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someplace-darker · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 7: Costumes | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.7k (this is going to be the longest one)

Warnings: 18+, PWP, costumes, a lot of sacrilegious activities, party sex, dirty talk, no protection (wrap it!!), afab reader but no pronouns are used, maybe slightly ooc matt but i am too tired to care. it's porn.

Summary: You may have fucked up on picking costumes for Marci's Halloween party, but at least Matt looks hot, right? Surely this won't awaken anything in the two of you- right?

A/N: Hi! I kind of got carried away on this one, there's probably a lot off repeat phrases, but this is the late day 7 and the late day 8 should be coming tonight as well but if not: oops. Also cmon, i had to make it a priest costime.

It had taken months of begging and persuasion to get Matt to even consider putting on a costume for halloween. Much less a shitty priest costume that you had snagged from the local party shop two hours before Marci’s ‘ghoul gala’ party. You’re not exactly sure how to tell Matt what the two of you will be going as, the ‘hot nun’ costume you snagged alongside his currently laying on his bed in front of you as you contemplate your options.

“It could be worse,” you nearly jump out of your skin, having forgotten you called Karen for help, her slightly glitched voice coming through your phone. Sighing, you pick up your costume and open the packaging, allowing the spandex like material to fall out onto the sheets. It’s incredibly skimpy considering what it’s portraying, the slats on the long skirt allowing most of your legs to be visible. Obviously the holy grail of it all, the wimple cutting off at your collarbones to allow a deep V to run down your chest “how can it be worse than this Karen, truly. I mean I could spit on a bible, maybe then-”

“You’re being dramatic, I’m sure Matt will love it.”

“I think Matt is going to have a stroke, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” you remark dryly, biting back a smile when Karen snorts.

“Well he just left the office not too long ago so he should be back to you soon. Marci’s thing starts in about an hour, Foggy left the office in costume so I assume he’s more than stressed about it.”

“Oh i’m sure he’ll feel better when we get there,” you laugh, perking up when you hear the door click shut “Matt just got home, i’ll see you at the party okay bye!”

“Was that Karen?” Matt asks, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yeah,” you speak, voice tight as you prepare yourself to tell him about your outfits for the night. He notices immediately, concerned questions spilling from his mouth and you brush off each one, assuring him that you’re okay before pulling from his hold to grab his packaged costume. You turn back and hold it out in front of him, biting your lip when he takes it from you, squeezing the plastic that encloses it.

You take the chance as soon as he begins to open it “don’t be mad at me.”

Matt pauses, sunglasses turning in your direction as he sighs “what did you do?”

The venue was huge, and you suddenly understood why Marci had spent so much money on it. You had been correct about Foggy’s mood improving when you showed up, the neutral look on his expression immediately turning into one of disbelief and elation. “You’re kidding me,” Foggy laughs, walking directly to Matt and pulling him into a hug before holding him back at arm's length. Matt is tense, you can feel it, but god he looks so hot, so you can’t find it in yourself to be that worried. The clerical collar accentuates the muscle and veins in his neck, adam's apple bobbing against it when he leans toward you to speak. “At least act like you’re not getting wet right now,” Matt grits his teeth, his volume dropped low enough so only you can hear.

Foggy’s voice is immediately drowned out by the rush in your ears, your thighs clenching together, his words like a warm rush through your body. “I need a drink,” you manage to spit out, weaving through the group of people until you reach the cooler on the opposite side of the room, pulling a seagram and beer from the ice. You’re half tempted to climb in, just to cool the heat that is spreading to the end of all your limbs and maybe clear your head. The beating in your chest is rapid, heavy thumps against your ribcage as your heart repeats what Matt has just said to you over and over and over, and you know for a fact that he’s listening to it purely because of the smirk that tugs his lips as you walk back towards him.

“Fancy a drink, father?” you raise your voice over the music to tease, handing the bottle to him with a bit more force than intended. Matt doesn’t know what he expects to feel when father slips off your tongue with such carnality, but lust was not one of them. It burns fiery in his chest, everything he has ever been taught about Thou shall not covet suddenly thrown out the window. You see the dilemma in the shape of the sharp inhale Matt takes, jaw clenching tight enough to see the muscle work.

“You’re treading an incredibly thin line here, sweetheart,” Matt warns, hand going to rest on the base of your spine before pulling you flush to his . The open slats of your costume causes your legs to brush against his pants, the thin fabric not doing much to cover the feeling of his hardening cock against you. “What?” you say breathlessly, hoping the thumping of music will drown out everything you say “you can’t handle it father? Do you need me to confess my sins?” The pressure against your lower back increases, as does your heart rate.

“You don’t need to confess them,” Matt replies smoothly “I’ll fuck them out of you.”

There’s a moment of pause as you gasp and Matt’s head cocks to the side as he focuses on something, bottle being taken from your hand and set on a table, his glasses nearly black mixed with the deep red lighting of the room. Grabbing your hand, Matt begins to tug you to the back of the venue, passing by people with ease and you hope that it’s too dark for anyone to notice the blind man leading you instead of the other way around. Soon enough he’s at a door, twisting the handle and pulling you inside. It’s a washroom, also bled in the same crimson lighting as if a bloodied glass was placed in front of your eyes. It’s giving you a headache.

“Is this what you wanted? Play a game of blasphemy until I get fed up and make you feel good?” Matt twists the lock on the door and presses you forward until your thighs hit the sink, his breathing ragged and heavy against your back. The costumes may have been unplanned, but your choice of words throughout the night had not. This is what you wanted, but the admittance of it out loud seemed more like desecration than anything else. You do it anyway.

“Yes,” you grin, pressing your ass back into him. Pride blooms in your chest when he chokes out a moan, fingers frantically pulling the skirt up to bunch at your waist before undoing his belt and pants. Matt’s hand rests between your shoulder blades, pressing you forward to bend over the porcelain. You blink back the haze in your eyes glancing up at the mirror inches in front of your face to peek at him, the sight of the clergy shirt ridden up his stomach revealing his hand fisting his cock enough to make you whimper.

You’ve never seen Matt so worked up before, and something tells you this is a subject you’ll have to tap into again at a later time. Right now though, he’s pressing into you slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your cunt taking him in. “Made for me,” he murmurs before pulling his hips back just the slightest to press in further than before.

The counter digs into your legs with each roll of his hips, moans tumbling past your lips with no hesitation, your body responding to him as it always does. “Oh my god Matty, so good,” you whimper, eyes pinching shut. No one has ever made you feel like Matt has, romantically or physically, the call of his body always pulling a response from yours. Your hands press against the tiled wall, eyes blinking open and glancing over him in the reflection catching the quick dip of his head, his hips stalling momentarily.

One hand leaves your hips to grip the white collar, pulling on it “gotta be quiet now sweetheart, someone’s waiting outside.The music is loud, but so are you.” Once it tugs free he reaches around to your face, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite,” he instructs, voice ragged and terse. You do, clenching your teeth onto it to keep from crying out when his hips slam back against you. Your pussy clenches around him as your knees shake, the only thing keeping you from falling being the sink you’re bent over.

“Being so good sweetheart, need you to cum for me,” Matt moans, almost unheard through the ringing in your ears and hum of the outside music. Small shocks spark along your skin when his fingers find your clit, rubbing and applying pressure that has you keening, face falling forward to press against the cool metal of the faucet. He knows exactly how to play you like an instrument, knows how to make you sing the prettiest songs for him like this, and he knows it. You can hear his cocky chuckle when your legs begin to shiver, hands slipping from their spot on the wall.

Everything seems to slow except for your breathing, your orgasm racking up your spine and down your legs, inching through to your fingers and it takes everything in you to keep the collar clenched in your mouth as to not alert whoever may be lurking by the door. Matt praises you through it, slowing his thrusts but not stopping, waiting until he knows you’re coherent enough to hear him to speak.

“That’s it, baby, you did so amazing,” Matt leans forward to press a kiss to the back of your head, pulling the white fabric from your lips “think you can do another?” He rolls his hips into yours once more, hitting something inside you that makes the red lighting of the room turn to white. You hum, pushing back against him.

“Yes, father.”

#kinktober #my writing #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #priest!Matt murdock #not really but kind of #it's a costume #i am so exhausted

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yarrystyleeza · 2 months

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Topic: gloomy catholic boys with guilt

(because it seems like I made a crossover post. John Ward is the main protagonist from the game "Faith: The Unholy Trinity", my new favorite fictional man, and Matt Murdock is the main character from the series "Daredevil" my catholic wife, he's not a priest on the show, but we all love priest!Matt here so...)

#yarrystyleeza #matt murdock #john ward #daredevil #faith the unholy trinity #matt murdock fanart #john ward fanart #i love them both so much #my wives #my husbands #my meow meows #must protecc at all costs #father john ward #priest!matt murdock

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wannabemurdock · 2 years

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priest!shy!VIRGINmatt x experienced young (like she have 18?19?) fem!reader? Like for his occupation Matt HAS NEVER BEEN SEXUALLY TOUCHED, so this beautiful girl has him in her bed and she blow him, hand him, ride him and chock him a little bit.

matt obviously doesn't know if he's in this reality or in heaven with an angel above him riding the shit out of him

by the end he's just dizzy and soooo overstimulated, so they both lie on her bed and talk, and matt just listens to her like a complete, total lovesick idiot.

-✨

Never felt like this, Matt Murdock

masterlist

Pairing: Priest!Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Summary: You ruin the perfect priest

Word count: 2041 words.

Contains: smut. unprotected sex. blasphemy.

Notes: i've been thinking about this ask for so long

Minors do not interact

Requests are closed

not my gif

You’ve been patient. Waiting for the moment where you could get your hands on the innocent priest from your parents church. Only having a month to plan this before you leave your parents to go back to New York. You want to fulfil his deepest, darkest dreams and fantasies. The ones that made him pray for forgiveness after imagining. You want to ruin him. Make him believe there is no god. That the only angel there could possibly be, is you.

All he knows is that you are everything he wants. Everything he needs. He's so desperate for you. He's been oblivious to the fact you are consciously torturing him. Pushing him to his breaking point.

Like only confessing when you know that he's on the other side of the booth's partition.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned." you voice serious, laced with your best imitation of guilt. If only he Matt... I mean Father Murdock, could see you. You smile betrays you. You're just planting the seeds you plan to sow later on. Torture him until he is the one that breaks.

"What do you seek forgiveness for." Nerves making his voice quiet and shaky. He immediately recognised it was you on the other side.

"Sex before marriage.... My mum found out and is making ask for forgiveness." You hear his breathing become shallow at your words. You imagine all the possible scenarios running through his mind. You in compromising positions. The noises you'd make. How you'd taste. How beautiful you would feel underneath him.

You weren't far off. His mind was too busy racing through all those very things, he forgot he was a priest doing gods work in a confessional booth at that very moment.

"Father?" it takes everything in you to not laugh at how easy it is to rile him up. You hear him cough and shuffle in his seat. His cock straining against his pant's just desperate for your touch.

"Um.. yes. You don't seem very remorseful of the... s-situation." He's ready to kick himself. He could've just given the forgiveness, but he's dragging the encounter out just to hear the slightest of details.

"Well, I'm not remorseful? Why would I?" You think hard about your words. What could possibly drive him crazy. "I mean, it can't really hurt to feel good. Ban sex, might as well ban masturbation too. Right? You can't frown upon one but not the other. Anyway, what's the point in denying pleasure."

That's done it.

He rushes through the rest of the confession before excusing himself to the office at the back of the church.

What about the time you game him a little show while he helped you family set up for the neighbourhood barbeque.

Father Murdock had just arrived to your house, in summer clothes compared to the pristine suits, welcomed with open arms and a solid handshake by your mum before being sent out to the backyard to help your dad start up the grill and other snacks. Your mum had busied herself within the kitchen by finishing up the salads and bakes.

He was disappointed that he couldn't hear you. As time went on and you made things much harder for him, he somehow looked forward to seeing you. Not look forward. More desperate. Desperate to hear your groans when you stretched. For your soft sighs and giggles you saved only for him when he said something he knew wasn't that funny. Desperate to feel your soft touch on the back of hands when leading him somewhere. The way you touch his thigh when you'd giggle. He always wished he could hear and feel more of you.

He has to shake himself of his thoughts before someone notices him holding the same bowl of chips for far too long or before he gets himself a position he would not be able to explain. Well, that before he notices you slide up next to him. Side on to him, shoulder pressed against his. The skin of your shoulder pressed against his bare arms. The illusion of you wearing something skimpy and revealing drives him wild. You turn to face him, tits brushing against his arm as he realises you in nothing more than a bikini top. He quickly excuses himself to the bathroom. The feeling of you forever burnt into his body.

In your wise words, "what's the point in denying pleasure?"

All those moments lead up to now. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. He knew he shouldn't have accepted your invitation. But he couldn't say no. He was at his wits end. He's maintained a life of celibacy. Saving himself for marriage in the name of god. But you had made him desperate. No amount of praying could stop the way he feels about you.

Your parents are out of town. You're alone in a big house in a town you've lived your whole life but you couldn't help but "admit" to Father Murdock that you're scared to be alone. Asking him to stay the night in the guest room so you had some piece of mind.

He fell for the puppy dog eyes. The tremble in your voice. How desperate you looked for one, rather than him.

He knew he should've said no.

But if he did, he wouldn't be standing there on your front porch, pizza in hand, waiting for you to answer the door. His cock already pressing against the zipper of his slacks at the thought of you in one of your tiny outfits.

You certainly didn't disappoint. You swing open the door clad in nothing more than a tiny pair of shorts and a see through singlet. You pull him in for a hug, repeating thank you's and how grateful you are that he's here. He can barely hear you over the sound of his blood pulsating in his ears.

Leading him to the kitchen with a little extra pep in your step, anticipation coursing through you. Taking the pizza from his hands and placing it on the bench, you slide past him. Brushing your ass against the hard outline in his pants, you hear a quiet groan escape his throat. Spinning around to look at him with wide eyes.

"Father Murdock!" You feign shock in your voice as a blush spreads across his face and he starts mumbling apologies. Pressing the front of your body against his, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

"Let me make you feel good, baby boy." Pulling away to look at his face for any hesitation, he nods before grabbing your hand. You lead him upstairs to your bedroom. Both hearts racing for reasons so different, they're almost the same.

You pull him into your bedroom before slamming the door and pushing him against it. You pull away his sunglasses, kissing him with a fire you've never felt before as you threw them on the table next to your door. The top of your thigh between his legs, pressing against his confined cock as needy moans leave him. Lips melding together in desperation. Your hands grip the collar of his shirt, crumping the pristine material as you pull him impossibly closer.

"Do you want this?" Struggling to get the words out between kisses.

"Yeah, yeah please. I need you." His words has you dragging him over to your bed before pushing him to lay down. You undo his pants, pulling them and his underwear down enough to let his cock spring free before falling to your knees between his parted legs. The tip, angry and weeping as you admire him. Absolutely stunning as he lays there so ready for you.

How did a man this hung, deny the world of a dick this gorgeous in the name of god.

You spit into your palm before tentatively wrapping your hand around him, ready for him to say stop at any moment. Instead he begs.

"Please. Please touch me. Use me. Do whatever you want. I want you." His words has you dripping in anticipation. You pump him a few time before you take him in your mouth as deep as you can, saliva dripping and pooling around his base. Moans fall freely from his lips as you begin to move. Never knowing anything could feel this good, he's already on the edge.

"Gonna come already, baby boy?" You pull away, still slowly pumping him with your hand. He knows he should be embarrassed from the way you're mocking him but all he can muster is a simple nod as he does his best to not bust immediately.

"You want come like this? Or do you want me to fuck you?" Your words stun him. Never having this opportunity before, he doesn't want to waste it.

"Fuck me. P-please fuck me." The tremble in his voice send a pang of pleasure down your spine before it settle in your lower stomach. Getting up from your place you the ground, you strip quickly before straddling his hips, bare pussy flush against his cock. You grind yourself back and forth slowly. His tip bumping your clit so beautifully, its hard to get yourself to stop.

Matt groans as you lift up, a soft hiss at the loss of contact before you wrap your hand around him and line him up with your entrance. You lower yourself down slowly, his hands flying to your hips. Knees shaking lightly as his tip hits the part of you that makes you see stars. The part no one else has managed to touch.

"Fuck..." You huff, "You feel so fucking good." His hands grip your hips painfully tight, not able to say a word in fear of losing the remaining bit of composure he has left. You lift yourself back onto you knees, and bounce back down, developing a steady rhythm while your nails mark his chest. You're so close, concentrating on your own high you twist and grind your hips, the little tuft of hair at his base creates beautiful friction on you clit. You feel the heat begin to engulf your body when-

"Fuck I'm coming!" His words startle you but then an idea forms.

"I didn't come." Shock covers his face as his softening dick slips out of you. His cum starting to slowly drip out of you.

"I'm- I - We-" You cut him off before he can say much more.

"Lemme ride your face." Your words shock him, leaving him blubbering more than before.

"Let me explain again. I'm going to sit on your face, you're going to use your mouth and tongue and make me come. Otherwise it wouldn't be fair, Father Murdock." he nods his head quickly, not able to form words.

You climb up his body, giving him a solid eye full of your pussy. His eyes practically the shape of hearts before you lower yourself against his mouth. He clumsily licks and sucks at your pussy before figuring out what makes you react best. He brings his fingers up to your entrance, inserting them and moving them slowly as he sucks on your clit.

"Curl your finger- OH fuck right there." He builds a steady rhythm as you rocks and grind against his face. Drunk on the taste of you, he doesn't feel himself harden again. All sense overwhelmed by you, he concentrates the best he can on making you come.

Your moans get louder, your hips lose rhythm. The burning heat swallows you whole this time as you fall headfirst into your orgasm. Thigh shaking against his head as you gush around his fingers. You feel him moan against you as you ride out your high before climbing off of him. You lay down and rest your head on his chest, waiting for your legs to stop shaking.

Shocked at what just happened. Feeling you come against his face sent him into a whole new level of euphoria. A mix of his and your cum, spread across the lower half of his face. His cum covers his stomach. He lies there, fucked out and completely spent. Eyes filled with lust and euphoria as his breathing begins to steady out.

"You didn't think we were stopping there? Did you?"

#wannabemurdock’s asks #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel smut #marvel imagine #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Matt Murdock smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil x reader smut #daredevil #daredevil smut #✨ anon #priest!matt murdock #priest!matt murdock x reader #priest!matt murdock x reader smut #priest!matt murdock smut

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frankcastlescumslut · 2 years

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Show Me How You Sin

pairing: Priest!Matt x AFAB!Virgin!Reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! umm haha everything? blasphemy, heavy desecration of religion, virgin reader, oral (f receiving), guided masturbation, soft!dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, reader is in 20’s

synopsis: Father Matthew leads you through your confession and first orgasm

A/N: haha hey! don’t read this is sacrilegious themes offend you!

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/FEEDBACK/LIKES ARE VERY MUCH WELCOMED HEHE

DO NOT REPOST, STEAL, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION. I’LL SMITE YOU.

he has to know how good he looks, right?

honey, he’s blind.

your mother gives you a quick side eye partnered with a smirk as you mumble to each other from the pew, relishing in the sight in front of you.

black garments cling to Father Murdock’s body in just the right way as he preaches about something you’ve probably heard many times before. your focus is purely on the way his hands rest against the wooden pulpit, veins visible under the dim light, and you can’t help the way your thoughts wander.

his fingers tap into the wood as he emphasizes some point, …your Heavenly Father will also forgive you, practically teasing you to imagine the way they would feel against the inside of your thigh, pressing into the soft flesh as your dress rides up with his touch.

the vasculature of his hands becomes more prominent as he grips onto the pulpit, and you have to swallow away the question of what his hands would look like wrapped around your throat while your lips release sweet moans.

your cheeks flush as you watch the way his tongue darts from the corner of his mouth and wets his lip, the voice catching in your throat as you swear you saw him smirk. you could’ve sworn he caught you; the way you crossed your legs and clenched your thighs together to relieve some of the ache from your core, the way your bottom lip was lodged between your teeth to stifle any moan that threatened to slip, the way your own fingers grabbed onto your sides as you crossed your arms around your body to hold yourself together.

don’t be ridiculous, he’s blind.

a sea of bodies rises from the pews, indicating the end of service. you deflate like a balloon, comfortable disappearing into the crowd and looking forward to relieving your… stress… in the comfort of your own bedroom.

you know it’s wrong, he’s a priest! I have hid thy promise in my heart, that I might not sin against thee. he’s MY priest… but it feels so good to reach that sweet spot when you rub your clothed cunt against the pillow in just the right way, unknowing of what happens after the buildup, wishing it was some part of the man who lead your prayers to help you discover what comes next.

your cheeks burn from embarrassment as you stand, only to find remnants of your arousal and sweat on the pew below.

“Hi.” The voice catches you off guard, causing you to trip over the aisle carpet.

“Careful, there.” His smile is charming as two large hands catch your falling body, the touch lingering on your waist for a second too long.

“S-sorry, Father.” It’s barely a whisper, but he catches your apology, clearly noting the way your heartbeat thunders in your chest.

He can tell you’re blushing by the way your cheeks and ears grow warmer, your skin already slightly damp from the debauchery he had very much noticed before.

His ear turns towards your parents ever so slightly, noticing the quiet laugh your mother is trying to hush- she must be embarrassed or- nervous?

“No need to apologize. I just wanted to see how you all were doing? It’s rare I get a moment to talk to everyone around here!” His smile is radiant as he addresses your family, your breath faltering as he moves his hand to the small of your back.

“Good! We’re all great! Home from college from now,” your mother winks at you, “just enjoying all the ways the Lord has been blessing us!” She’s overly excited as she relishes in the priest’s attention.

“Amen to that.”

Electricity flows from Father Matthew’s fingertips as he lightly grazes the seam of your dress. Your vision seems to blur at the foreign touch, only to be spewed on by the throbbing ache from between your thighs. The conversation is incoherent, your only train of thought telling your body to relax. breathe in, breathe out.

“I’m glad to hear it, it was nice speaking with you!�� You take his words as your cue to leave but are halted as your parents take a few steps away.

“Actually,” the way he says your name nearly stops your heart entirely. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in confession?” His lip is upturned in a seasoned smile, one you had recognized before.

“I- um,”

“There’s no pressure, of course. I could just always use the extra practice. Not many people come around anymore, if you can believe that!” You swear you could see the crinkles form around his eye through the red glasses, and you sigh as his hand finally leaves your back.

“Sure. I’m, uh, definitely guilty of that.” As quickly as you relaxed at the absence of his touch, another part of you craved it.

He senses your hesitation, his attuned ears catching the way you crane your neck to scout your parents, only to hide a smile as he can hear your hands flap, shooing away your parents.

“You first,” he motions towards the confessional, vacant gaze trained towards your figure, disappearing into the confines of secrecy.

The wooden bench chills the backside of your thighs as you sit. The silhouette of your priest altered through the grated partition causes your heartbeat to quicken, and you’re suddenly on trial for your sins.

“Bless me, Father Murdock, for I have sinned…” He catches the shakiness in your voice, and the mention of his name causes him to shift his legs in his private section.

“It’s been…” You have to think of how long you had been away at college to remember the last time you’d repeated the phrase. “Four months since my last confession.”

“I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Thank you, Father Murdock-”

“Matthew. You can call me Matthew, if you’d like.” Your cheeks flush at the invitation and he notices, of course he does. Father Matthew… If only he knew how many times that name left your lips in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I, um… I have been struggling lately, Father Matthew.” The weighted confession leaves your mouth causing the crotch of his pants to grow tighter in unholy temptation.

“I have these feelings,” you clear your throat.

“Feelings?”

“Yes. Feelings that sometimes, well,” You’re unsure of how much you’re willing to tell. Granted, the guilt had been eating you alive, but a part of you enjoyed it- enjoyed it the way you enjoyed the feel of him pressing into your back.

“Sometimes they actually turn physical and…” he can tell you’re nervous by the way your cheeks warm and you cross your legs, clenching your thighs together in the process.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or nervous, God honors your honesty, and so do I.” His voice is calm, almost too calm, and eases you into your repentance.

“When do these feelings typically happen?“ he already knew the answer; it was as if he was baiting you, perhaps he was.

He could sense the way you purposefully rubbed your clothed core against the pews while the congregation stood- the hymns hiding the breathy moans that left your lips when you barely rocked forward. He felt the way your lips threatened to wrap around his finger when he placed the bread on your tongue, his attuned ears catching the shakiness of your prayer. He could smell your arousal through the wooden partition as you contemplated your answer.

“They happen often, Father. And I don’t understand them. I’m ashamed, I think.”

“Shame is a heavy burden, but the burden Christ gives us is-“

“Light.” you speak at the same time.

“Exactly. Good girl” Matt catches the breath that becomes lodged in your throat, your pulse beating rapidly as you brush the hair from your face, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. He wants nothing more than to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, helping you to create pretty sounds.

“Tell me, what makes you ashamed of these feelings?” You’re caught off guard at his sultry tone.

“They happen when I do unholy things” Your confession falls on sensitive ears.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Unholy things like…” You don’t even realize your eyes are closed as your fingers caress your thighs, your lower lip hiding a moan as your fingertips brush the hem of your cotton panties. What are you doing?

“Like what you’re doing right now?” Matt noticed the way your concentration had adjusted, and he could sense the pad of your fingertips rub against the thicker seam- your breath falters and your body tenses as you’re caught. His cock throbs in the confinement of his pants.

“None of us are without sin. But I am interested in something.” His voice is raspy.

“Why don’t you show me how you sin?” you feel faint but gasp audibly at his proposal, your core throbbing at the thought.

“Father… I don’t… I”

“Your heavenly father has already forgiven you. May I?” He leans his head closer to the partition, eager to sense your response. You whimper at the thought of pleasuring yourself, fully confessing and at the mercy of the priest, and your fingers brush against your warm cunt, causing you to whisper a moan as you graze the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, so obedient.” he clears his throat. “Do that again for me.”

The pad of your fingertips press into your clit and your eyes flutter shut.

“Good girl,” He notes the way you moan at the praise. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“I feel, I feel dirty.” You do. You really, really do. But you also feel really, really good.

“Dirty is an interesting word to use… tell me where your hands are.”

“They’re on my thighs, Father.” He waits for a moment as he listens for the sound of your soft skin being kneaded, but he finds something else entirely.

“Angel, lying defeats the purpose of confession. Where are your hands?” It’s condescending and almost threatening, and you realize where you’re sitting and who you’re talking to.

It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. But neither of you are willing to stop.

“They’re on my… my…”

“Your pussy?” He growls as he finally palms his hard length while imagining your innocent body responding to his games.

“Yes.” You’re fully clothed but feel naked- exposed.

“Good girl. There’s no shame in pleasure. After all, God created it. Are your thighs spread open?” He knew the answer. He could practically taste the way you coated the booth.

“Yes.”

“I want to ask you something, is that alright?“

“Yes.”

“Have you ever tasted yourself before?” Your stomach lurches at the thought.

“No.”

“Such a shame.” You swear you hear him tsk in disapproval. “Would you like to?”

“Y-yes.”

The curtain of your booth is pulled away quickly, equally catching you off guard. You hadn’t even heard him remove himself from his side, and you certainly weren’t expecting to see the flushed face of your priest as your legs were spread wide open for anyone to see. Truthfully, though, you didn’t care if anyone saw. You were unable to form any other thought, fully surrendering to the desires of your flesh, whatever that meant.

It’s silent for a moment as he stands in front of you, his head turning to perceive your already wrecked state. Heavy breaths fill the small space as anticipation grows. Your back sinks against the hardwood, causing your thighs to spread even further, your clothed pussy peeking out from under your dress in silent invitation. Matt accepts gladly, wishing he could watch the way your eyes grew in size as he lowered himself in front of you.

His hands, the ones you had fantasized about so many times before, shakily greet your calves, the fingers gently teasing against the skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He smirks at the way you moan at the minimal touch, only then wondering how much you had been denying yourself.

“Angel,” his lips press into the inside of your knee. “Have you sinned like this before? With another person?”

You shake your head in response, and Matt can tell the answer by the way your arousal seeps from your panties, but you quickly correct yourself.

“N-no Father Matthew.”

“Such a good girl.” He places another kiss on the opposite knee.

“Oh, Christ!” You exhale as his hands travel further towards your core, his fingers dancing against your thighs, kisses littering wherever he touches. He smiles at your reactions.

Teeth lightly nip at the delicate flesh, and he inhales deeply as his nose practically nudges against where you crave him the most. He sighs into you, his warm breath against your sobbing pussy causing you to moan.

“So responsive,” his thumb traces the inside seam of your white cotton underwear, threatening to please you. “May I?” He faces you, desperately trying to find your eyes.

“Yes.” You whisper, giving permission to something you’re not even sure he’s asking.

The heel of your foot, the hardness of a pew, the softness of a pillow, the texture of a stuffed animal was nothing compared to the way Matt’s thumb caressed your throbbing clit through your panties. You jolted, nearly hitting your head, at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Oh!” His fingers grabbed onto the plump flesh of your thighs just as they held onto the pew, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your bundle of nerves.

“F-father,” You call for him, failing to catch the amusement plastered on his face.

“Hm? How does this feel, sweetheart? You can’t form words to express how you were feeling.

“Good. S-so good. Thank you.” He moans at your gratitude, his member throbbing consequently. His fingers hook into the elastic, patience leaving his body as he desperately needs to taste you.

“Angel, let me make you feel good.” He pleads with a kiss to your panty-cladded cunt. An open mouth moan against your core causes you to reach for him as he denies himself the pleasure of lapping up your taste. “Please, will you let me make you feel good?”

You aren’t sure how it can feel much better than this, but you oblige with ease.

“Please, Father Matthew. Please make me feel good.”

Your underwear fall to your ankles with haste, the air against your wet pussy causing you to shiver. Matt shivers as your arousal floods the tiny space, taunting him to devour you.

“Sweetheart, you tell me if you’d like me to stop, okay?” His fingers find your hand and wrap around your wrist as you give your silent consent.

His warm breath greets you first as you sharply inhale, this will be fun, and he teases you with the flat of his tongue pressing against the entirety of your pussy.

“H-help.” Had he heard you correctly?

“Help? Is everything okay? Would you like me to stop?” His brows furrowed in concern and he loosened his grip.

“No!” You practically shout, the echo hurting his ear slightly. “No! Please. I just… I’ve never felt this and I…” You’re embarrassed to admit you aren’t sure how to feel.

“Relax, angel. I promise I’m going to take care of you, ” He places a small kiss on your thighs. “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore,” he quotes scripture before placing his lips to your clit. You relax into the feeling, unsure of whether it was the familiarity of the words or the satiation of your flesh.

The tip of his tongue runs through your wet folds, sucking lightly to taste every drop, before flicking and circling against your swollen clit. Your moans cause his cock to throb against his thigh as he relishes in your sweetness.

“Fuck,” The profanities surprise you as they’re murmured from below. “Taste so fuckin’ delicious, sweetheart.” Your cheeks flush at the compliment.

“So fuckin’ sweet, just like an angel. My little angel,” His lips wrap around your sensitive bundle of nerves and he sucks lightly, the sound of spit audible to anyone who could pass by. He’s surprised by the way you respond and throw your hands against his head before quickly pulling back in regret.

“It’s okay,” he coos from below. “You can touch me.” You burn with temptation at his invitation and sink back into the wooden frame at an awkward angle, your fingers gently caressing the side of his head.

“Oh, Father.” You attempt to stifle your moan by catching part of your dress in your mouth, but he stops you before it passes your lips.

“Don’t be shy, kitten.” An outreached hand reaches to cup your face, his heart softening at the way you nuzzle into his touch. “There’s nothing wrong with seeking pleasure. Do you need me to help you?” you nod your head against his palm and he grabs your thighs, pulling you closer against him

“There you go, such a good girl. Just like that.” Your head falls back as he laps up your arousal from your leaking hole and places kitten licks against your clit, your moans falling freely.

“God,” you whimper, “that feels so good. I-I like that.”

He continues his ministrations, applying a steady pressure to your sensitive clit as your fingers grip into his hair and your hips lightly rut into him. He growls against your movements, and a wet spot grows visible against his trousers.

“That's it princess,” He moans into you. “Show me what you like. Show me how you like it.” you adjust your hips and lightly grind against his tongue. His grip onto you tightens, surely leaving bruises in return, as he encourages you to grow confident in your motions.

“Please please please” unsure of what you’re asking for as your thrusts grow quicker and more erratic. Matt mumbles a prayer and hums against your clit, causing you to force his face to press into you even more.

“Do that again, please.” you beg for more of the new sensations, his hums vibrating against your most sensitive area. He obliges with haste, silently praying and eager for a taste of your release.

An unfamiliar sensation bubbles within as your priest devours your pleasure. If the idea of the holiest man you knew moaning against your virgin cunt wasn’t enough to bring you to an orgasm, the sounds of your slick and his drool mixing and coating your clit was enough to do so.

“Father, what’s happening?” Your eyes attempt to open, but your lashes flutter at the pleasure. Your chest heaves as Matt brings you to the edge of your first orgasm.

“Just as the Father has washed you from iniquity, let this feeling wash over you, angel.” You’re sure you’ve reached Heaven. Your entire body tenses as you cling onto Matt, holding him against your clit as your orgasm washes over you in waves.

“Oh fuck! Oh Christ!” The muscles in your thighs tremble as they involuntarily close around the priest’s head; he moans as the sweetness of your taste and smell floods his senses. Your body shakes with pleasure and your abs contract with each wash of euphoria.

Your arousal drips from you like honey from a honeycomb, and Matt collects it with the tip of his tongue and spreads it over your clit before sucking gently, causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

“Ouch!” You flinch, “It hurts, Father.”

“If we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.” He recites the verse into your sopping cunt with a last lick, savoring your first sin. You’re surprised as he reaches for your face and brings you forward, your lips pressing into one another with a gentle kiss.

You moan into him, embarrassed that you’re enjoying the simple intimacy and the taste of you. He returns the pleasantry, his tongue tracing your swollen bottom lip before breathing into you a final time; his heart mirrors you at the slight ache.

His lips trail kisses from your face to your neck, stopping at your core while his fingers dip between your folds for good measure, before disappearing behind his lips. He continues his trail of kisses down the length of your legs before pulling your panties in their proper position.

Your legs groan as you finally stand at your full height and marvel at the sight below you. The priest's robes had been abandoned long ago, and he looked oddly human as he knelt below you. Your hand reaches towards him, reaching to hold his face, and he leans into your tender touch. He places an intimate kiss on your palm before standing, awkwardly adjusting the erection in his pants.

“I, um, I can-” He smiles at your offer.

“No, you don’t have to. It’s okay, angel. You did enough today.” You blush at his words, wishing you could run from the impending separation.

You’re surprised as he places a kiss to your forehead before running his hands against your figure, straightening the hem of your dress with precision and a kind smile, the sheen of your arousal still evident on his lip. You return the favor by gingerly adjusting the red tinted glasses and brushing a piece of his hair from his forehead. Your thumb rubs against his lips before disappearing into your mouth.

“Will I see you next Sunday?” He breaks the tender moment.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl.”

#priest!matt murdock smut #priest!matt murdock #priest!matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #priest!matt murdock x virgin reader #priest!matt murdock x AFAB reader #matt murdock x virgin reader #matt murdock fanfic

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munsonownsmyass · 1 year

Text

Priest!Matt Murdock x reader

Author’s note: what was supposedly a innocent picture shared by @mindidjarin in our TFC server caused a few of us to go feral for Father Matthew. And here's my contribution 😅

Oh, and just because I really needed Matt with the glasses, let's pretend he's almost blind 😆

And I have to say religion is not my forte, so if I've made a mistake, I'm sorry. I tried to do some research 🙈

Warnings: Oh Lord, where to begin? Sacrilege, blasphemous behavior, probably incorrect use of prayers/confessions, taking some liberties with the size of a confession booth, biblical references, corruption, Father Matthew is a virgin (because i said so!), SMUT! 18+. Implied masturbation, Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, choking, cream pie, body worship, Catholic guilt. Let's just say I'm gonna burn in hell for this.

Words: 4K. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop.

”Church? Really?”

You can’t hide your disgust and instantly you see your roommate's smile fade. You don’t mean to offend her, not really, religion has just never been your thing. Never even been to church, you can’t really imagine going now.

“Come on. It’s always so nice to go during the holidays.” Laura tries, taking your hands in hers. “Please. For me? You only have to go once if you don’t like it, promise.”

Laura gives you a pleading smile and you feel yourself give in. She’s the kindest person ever, so how can you even say no to her? And maybe it won’t be so bad.

“But… Am I even allowed to go?” you ask with a shrug of your shoulders, causing Laura to laugh. She just wraps her arms around you, before giving your forehead a kiss.

“Of course, silly. What do you think will happen? You’d burst into flames?” she giggles before walking towards the kitchen to get your dinner started. Little does she know that is exactly what you’re thinking.

You weren’t exactly a complete sinner, but you weren’t a wallflower either. Never been afraid to try things, you’re quite sure you’ve done things Laura haven’t even heard off. She’s probably spray you with holy water if she knew. It’s quite ironic you ended up with a good modest catholic girl as your roommate, when you live in Hell’s Kitchen of all places.

The following Sunday you find yourself in front of Clinton Church with an overly excited Laura at your side. Her family would go to church religiously every Sunday and she never missed one. After moving to Hell’s Kitchen, she had quickly found a new church and according to her, the priest here were amazing and really inspiring, whatever that means.

Laura drags you all the way up to the front. You’re about to protest, hoping you could have hidden in a corner, when you hear people fall silent. Looking up at the alter, you see the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Who’s that?” you whisper, earning an annoyed look from Laura. “That’s the priest. Now shush.”

And you do. Not because she told you too, but because you wouldn’t even be able to form words if you tried. You’re instantly drawn to him. His dimples when he smiles, his smooth voice as he talks passionately throughout the sermon, his beautiful eyes as they look over his congregation.

After the service, Laura drags you up to the priest, wanting to introduce you. “Father Matthew, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She says softly, causing him to turn around. He’s even more handsome up close and you feel your mouth go dry. Laura gives him your name and when he repeats it, you feel yourself blush.

“Welcome. It’s good to have you with us.” He says with a bright smile, taking your hands in his. “If there’s ever anything, my office is always open.”

Oh, if only he knew what you were thinking right now. You nod politely, thanking him. Another person demands his presence, so he bids you farewell with another killer smile, making your knees weak. Unable to tear your eyes away, you eye him as he talks to the other attendants. Charming, handsome and passionate. You start to see the appeal of going to church.

A few days later you find Laura knee-deep in flour when you come home from work, the kitchen looking like a mess.

“What’s going on?” You ask with a grin, trying to help lessen the damage. With a heavy sigh, she sits down on a stool, pulling some dough out from her hair.

“There’s a bake sale at the church. I want to help.” She huffs out, pouting like a child. You can’t help but laugh softly, helping her with another lump of dough.

“Let me bake it for you.” You pat her shoulder, as you return to the counter and start cleaning up some of the mess she’s made. An idea pops into your head. “Maybe I should come to the bake sale. Help you out.”

At that she stops and look at you, confusion written all over her face. “You? Wanna help? But you don’t even believe in God.”

“No, but I believe in Father Matthew’s ass.” You grin, but stopping as soon as you see the horrified expression on Laura’s face. “What?”

“You really shouldn’t talk about a priest like that.” She counters, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t think a man as devout as him would appreciate it.”

“Oh, come on!” You grin, leaning against the counter as you face her, arms crossed over your chest. “You make it sound like it’s a sin or something. I’m just saying he’s hot.”

Laura avoids your gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the little piece of dough she pulled from her hair. She’s clearly uncomfortable, trying to find the right words. “But… It kinda is forbidden. I mean, he’s a priest. A catholic priest. They have to abstain from such things.”

Putting down the spoon in your hand, you look at her confused, replaying her words in your mind. “So… You’re telling me Father Matthew is a virgin?!”

“Not that it’s any of our business to discuss, but…” she pauses, her cheeks a bright pink, clearly not used to conversations like this. “It’s most likely, yes.”

And with that she walks away, done with the conversation. Shaking your head in disbelief, you save the batter before pouring it into a pan. You couldn’t wrap your head around a guy like him being a virgin. So charismatic and kind, there was no way.

The next day at the bake sale, Father Matthew comes over to thank you for the help. You generously offer to help whenever he needs it, which is how you found yourself helping out at the church several times a week. Whatever it took to get closer to Father Matthew.

He was like this forbidden fruit, a beacon calling you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself smiling in his company, craving his attention. And you dont think the affection is one sided. Father Matthew smiles more in your presence, always finding reasons to be near you.

Small fleeting touches would send your heart soaring. You wondered if he knew the effect he had on you, how much you longed for him.

Especially late at night, laying alone in your bed, you found your thoughts invaded by him. How his perfect body would feel against yours. How those lips would feel, trailing kisses over every inch of your skin. His voice whispering sweet praises in your ears.

It really wasn’t fair. A pious and devout man with an ass and lips made for sin, and you couldn’t touch him. You were starting to think that if there really was a God, he certainly was a cruel one.

It’s a quiet day at the church, not really anything to do. But still you stayed, talking to Matthew about… anything really. Today he talked about how his life sometimes had been lonely before he found his calling. The words from Laura still ringing in your head, you find your courage to finally ask the question that’s been burning to come out.

“Have you never been curious?” Your ask, your fingers grazing the rows of benches as you make your way over to Matthew. Looking to you briefly, he just offers a smile as he keeps putting the bibles in place.

“It's my job to be curious, but for the sake of argument. Curious about what?”

“What I mean is…” You step forward, further closing the distance between you and Father Murdock. “Have you ever been tempted?”

He swallows hard and you hear his breathing get heavier. Licking his lips, he puts down the bible and turn to you. “I have.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you walk closer still, your body almost touching his. “And you never wanted to give in to temptation?”

“Tha-that would be a sin.” He breathes out, clearly affected by you. “The, uhm… The devil often sends temptations in the most…” he pauses, breathing strained as his hand comes to rest on the bench in front of him, knuckles almost turning white as he clenches around the wood. “Alluring forms. All to test our faith.”

“And how strong are you in your faith, Father?” you breathe out, using every single ounce of willpower not to kiss him. Never one to believe, you feel yourself praying for strength to resist him.

“Not-” he swallows, turning his head to you, his face a mere inch from yours. “Not as strong as I want to be.”

The air between you is thick. You want to lean in, claim his lips with your own. Your whole body is screaming for him. It’s so forbidden, but you don’t care. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted a man before. Needing him like you're drawing and he is air.

Unable to hold back any longer, you lean forward and gently press your lips to his in a sweet, brief kiss. Petrified, he stands there wide eyed, mouth slightly ajar.

The door to the church opens, causing Father Matthew to break away from you. His face flustered, bottom lip quivering as he tries to compose himself. He looks to the man who entered the church, swallowing hard, as he takes one of the bibles, using it to cover his erection.

“I-I must go.” He stutters, fixing his glasses and smoothes down his hair, trying to look unphased when in fact his insides are in turmoil, his soul on fire from your kiss. He gives you a soft smile, his free hand squeezing your arm, before he walks down the aisle.

You sit down in the confession booth, waiting. It’s not long before the hatch slides away, the unmistakable voice of Matt Murdock greeting you.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first time confessing.”

His breathing changes. He knows it’s you. He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat before he speaks. “What do you have to atone for, my child?”

“I have had unpure thoughts of a man I shouldn’t lust after. A man of the church. I feel myself drawn to him.” You confess, looking to the little window between you and Matthew. “I… I have touched myself thinking about him.”

“Oh God.” He breathes out, barely above a whisper.

“I have thought about all the ways I could please him. How he would feel inside me.”

A soft whimper fills the air. You can hear him squirming beside you, finding it hard to sit still. “I wonder if he thinks of me too. If he has laid there in the darkness, hard at the thought of me.”

“Please… Don’t…” is all he manages to say, hearing the struggle in his voice. “I can’t…”

In that moment you give hell to everything, leaving the booth and find yourself opening the door to his side. Father Matthew looks up, breathing coming out hard, as he tries to control himself. His cock is straining against the zipper, begging to be released. He tries to hide it, ashamed of how little self-control he has around you.

You walk in, not even bothering to close the door behind you before you straddle his lap, your core rubbing against his hard length. He whimpers at the contact, muttering prayers under his breath.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go.” You say, the pleading clear. You want him with every fiber of your being, already soaked through your panties. A wicked part of you wants to ruin him, wants to know you were the one taking his innocence, right here before the eyes of God.

“You know I can’t.” He looks up, eyes glazed over with lust. He swallows hard, his hand cupping your cheek. He prays that you have the strength to leave, because his is faltering. Leaning in closer, your breath ghost over his lips, causing him to shiver.

“Please don’t. I… I’m not strong enough to resist you.” He stutters, not breaking away. You claim his lips in a soft, almost timid kiss. Moans fill the air as he feels your soft lips against his. Deepening the kiss, you grind against him, feeling how hard he is under you.

Your hands move down his chest, cupping his bulge, eliciting sweet whimpers from Father Matthew. You push away, falling to your knees, the cold stones hard against your skin. You unzip his pants, hand wrapping around his weeping cock, so desperate for attention. Father Matthew puts his hand over yours, causing you to stop.

“No, we can’t… ” He tries to protest, yet his hips jerk up into your hand, whimpering at the friction. At that you just smile softly, taking him into your mouth down to the base, getting a loud moan from him. Father Matthew throws his head back, eyes open, thinking about the lifeless figure hanging over the alter, judging him.

“God forgive me.” He whimpers, his fingers gripping onto the bench beneath him. You bob your head, moaning as his tip hit the back of your throat. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers through Farther Matthew, making him squirm under you, before he stops you by pushing your head away.

He falls to his knees, facing you. His eyes almost find yours, the intensity of the moment making his heart swell with something he wishes were weaker, so he could ignore it. But he can’t. His hands move to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, uncovering your smooth soft skin that breaks out in goosebumps under his timid touch.

You know it's the first time he's ever touched another human so intimately, so you let his fingers explore your skin, his trembling hands cupping your breasts.

Your heart is beating fast, the sound almost deafening as your lips come together again. You make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, fingers running hungrily over his chest. You hold him tight as you press kisses down his jaw to his throat.

Father Matthews skin burns under your touch, eyes half lidded, heavy with want as his eyes search for you. With a hand flat on his chest, you turn, pushing him back until he’s laying on the floor, his upper body outside the booth. Anyone could walk in and find you, but none of you care. Straddling him, your soaked panties rub over his exposed cock, making him groan under you. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you grind on him.

Pulling your panties to the side, you take a hold of his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto his hard length. Father Matthew holds his breath as you take him to the base, his mind going blank at how good you feel. “God forgive me.” He chants, over and over, as you fuck yourself on his cock. His whimpers fill the air, the sound echoing throughout the church.

His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts up into you, unable to hold back. It’s so good, so forbidden. It only takes a few more seconds before Father Matthew comes with a loud groan.

“Oh God!” he moans, eyes closed as he pumps into you one last time before coming to a halt. For a moment, all you hear in the empty church, is your heavy breathing filling the air. After catching his breath, he sits up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He pushes you off him gently, averting your gaze as he quickly fixing his clothes. Guilt is painted all over his features, his face red with embarrassment as he runs towards his office, leaving you alone on the floor.

A week later, you find yourself outside his office. You want to say your sorry, to seek his forgiveness for being weak. You wanted it, but it wasn’t until you saw the torment on his face that you realized what you had done.

You had taking his virginity, without even thinking about the consequences. You had to make amends. Taking a deep breath, you knock on his door and wait.

“Come in.”

Peaking in, you see him sitting at his desk, a stack of paper before him. His fingers glide over the pages, reading another line, before looking in your direction.

“What can I do for you?”

“I… I wanted to say sorry.” You barely manage to say, voice close to breaking. Father Matthew stop what he's doing, pushing away from his desk.

“You’re not the only one guilty of what happened that day.” He walks up to you, his index finger gently tracing your jaw. “And I’m sorry for leaving you. I just…”

“Felt guilty?” You offer, getting a small smile in return from Father Matthew. Cupping your cheek, he nods softly, sighing at the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

“Yes. I cannot allow myself to be tempted.” He pauses, resting his forehead against yours. “But you make it very hard. Make me falter in my faith.”

He breaks away from you, walking back to his desk, the frustration evident. You walk over to Father Matthew, sitting down beside him on the desk. There’s so much you want to say, but you fear the words wouldn’t help. You settle for placing your hand on his, a gesture so innocent compared to what else you've done, but it still feels like you're playing with fire.

Father Matthew looks to his hand, lips quirking up in a little smile, before he turns his hand around, so he can hold yours. His thumb moves in soft circles on the back of your hand, the motion as soothing for him as it is to you.

Looking down at the table, you see a pair of glasses with dark red glass, so unlike the ones he usually wears. "What are the red glasses for? Can you read hidden codes in the books with them?"

"You have watched too many movies." Father Matthew grins, giving your hand a squeeze. He looks in their direction, scratching the back of his head. "Most blind people wear dark shades. Some to hide their eyes, but most because it's easier on the eyes."

"But... you're...?"

"Almost completely blind. Barely any sight left. So it's not long before I'll have to switch these out." He smiles, tapping the clear glasses on his nose.

After that, the two of you sit in silence for a while, none of you daring to speak. Finally, you break the silence.

"Father Matthew, I-"

“I believe you were put on this earth to be my test from God. My apple of Eden.” He interrupts with a pained smile, turning to you, his free hand coming to rest on your cheek. "And now that I've known desire, I fear one taste will never be enough."

You blush, the sacrilege in his words weighing heavy on you. You know what those words could mean, how they could bring ruin to him, as he would sacrifice everything he's worked for, for you.

His lips find yours in an innocent kiss. A silent 'God forgive me' falls from his lips, before they claim yours again. This time less timid as his tongue begs for entrance. It quickly turns heated, frantic, as he moves closer to you, unable to keep his distance any longer.

Father Matthew moves from the desk, only to stand between your parted legs, his hands shaking as they pause on your thighs. He falls to his knees, looking up at you.

“What wicked games our Lord can play, sending someone like you to cross my path.” He breathes out, fingers trembling as they open your jeans. Slowly he pulls them off along with your underwear, exposing you to him. Hands caressing up the length of your legs, causing Father Matthew to shiver.

“No one but you could make a man fall from grace.” He grins, nipping at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a string of whimpers from you. “Hail Mary, full of Grace.” He prays, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin, muttering prayers under his breath. You shiver as he nears your heated core, already soaked for him. He kisses you mound, his breath on your sensitive cunt making you tremble.

“Pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen.” He pleads, his eyes blown wide with lust as he dives in, his tongue licking up your wet slit.

"Oh God… Father Matthew." You moan out, fingers entangling in his hair as he devours you like a man starved. His perfect lips encircle your clit as he starts sucking, pulling a sweet moan from you. His name falls from your lips, like the softest prayer, a hymn more beautiful than any he'd ever heard before.

Lowering himself a little more, he licks at your entrance, the sweet taste of you making him moan into your folds. He grabs a hold of your hips, urging you closer as he pushes his tongue inside of you, wanting to drink you in completely.

Flattening his tongue, he licks up your slit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud. It's all too much and with a few more flicks of his tongue, you come undone with his name on your lips.

He keeps nipping at your sensitive core as you come down, your breathing rapid as you look down, marveling in the sight before you. He looks good on his knees, like a good catholic boy praying at the alter that is you.

Pulling him up to his feet, you kiss him with unknown passion, the hunger for him threatening to break you if you don't feel him inside you soon. Father Matthew feverishly pull at his belt, impatiently unzipping his pants. He palms his erection, pumping a few times before he lines up at your entrance, his whole body trembling.

He knows it's a sin, he knows he shouldn't. But he wants you, needs you. Not since he found his calling, his path, has anything called to him as you do. His Lilith, his temptress, unbroken and unbowed as you make this cold office feel like your own Garden of Eden.

Pushing in, his legs almost give in at the feeling of you. Your wet heat, so inviting as he pushes in, soft prayers once again spilling over his lips.

"God, give me strength." He mutters, voice close to breaking, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

Your tight warmth surrounding him, igniting a furious fire deep in his belly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He pulls out slowly, reveling in the feeling of you.

“How can anything that’s a sin feel so good?” He breathes out as he pushes in slowly, inch by delicious inch, before he bottoms out. “I’m sure this is what heaven feels like.”

By the time Father Matthew starts thrusting, you almost sob at the sensation of his hard cock inside you. The stretch is delicious and he takes his time, savoring you and your cunt with slow and deep thrusts. You clench around him, already close again.

He grips you harder, his pace quickening as he gets close to his own release. His hand moves up to your throat, squeezing gently, just enough to make you gasp for air.

"Matthew, please…" You whisper as he claims your lips, the kiss almost bruising as he pistons his hips against you. You scream out your release, fingers digging into Father Matthews shoulders. He only thrusts once more, before he spills inside you, filling you to the brim.

"Jesus Christ!" You pant, feeling how he throbs inside of you. Matthew just chuckles, kissing your forehead sweetly.

"Language. You shouldn't take his name in vain." He says seriously, but soon breaks into a laugh. He kiss you again, quick pecks on your lips, cheeks and nose.

"Sorry, Father." You feign innocence, biting your lip. Father Matthew just sighs, nudging your bottom lip free with his thumb before he kiss you softly.

"What should I do with you?" He laughs, placing another series of soft kisses on your lips.

"I think this calls for lots and lots of private confessions. This little lamb has strayed too far from the path." You grin, kissing his neck. He instantly moans, still new to this kind of intimacy.

What you’ve done, is the ultimate sin and could lead to Father Matthew being excommunicated. Forced to leave the church and his calling. But by the way his cock twitches against your core, you think he's ready to sin some more.

TFC girls: @phoebe-danvers @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @saintmurd0ck @mattmurdocksscars @a-bang-for-your-bucky @pedrito-friskito

Tagging a few people. Please just tell me if it's not okay: @lucy-sky @foli-vora @murdockswh0r3 @freshabogados @briefcasejuice @peterman-spideyparker

#priest!matt murdock x reader #priest!matt murdock #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #forgive me father for i have sinned... repeatedly

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pastafossa · 2 years

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DO YOU REMEMBER

The Matt Murdock prints I had sent to my friend while I was moving because I didn't know if they'd get to me before I moved???

THE FIRST HAS ARRIVED.

ALL HAIL @enstatia AND PRIEST!MATT MURDOCK.

#daredevil #matt murdock #art rec #charlie cox #priest!matt murdock #I slapped buy on that print SO FAST #and now it joins the shrine

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

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Divinity

Pairing: priest! Matt Murdock x reader (no specifications!)

Word Count: 1220 words

Outline: Meeting the man of your dreams comes with a lot of baggage and more questions than answers to the game of love.

Warnings: religious imagery, cigarettes, matt is a widow, swearing, implied smut, heavy angst.

Author’s Note: Discussed with miss Ariel, here <3 I literally was screaming throughout the whole hour I was writing it. Similar (in pain) to my exes trilogy.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Matt Murdock Masterlist

It hurts.

Doesn’t it?

Walking through life, step by step, leaving each place more haunted and frailer than before. Your soul ascending and descending, dancing and transforming, but never healing. Is as if nothing ever has any meaning, any truth, any reason. For anything, at all.

One moment you are at the top of the world, dancing arm in arm with your lover, and the next moment there are tears on your face and you are begging him to stay, to explain even.

Life is a game you can’t win. Only a series of tragedies hit one after the other. The scenery is familiar, yet somehow you think it changes. You believe it can change, you believe it can improve, and you believe things will finally fall into place. And yet never they do. Each time you came close to happiness and bliss it all got ripped away from you, blood still fresh on your fingers.

Six months ago, it was winter.

Dark, heavy, bleak, and cold. Nothing new, nothing old. Invited to the wedding of one of your cousins. You didn’t pay much attention to it. Two weeks before that you had broken up with your on and off partner and now you were only hoping for some peace before the next relationship.

But you never expected what happened that day.

You were there early, as always that was both an advantage and a disadvantage for you. For everyone really. But right there in the back alley, sitting on the steps smoking one cigarette after the other, you watched as the priest came outside and asked you for one.

“Helps with the nerves.” He said.

“Performance anxiety?” Always the jokester. “Don’t you say the same words every time?”

“Nah, I haven’t been doing that for too long.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He left and you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Pouty plump red lips, thick sunglasses, (evidence that he was blind), and the messiest brown hair you had ever seen on a man. Looked too young to be a priest, but then again you didn’t know.

The ceremony was dull but your eyes were fixated on him. He didn’t feel like a boring priest. He didn't feel like anything you had ever met before. He felt like hellfire.

Not much to your surprise, he stayed for the wedding dinner. From nearby chatter, you find out he was an old friend of the groom and he had tragically lost his wife a few years back which made him turn hardcore to religion.

And yet three hours later, liquor hard on both of your tongues you were exchanging moans and gasps and breaths, your head hitting the bookcase full of religious books.

The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions.

You woke up the next day, inside the security of his hairy chest and his strong muscles. You take time to admire him like he is, the sunlight hitting his face just right. And then you close your eyes again. Hoping this moment will stay forever in your mind.

“Fuck!” You hear him curse so loud that it jolts you awake and you only stare at him as he paces back and forth.

“This shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t-”

“Well, excuse me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Did he think you had already left?

The rest of the morning was a mix of him asking you to forgive him and you reassure him that you were very well into it. Eventually, you had to leave as you were working the evening shift that day.

And then he showed up at your house.

And again.

And pretty much every single day. Always at the same time.

And when he cries after sex safe inside your arms, you don’t mind. You soothe him and lull him to sleep, promising him you are always gonna be there. And you mean it. Sometimes, he remembers his wife, sometimes he is asking God for forgiveness, and sometimes he just sobs inaudibly.

“God doesn’t hate you. He is supposed to be all loving, I doubt something so fun would piss him off.”

You try to lighten the mood because the sound of his baritone laugh makes your heart sing. And it always pays off. He likes the light earnest of your being, how your soul feels when you lay on him.

And somehow you found yourself getting more and more familiar with him, feeling a profound sense of security and intercity you haven’t felt before. You caught yourself thinking of him in dull moments, riding the bus to watch him in Sunday service and letting him talk to you for hours on the phone about any current issue.

And yet you could have never predicted the way things would end up.

“We can’t.”

“But why?”

Sitting on the bench of the bus stop closest to the church.

“Is over.”

“No, it isn’t. Not for me.”

“It will be for you as well, soon enough.”

“I need you!”

“And I only need God, the only one I can hold on to.”

"You can't seriously say that."

"Is the only truth out there for me."

“Return to me.”

“I can’t.”

And there were streams of tears running down your face. And then he helps you get on the bus and you never see him again.

Until.

Two weeks later, he shows up, a suitcase in his hands.

“Let’s run away together. I got a taxi outside waiting. ”

Is after midnight, his usual time. There is no stench of alcohol on his breath and he seems serious enough.

You believe him.

Doesn’t take you too long to put a couple of clothes inside a bag, a couple of toiletries, and put on your coat rushing out the door. The driver helps him get inside the car and you sit there, heart beating faster than ever, his hand on your thigh.

“I knew you would come back.”

But he doesn’t respond, just smiles.

There is a small little house, tells you he inherited from his parents, in a town twenty miles over. He gets a job in a library, and you find a job at a tailor shop, three streets down from the house. You get into a routine, you cook for him, he washes the dishes, you shop for groceries, and he vacuums the house. You choose the curtains and he chooses the couch. You dry the clothes, and he irons them. You accidentally let your tea get cold, he makes you a fresh warm batch.

Until the summer came.

Heat crept in no matter what you did. Him wearing a white t-shirt, shoving his clothes back into his suitcase and you grip his muscle begging him to stay.

Supposed things were meant to be brighter in the summertime.

Supposedly.

And you watch him, get into the cab, scorching sun on your face, tears down your face. He could leave you just as easily in the warm light of the morning just as he could in the cold light of the night.

You sink down to your knees, hands hiding your face.

And you begin to hate the summertime. And this town and pretty much everything.

And you never ever see him again.

And you never ever want to see him again.

And life moves on.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#selenewrites #Matt Murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x reader #matt x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock angst #matt murdock au #priest!matt murdock

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omlwhatamidoinghere · 2 years

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"Bless me father, for I have sinned" is the same as "Sorry Daddy, I've been a bad girl"

#matt murdock #bless me daddy #I've been a bad girl👅#priest!matt murdock #priest!dave york

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enemiesandlovers · 2 years

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Catholicism leaving my body whenever I come across a priest!Matt fic

#it’s easy because irl priests are always old and ugly #plus i don’t believe in priests / churches #priest!matt murdock

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amberlynnmurdock · 9 months

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now why did i think it was a good idea to scroll the Priest!Matt Murdock tag during work?? what exactly was i thinking ??????

#good lord #now i wanna write it wahhhhh #matt murdock #priest!matt murdock

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visro · 1 year

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you guys (all three of you) are not ready for the priest!matt mattkarenfoggy fic i'm currently writing. it will be done in approximately.... let's check...at this rate... One Year

#foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #mattkarenfoggy #karenmattfoggy #foggykarenmatt #guys we need a new shipname #the one i like the most is #lovers at law #you know like avocados at law #yeah #ANYWAY #it's extremely smutty #it's great #so fun to write #priest!matt murdock

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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I Want To Fuck A Priest | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

PART 6 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for the priest you met at a farmer's market. Thankfully, he has a thing for you, too.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), porn without much plot, Priest!Matt, blasphemy (!!!), church setting, improper use of a priest's collar, improper use of a confessional booth, improper use of the act of confession, praise, prayer, oral afab!receiving, slight Dom!Matt, Catholic guilt, Fleabag reference, seriously if you are religious or triggered by the improper use of religion DO NOT read this!

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: This is for those who watched Fleabag and then saw all the 'Imagine Matt as a priest' and 'Charlie Cox once played a Spanish priest' posts and thought, "Same!" when Fleabag said, "I want to fuck a priest." I see you, and I feel you. I wrote this after re-watching Fleabag one night, but I added a little poetic twist while editing because before, it was just completely plotless oral sex. While that isn't bad, I needed to add some vibes. You're welcome.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The church bells ring as the clock strikes midnight. The night sky is void of dark clouds. In the darkness above the massive walls encasing the holy ground, the stars shine brighter than the city lights. New York City, the city that never sleeps, makes an exception for the house of God in the dead of the night, it seems.

It’s been…several years since my last confession.

The graveyard attached to the church looks threatening in its vacancy. It’s void of human souls except for the dead ones buried there. A raven claps its wings in the distance, following the gush of wind that brushes through the trees.

The bell rings twelve times before it stops, but the echo bounces off the stone walls and shakes the stained-glass windows, which seems to drag on for an eternity.

The last time I confessed my sins was before my communion. I don’t know if that makes me a bad Catholic, but lately, I’ve been having sinful thoughts, and I need to get them out of the way before I collapse under the weight of them.

You considered for the longest time whether or not you should come here. Faith has been your enemy for the longest time. You don’t believe in the Catholic Church, and yet you have found your way here, in the middle of the night, when everyone should be asleep in their beds.

This isn’t a normal night, by any means. You often lay awake at night and question your purpose in this life, but lately, you’ve been feeling like you’re drowning. Sins are subjective, and you never paid much mind to the term until now.

The thoughts you find yourself having late at night when you’re awake and lonely are far from holy. They aren’t ideal. They make you wonder just why you are thinking this way now.

But no man has ever been like him. And the worst part about it is that wanting him alone is an unholy train of thought you should have never submitted to.

You tried ignoring it, carrying it all by yourself, and trying to heal whatever complex you may have that could have led to this obsession in the first place, but your life has been a mess for long enough that it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, and no matter what you tried to do, you couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

He is the reason you came to church tonight to confess your sins. But you’re not here to find your way. You’re not here to ask for guidance from God. You told yourself that the unholiness of your thoughts needs to be cured and that is why you came here—to make this situation better for yourself—but the thought is ancient; it’s the twenty-first century and you’re the kind of person who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. The truth is, you’re here to get what you want, even if it will land you in the pits of hell for all eternity. And even if it kills you.

“You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” the low voice asks from the other side of the confessional booth.

You shake your head. “Not at all, Father. When I went to Sunday Mass this weekend, it was my first time in a church in a very long time,” you admit to him, “and this is my first confession since I was a child. I…I’m not really a devoted Catholic, you understand. I’m merely struggling right now, and I…I am in desperate need of guidance.”

Your lip quivers. Your voice resembles a tidal wave that comes and goes as nature pleases.

He can’t see you. It’s not the curtain that is separating you and is starting to feel like worlds apart—he can’t see you. He can only hear and smell you, and that alone makes your thighs clench with need.

Should you be doing this in a church? Should you fantasize about a man of God and want to claim him, coming to his sanctuary to tell him the truth and mess with his head? You know that it’s wrong, but the wrong thing often feels too right to stop.

When you met him at the farmer’s market the other day, he was so endlessly kind to everyone, including yourself. He invited you to Sunday mass, and you went. You went on a walk with him afterward, and there seemed to be something there, but he couldn’t act on it because he is who he is and what he is. He made a vow. He can’t have you, no matter how badly he wants to, and one look into his unfocused hazel eyes when he took off those red glasses he always wears told you that he does want you. It led to another sleepless night among many, and now you’re here.

You’re so utterly selfish, but God, you can’t stop it. When you want something, you would do anything to get it. He makes you feel things you never felt before. It’s terrifying, but you have to allow yourself to jump into unknown waters if you want to learn how to swim.

He clears his throat, and you can hear the chair creak under his weight as he shifts. Is it possible that you’re doing the same to him that he is doing to you?

“I want to start by saying that you’re really brave,” he says. The sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. “But God offers people guidance in a symbolic sense. I can take your confession, tell you how to repent for your sins, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

You sigh. “I wish you would though.”

A chuckle passes his lips. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s weighing you down, sweetheart, and we will go from there?”

Sweetheart.

Yes, you think, this is your one-way ticket to hell.

“I’ve been having thoughts,” you confess.

“Thoughts?” he asks.

“Yes. Unholy thoughts.” Your breath comes in weak puffs of air. The booth seems to cave in on you. You wish he would step out of his booth into yours and stuff his cock into your mouth. For him, you would shut up. You would do whatever he tells you to do, and you would do so gladly.

Fuck. You want to fuck a priest.

But lucky for you, Father Matthew wants to fuck you too. He’s here, at midnight, because you were lost and he was still there—he told you he spends his nights at church sometimes because the city gets too loud for him. You couldn’t go anywhere else because any place where he isn’t doesn’t seem worth visiting.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath. You imagine him swallowing, his white collar constricting his labored airflow. You imagine him pulling at it to free himself, but he can’t. Those sinfully thick fingers of his would feel even better on your skin.

“Unholy thoughts,” Father Matthew asks, “about whom, sweetheart?”

He’s pushing your buttons with that nickname. It’s so not professional. The lines are starting to blur.

“A man,” you tell him.

“A man?”

“A man of God.”

The confession causes a bout of silence. You could have heard a hairpin drop.

His chair creaks again, and his voice reminds you of an animalistic growl right before an apex predator attacks its prey. “And what unholy thoughts have you been having about this man of God?” he inquires.

Your inner walls clench around thin air. Sweat drips down your temples, and the arousal soaks your underwear. Your nipples strain against your shirt. If you grip the seat any harder, you will soon find wooden chips under your nails.

You lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you whisper. “And I want to touch him.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“And in your thoughts, does he satisfy you?”

Your answer comes promptly, “Always.”

There is not a scenario in which Father Matthew could possibly leave you unsatisfied.

The chair creaks again. Something in the air shifts.

Your voice is breathless and needy, and so fucking desperate when you speak into the silence, “Just tell me what to do, Father.”

“Okay,” he says. His leather shoes drag across the floor of the booth and toward the curtain that marks the exit of his side. The next word out of his mouth knocks all the air out of your lungs, “Kneel.”

You don’t even have time to question his request. Within seconds, the curtain through which you’ve stepped into the confessional booth is torn to the side, and there he is, in all of his glory, right in front of you, and his thick cock is straining against his black slacks.

You pinch yourself, but you’re not dreaming. This is real. This is what you wanted, and you weren’t imagining the mutual attraction due to delusions. He does want you, and he is about to break every rule in his book—and the lord’s book.

You sink to your knees. The only thing you can see on his face is pure, unbridled lust and the ugly truth of Catholic guilt. He must loathe himself for wanting you.

Matt removes his glasses, revealing his beautiful eyes to you. In the dim candlelight, they appear almost black.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” you ask.

His hand brushes your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He steps into the booth and closes the curtain behind him. “Tonight, call me Matt.”

That is the last thing he says before he gets on his knees before you, and he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that is strong enough to make the angels howl.

His hand rests around your throat, feeling your pulse. He may not be able to see you with his eyes, but the way he touches you paints a perfect picture of your presence, and you feel every last ounce of his devotion.

He explores the depth of your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, loving you. His hands feel beautifully rough against your skin, just like you imagined they would be after years of praying. He sees himself as the hands of God. A messenger. His goodness makes your heart swell and your core flood with more than unbridled arousal—this is human nature in all its emotional glory, and you no longer feel ashamed. You can’t possibly when he is holding you like this.

He exhales into your mouth—no, he breathes life into your soul. “You’re the most sinful yet purest thing I have ever laid my hands on,” Matt says.

You gasp against his luscious lips. “I wouldn’t want to make you turn your back on God, or–”

He cuts you off, “I did that when I first thought about your body on mine and coming so deep inside of you that you’ll carry me with you for days. I don’t care about God because if having him means that I can’t have you,” he says, “I don’t want him anymore.”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Turning a priest against God was never your intention, but you are not in charge of his feelings, nor will you ever be. Matt wants you badly enough to abandon religion, and you will carry that with you until the day you die.

He lifts you back onto the edge of the wooden chair, pulling at your clothes and your undergarments. The moonlight hits his face as the cold air of the church hits your bare pussy. He looks ethereal like this, on his knees for you. His hazel eyes bore into your soul. He wears his heart on his sleeves and a collar around his neck.

Your priest crosses his chest. He asks God for forgiveness. And then, with one gentle tug at your thighs, he buries his face in your wet cunt, and he feasts as if your sex was the last supper. As God’s disciple, he is determined to eat up every last bite offered to him. Every last drop from your cunt is his, and your lips part in a moan that echoes through the church like the bells did when it hit midnight.

“Fuck,” you cry out.

He flattens his tongue against you, licking a long stripe over and then through your folds. He twirls the tip of his tongue over your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with such precision, your walls clench at the sheer explosion of pleasure. You have never felt anything like it. He turns something unholy into heaven, and you’re drowning in the river to the Garden of Eden.

His lips suction around your clit. The obscene squelching of your velvety walls fills the booth. It sounds deadly noisy to you. You want to cover your mouth to stop the moans from traveling, but he traps your hand with his, guiding them to his hand, telling you to guide him.

Instead, one of your hands moves to his collar. It’s his turn to moan. You tug at the symbol of his priesthood, forcing his tongue deeper into your hole. He laps up your juices as though his life depends on it.

“Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” Matt murmurs against you.

You moan again, louder this time. He is repenting for wanting to dive into your pussy until he gets swept away by the tide, but it is far too late to back out now. Your pleasure has become his priority.

“Lord God,” he repeats, “in your goodness have mercy on me.”

The pleasure is turning into a tight knot in your lower abdomen. You can feel it consuming you and your senses. You’re floating. The light at the end of the tunnel is not so far out of reach anymore. Every suck and every lick at your folds, and every thrust of his tongue into your tight walls pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In your goodness, have mercy on me.

He bites down lightly on your clit. Your toes curl, and his name comes out in a groan.

Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt.

Right now, you are his God. By drinking your arousal like holy water and pushing you toward an orgasm he is repenting. The symbolism makes your heels dig into his back as you buck your hips against his mouth, and when he adds one of those thick fingers, curling them up against that sweet spot inside of you, you can barely stand it anymore.

Create me in a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.

“God, Matthew!” your moan interrupts his plea for penance only briefly.

He swats your thigh. “No blasphemy when I feast at the altar,” he says. The vibration of his voice adds to the knot, tightening it, and threatening it to burst.

You’re almost there. Almost…

“Have mercy on me, a sinner,” he continues. His tongue slides between your folds once again, gathering your slit. His fingers curl upward again. He’s mixing different prayers, or maybe these are his own words, but you are not sure how much longer you can hold it. But he wants you to hold it. You don’t want to disappoint the man who is worshiping at your feet, your pussy, his altar, and you are his salvation as much as you are his saving grace.

“In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” he prays, “I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things—but fuck, I don’t.”

Does that mean he loves you? It is too soon to tell that, but he is devoted, and devotion can be just as sinfully sweet as the rawest feeling of love.

“Have mercy on me, God. Amen!”

His collar is starting to tear under your vice grip.

Matt thrusts his digit into you until it disappears, and he finally decides to show the mercy he was begging for to you. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says.

Your thighs lock around his head as the knot breaks in two. You come, hard, and the wave tears him down with you, shooting his cum into his slacks like the good Catholic boy he is.

You let go of his collar when your orgasm has done its damage.

“No,” he stops you.

“No?” you ask, still breathless.

“No,” he says, lifting his head to grin at you, not like a man of God but the Devil himself. “I have not done nearly enough penance.”

As a priest, Matt is used to being on his knees until they’re bruised; until he can’t stand straight anymore, so he has to remain there, cowering before a God he more often than not does not believe in.

Before you can protest, he dives back into your endless ocean, and you have no choice but to lean back and take it.

He is not the only one doing penance tonight, after all—you both are.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x afab!reader #pwp #afab!reader #matt murdock x you #no y/n #priest!matt #matt murdock priest au #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #from the vault #reader insert #inspired by fleabag #because who doesn't want to fuck a priest

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