Matt Murdock X F!reader - Blog Posts

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"Waking Nightmare" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)🌧️

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 7. Took an extra day to work on it cause this is a very angsty one, since our prompt was 'Nightmare' and I went with the classic, 'he accidently swings at you while asleep' trope (many thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires and @shouldbestudying41 for helping me with our chats on this one!). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings for this chapter: BIG angst warning on this one, along with a warning for being hit (not intentional), nightmares, guilt, blood, Matt's convinced he committed DV so that is discussed.

It began, like so many disasters did, with a series of small fractures. 

What started as a horrible week turned out to be the harbinger of a truly terrible month for Matt. Despite near-constant, frantic late nights of casework at Nelson and Murdock, the firm lost two important cases in short order. Both cases had been a long shot when it came to success, but that had done little to soften the blow to Foggy, Karen, and Matt—especially Matt, who’d made promises to client families that he’d been unable to keep.

Matt’s work as Daredevil hadn’t gone much better. A new gang had moved into the Kitchen and set up shop, staking out a territory drenched in blood, ash, and terror. Matt had thrown himself into that fight with the same determination that he always did, and while he’d made serious progress breaking down their operation, there had still been losses. As far as he was concerned, the lives lost in the past month—the three targeted victims in the burning apartment complex he’d been unable to reach in time, and the two store clerks shot and killed in their shops before he could make it to them—were caused by his own personal failings. Despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise, the perceived blood on his hands had only driven him to devote himself even more ferociously to his work at night and during the day.

That devotion snowballed rapidly into a lack of sleep, often the first casualty in Matt’s life when things got stressful or busy. The exhaustion only sent him spiraling further into bouts of anger and a retreat behind his emotional walls. He snapped at you whenever you tried to talk to him about it, shying away from the kind touches he felt he didn’t deserve. While a quiet apology almost always came later in the night, soft and full of regret, it didn’t change the fact that you could see him beginning to splinter and crumble beneath the pressure he’d placed on himself, your Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. You’d gone through this with him before, the periods in which it all seemed to go wrong and he refused to strap on the lifevests you stubbornly threw to him over and over again. As best you could tell, when these storms came there was no other option but to simply plant your roots deep and ride it out with him, ensure he knew he wasn’t alone. And when he finally fell to pieces, giving beneath the weight, you’d make sure he had a loving hand to help him glue his bloody, broken pieces back together. 

You’d thought that fracturing would come from something on the streets. Another death, maybe, or sheer exhaustion. 

You’d never expected it to happen here.

Not at home. 

“You’re going out?” You watched him dig through his father’s trunk for his suit, his back to you. He’d only just returned from another late night at the office. The only reason you were seeing him at all was because you’d woken up thirsty, heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The distance between you both abruptly felt so much farther than a meager ten feet, so much harder to cross. Still, you tried. “It’s almost two. Some rest might—” “Don’t,” he said tightly, yanking his mask out and tossing it back onto the couch. He pulled out the rest of his suit next along with his billy clubs. His movements were unnaturally stiff, almost robotic. “I need to…” He sucked in an uneven breath, reaching up to run an exhausted hand through his dark hair.  After a moment, he dropped his hand, going back to what he’d been doing. If anything, your implication had only made him more determined, his voice now resolute and closed off. “Our appeals aren’t going well. The city’s quiet for the first time in a month, but that might not last. I need to go out. Just for an hour or two. Go back to bed.”

You gnawed on your lower lip in thought as he stalked over to the couch. Without his shirt, it was so much easier to see the lines of stress and tension cutting their way through him like winding roads, his muscles drawn up tight and hard. The bruising along the canvas of his back and ribs stood out with every neon flash of the billboard beyond the windows, adding a layer of blood red to the spiraling waves of deep blue and sullen indigo painted on his skin. That he’d been hurt even with the protection of the suit told you just how bad it had gotten out there. He needed rest, desperately. You both knew it. But you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to keep him here, forcing him to listen to the sounds of the city without being able to do anything about it. It was a promise you’d made to yourself, once, and you intended to keep it.

“Ok, D.” You kept your tone gentle. He’d hear you even across the room. “Ok. Come back safe.”

Some of his tension eased at your agreement, and he slowed where he’d been opening up his suit, preparing to step into it. Had he really thought you’d fight him? 

“I…” He shook his head after a moment. He turned until you could see him in profile, that same red light now highlighting the dark, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. But for just a moment, there was the barest softening in his expression, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. You knew this look, this hand stretched out through the bars of the darkened prison cell he’d found himself trapped within. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” 

“I know. Don’t worry about me for now. We’ll work it out. Just be careful tonight.” You tilted your head as he took a few tentative steps towards you. You took your own small step, cautious like you were approaching a stray who might run if you moved too quickly. He lifted his hand once you were within reach, the back of his fingers stroking lightly, tenderly against your cheek. You turned and brushed your lips fondly against his fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as you soaked in the warmth of his skin. It was the most intentional touch you’d gotten from him in a week, outside those moments in his sleep when he held you close, and god, were you grateful for it, something in you easing at the return of his affection. It meant he was coming out of this, swimming back up to the light and out of the void he’d been lost in. Sometimes you wondered if him denying himself your touch wasn’t just another way he punished himself when his darker thoughts seized hold of him. “I love you, too.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He tipped your chin up so he could place a tired kiss on your forehead before he let you go and returned to his suit. His motions, at least, seemed more settled now. “I’ll be back in an hour if it’s quiet, I promise. I’ll find a way to make it up to you this weekend.”

You left him there in the living area, more content than you’d felt in weeks. Sure, the past month had been shit for you both, but you were coming out of it now just like always. You fell asleep comfortably with that knowledge, cradling it inside you against your heart as you drifted off. 

You weren’t sure what it was that woke you later. Not at first, anyway. The bedroom was dark and quiet, save for the usual sounds of the city at night that leaked in through the closed windows. Matt’s arms weren’t around you, but it was possible he hadn’t gotten back yet. Without any other signs of danger, you gave a soft huff of irritation. Figures. Waking up over nothing. You shifted your head around on the pillow until you found a nice cold spot, closed your eyes, and began to drift back off. 

Then you heard it again behind you.  

Your brow furrowed, eyes blinking back open.

Right, now you knew it wasn’t just a dream. 

The sound you’d heard wasn’t quite a moan. It wasn’t a word, either. Hell, you didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t a happy noise, that much you knew. This sounded… almost pained, hitched and edged with something like panic. You blearily rolled over to get a better look, still half-asleep.

Apparently Matt had gotten back while you were asleep, the shadowy outline of him curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He was also facing away from you, which was… odd. Most nights, he slept with you in his arms—or him in yours on particularly bad nights. That he’d either consciously or unconsciously placed this much distance between you would have stirred the smoldering embers of worry if you’d been more awake. It wasn’t right that he was over ther, curled in on himself, small and isolated, a lonely island in the sea of silk sheets. As you watched, he twitched restlessly, before making that same small, pained noise you’d heard before. Or was it scared? 

Nightmare, you thought sleepily. That explained the distance. He’d probably just rolled away in his sleep. You yawned, untangling yourself enough from your cocoon of blankets that you start crawling over towards him. Clearly this was one of those nights when he was the one that needed to be held. You weren’t entirely sure why your presence helped to soothe his nightmares, but for whatever reason, your arms around him and your breathing against his back, your heartbeat pressed against his back, was often all he needed. Even if he woke up when you got over to him, he’d have an easier time falling back asleep with you holding him. He always did. Especially after such a terrible month. 

You yawned again when you finally settled down behind him, throwing one arm over his waist and spooning affectionately up against his back. He stirred slightly at that, his body going tense and hard, his chest resonating with a soft growl. But he quickly quieted, soothed at the sound of your voice.

“It’s ok, Matt,” you said sleepily, breathing slowly, intentionally against the hard line of his back. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” You tucked your legs up behind his, nuzzling over onto his pillow, hunting for him even as your eyes fell shut again. You’d kick yourself later, for what you did next. 

Without thinking, you leaned in… and brushed a firm kiss against the back of his neck. 

Just like that, the peace, the calm was shattered. 

A wild snarl filled the air, followed by a sudden, blinding explosion of pain across your face that lit up the black behind your eyes like a skyline of fireworks. Before you could even cry out, you’d been thrown clear of the bed. You only just avoiding cracking your temple on the corner of Matt’s nightstand. But what your head missed, the rest of your body didn’t. As you slid across the nightstand and came crashing to the ground, you brought down every last object on the nightstand with you, glass and metal shattering somewhere far away from where you were, the whole of the world gone thick and quiet. 

Things got fuzzy then, a sickening carnival maze of light spinning in your vision every time you blinked. Your dazed thoughts were thick, slow to come together. But, still, you tried, because something was very, very wrong. 

Matt. 

Yes. You needed to find Matt. He was probably out on the streets still. It was the only way someone could have broken in just to hit you like an asshole. You weren’t sure where you were crawling too exactly, but away from the threat felt like a good start. As you moved, something hot and wet began to pour down your face in steady streams, irritating and coppery whenever it made it into your mouth. Fortunately, that was a distant problem. You could worry about whatever was on your face later. Your only concern at the moment was holding your attacker off until Matt could get here and kick some fucking ass. 

A pair of feet slammed against the floor, someone calling out, panicked and frantic. The sound was far too garbled for you to understand it immediately, but what it did tell you was that your attacker was still close by. There wasn’t anything around you that you could easily use to defend yourself, or at least, there wasn’t until your hand bumped into something long and metallic. You snatched it up, ignoring the sudden appearance of pain in your palm as you did so. You dragged it with you, metal squealing across the floorboards as you scrambled on your hands and knees. In seconds, you’d made it out of the bedroom and into the living area. 

Good. When Matt came through the rooftop door, he’d have less distance to cross to get to you. You’d also be able to see your attacker better in the flash of the billboard lights, though the flashing sea of red light made your eyes water and burn. But you could also feel your vision clearing, which was great. You’d need it. 

A shaking, trembling hand brushed against your shoulder. 

You rose up swiftly on your knees, metal rod clutched tight in both hands. “Get away from me!” you snarled, putting every last ounce of strength you had into your motion as you twisted and swung. 

And Matt—

What?

—snapped his hand up, catching the lamp rod just before it could hit him in the face. 

“...Matt?” you asked shakily, unable to hide your confusion. “It was you?”

“This can’t be happening, no, no no no,” he choked out tearfully, his breath coming panicked and wild. His tone was so ragged you almost didn’t recognize the voice as his. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding, I-I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The lamp rod fell from your paired grips. Hands shaking, he brought them up tentatively towards your face. He stopped just before he could touch you, hovering them a breath away from your skin. The first of his tears began to trail down his cheeks, his expression twisting in what you alarmingly recognized as grief. You’d seen him cry before, but never like this. “God, I-I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry, I thought you were…”

He was… apologizing. But that didn’t make sense, no matter how much you tried to force the idea to settle into your dazed mind. It couldn’t have been Matt. You weren’t afraid of Matt. Matt didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hit you. Those were facts, as irrefutable as gravity, as reliable as the rise and the fall of the sun. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he wasn’t holding you. He always did when you were hurt. “You… you hit me?”

The low, agonized noise he made was inhuman. It was the sound of a wounded animal, of someone who’d just been carved open. His hands drew back from your face, dropping down towards your hands where they’d settled on your thighs, though he seemed just as hesitant to touch you there. Tears dripped down from his face, joining the droplets of thick, deep red now scattered across the floor. Had you left all fo that there? You really… were bleeding, weren’t you?

“I-I… I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hitching with what was almost a whimper. He grabbed one of the blankets off the chair next to him, the one you loved to curl up under with him. He slid it as gently as he could around one of your hands—oh, you were bleeding there, too, just a little, goddamn cheap lamp—though he avoided allowing his skin to brush against yours. “I was… having a nightmare, and I thought-I thought you were someone else, they had you and I was trying to-to get to you but someone grabbed me and I—God, you have a concussion, your nose is-is bleeding. I have to call Claire, get away from you b-before I… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—”

Finally, the idea settled into your mind, the world abruptly righting itself. 

The nightmare.

Well, that made sense.

You still weren’t quite thinking right, thoughts thick and fuzzy like wisps of cotton, a massive, throbbing ache in your head and face that only got worse every time the billboard lit up. But you you’d been right. Matt didn’t hit you. He hadn’t hit you, because he hadn’t known it was you. Hell, he’d even apparently been trying to save you, at least in his nightmare. It seemed simple enough to you, an obvious accident. But it didn’t seem quite so simple to Matt. You reached for his cheek. “Matt,” you soothed, your words only a tiny bit slurred as he sniffled and wrapped the blanket tighter around your hand, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. “It’s ok, Matt. You didn’t mean it.”

But the second your fingertips brushed against his skin, he threw himself backwards and out of your reach, his dark eyes wild. “Don’t!” he spat.  You faltered just a little, suddenly unsure. But you quickly shook it off, shakily climbing to your feet to follow after him. Your own injuries felt secondary in that moment, because this… this was the wound, the disaster that might do you both in if you didn’t find some way to stop it. Your bloody nose and hand could wait. “You didn’t mean it, Matt. It was an accident.” 

For every step you took forward, he took one back, the two of you performing some twisted, heartbreaking sort of dance across the floor. Eventually you cornered him against the wall, hemming him in. He was almost shaking as you stepped in close. Your hand rose and this time around, you successfully managed to cup his jaw, trying to press your affection, your calm into his skin. “Easy, Devil-Man. I’m ok,” you murmured. You swiped one thumb over the trail of tears sliding down his cheek, a new one appearing each time you’d cleared away the last, an endless stream of them falling from his grief-stricken eyes as they darted sightlessly around you. “This wasn’t your fault. Help me get cleaned up and then we’ll talk about it, ok?” 

He hitched a soft, quiet breath when you tugged his head down, his forehead pressed to yours like he’d done for you so many times before. You breathed with him for a moment, trying to ease him down.  He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as you stroked your thumb against his cheek, and for a moment, you almost thought you’d managed to fix it. 

A breath. 

His jaw clenched, and your heart sank.

This time when his eyes opened, all traces of warmth in them were gone. Whatever door you’d once pried open was now shut, slammed resoundingly in your face. “No. It’s not ok.” He brushed your hand away, sliding out from between you and the wall without so much as a pause. He reached up to wipe away his tears, the motion sharp and edged with tension. “Where are you going?” “I need to call Claire to come look you over,” he said flatly, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll use my burner. Mine was on the… the nightstand.” The brief crack in his voice, a brittle chip in the armor he’d just tried to throw up around himself, only confirmed what you’d hoped you could avoid.

“Matt,” you said softly. “Don’t lock me out like this.”

He may have been aiming for calm but he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, not entirely anyway. Not when his hands were still trembling as he felt around on the kitchen counter, acting like he hadn’t heard you. “I’ll call Foggy, too. Once they’re here, I’ll go.” 

“What?” You watched in disbelief as he kept hunting along the counter. With every second that passed and he failed to find it, he grew more frustrated, more angry. He quickly turned his back to you, body stiff like he was expecting a sudden blow. “You’re you’re leaving me?” “I hit you,” he spat viciously, another seething wave of emotion bubbling up through the cracks of his voice like acid, bitter and toxic and just as liable to burn. Here it was, here it was: the self-loathing, the disgust, the burning hatred. He drew in a sharp breath, shivering as he did. And on the exhale, he seemed to have regained control. His voice rapidly returned to that same cold, emotionless monotone, though he kept his face out of your view. Whatever expression he had would give him away, you were certain of it. “I almost broke your nose. You have a concussion. You cut yourself trying to get away from me. I’ve put men in the hospital for a lot less. You’re not safe with me—”

“That’s horseshit,” you huffed, starting towards him on wobbly legs. You had to stop and grab one of the chairs just to keep your balance and halt you from pitching over onto the floor. Not that it was a concern; no matter how upset Matt was, he’d catch you. But still, you falling would only make things worse. You forced yourself to breathe through the roiling in your stomach, unsure if it was the concussion that was making you nauseous or simply the knowledge that he was trying to leave you. But you wouldn’t let those fucking voices in his mind—ones that probably sounded like Stick—drive him away from you. Not without a fight. At least your nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. “It was an accident. We both know it. This just—it happens something with nightmares, including non-vigilantes, Matt. I’ve woken up scared and smacked you in the face more than once, and you know it.” 

“You didn’t throw me across a nightstand or give me a concussion.” He barked out a bitter laugh. The hateful sound filled you with dread, as did the heartbreaking resolve beneath it. He’d already made up his mind, convinced himself of what he’d done. “I always knew. That’s what they all said. That I was cursed. That I had the Devil inside me. That all I wanted was to hit someone. This is who I am. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down, I knew. And now I hurt you. I can’t let that happen again, even if it means I have to leave to keep you safe.” 

“Matt,” you said desperately, managing to make it to the couch, bracing yourself against the arm of it. If you could just get to him, you could fix this. You knew that. “That’s not true. Let’s just talk about this.”

Matt ignored you again, snatching up his keys and starting towards the hall. “I can’t find my burner,” he said. That tone, flat and empty of all feeling, was so much worse than anger. You’d take anger any day—you’d take grief, or hurt. Emotion meant you had a way in, that he’d opened himself to you, baring all the parts of him left vulnerable and raw. This tone, though…You couldn’t help but feel like you were banging your bloodied fists against a door abruptly chained shut. “Keep pressure on your hand. I’m going next door to ask for their phone so I can call Claire. I’ll only be gone for a minute, then I’ll be back. I’ll find somewhere else to stay once she’s here to take care of you.”

No. 

No, he couldn’t leave you over an accident. Your heart rate shot up, rattling against the lump in your throat. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, panic crushing your lungs in their grip, something that made him him stiffen. And you-you couldn’t let him leave, not like this, not when he might not come back. There had to be something, some way to reach him and keep him from destroying, burning down the best thing in both of your lives. And there was only one method that might work in a moment like this.  

Holding up a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. 

And Matt… froze in the hall, a mere three steps from the front door. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, more firmly now. You didn’t bother to hide the waver in your voice. You drew in a slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. It wasn’t blood running down your face, now, and he’d know it. “I’m sorry for scaring you. For touching your neck in your sleep. I know how vulnerable it is, and how you feel about it being touched by anyone other than me. I didn’t think about what touching that might feel like during a nightmare.” 

“Stop apologizing,” he growled, his shoulders drawing up tight. “They’re not the same thing, and you know it.”

But despite his objections, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t left yet. Hell, maybe he’d found he couldn’t. Not when you were injured. You’d take it if it meant you had a chance.

“Aren’t they the same?” You reached up with your good hand, sniffling a little as you wiped some of the blood off your face. “According to you, they are. It doesn’t matter what I meant to do, right? Just that I did something that led to me hurting you. And this is hurting you. I can tell.” You choked out a wobbly laugh when he flinched. You used that break in his armor to edge closer, praying you didn’t stumble and fall, losing the ground you’d just gained. “Do you remember when I slipped and dropped that bowl last month and it shattered and cut your feet?” 

“That’s not—”

“I had to pick shards of porcelain out of your poor bare feet. I felt horrible.” Another step. Then another. “Remember when I smacked you in the face during my nightmare last January? Split your lip and everything.” You caught one hand against the shelving unit by the hall, taking a split second to breathe, more tired than you wanted to admit. “You told me those weren’t my fault. You even fucking laughed about your lip. But if this accident is your fault, then all those times are my fault, and so is this one, if you think about it. So I’m sorry, Matt.”  

“I hit you,” came his voice, trembling and uneven. You had a feeling those three small words were your target, spiraling on loop in his mind, their sharp edges tearing into him over and over again. His head slowly dropped, his body curling in on itself as you stopped a few feet away. He shuddered then, and without being able to see his face, you couldn’t tell if it was shame or just… hurt. “Don’t apologize when I hit you. I threw you across the room. I-I hurt you.” 

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered. You took another step, at last coming within touching distance where you might be able to reach him. “It was an accident, sweetheart. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know it was me. But… but if you want to talk about hurting me, let’s talk about this here.” He stilled when he felt the first gentle touch of your hand against his back. Warm, unafraid, tender. 

“If you’re worried about hurting me, this is how you’d do it,” you said softly, trailing your fingers down the line of his spine with all the love you had in you. “By leaving, Matt. By leaving me here without you when I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. Don’t do that to me. Please.” This time the sound he made was a broken sob, one hand rising up to fist in his hair. He sank slowly to the ground. You sank with him, winding your arms tight around him as he finally broke, shattering beneath the weight of his guilt. When he didn’t reject your touch, you quickly shifted around him, climbing into his lap. His arms found their way home around your waist, clinging to you tight as you rocked him in your arms, his face buried against your neck, tears flowing hot to join the blood still clinging to your skin. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with sorrow, each breath one he had to fight for.  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry—” “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I promise, baby,” you whispered, lifting his head to press your forehead to his like you had before. His eyes were shut, but they fluttered open just for you, as he finally, finally let you back in. You could almost see the torment swirling in them, the guilt, but that was alright. If you could see those shadows, you could fight them. “You were asleep, Matt. You were dreaming. You can’t control what your brain does then. If it thinks there’s a threat, it’s going to react without your input. Do you know how I can be so sure you won’t hurt me? How this all just proved I’m safe with you?” His blank gaze shifted around you, one shaking hand coming up to trace your smile in open disbelief. 

“Because the second you woke up, you were horrified.” You leaned into him, running the fingers of your good hand through his hair as he let out another shaky, breathless sob. “The second you woke up and realized it was me, it just broke you. You would never choose to hurt me, Matt. You're not a violent person, even if you've been taught to use it out there. A bad man doesn’t react like you did. A good man does. You are a good man, do you hear me? And if you leave?” You found his hand with your good one to lace your fingers together and squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed, as did yours. “I swear to God I’ll go stand in an alley in my pajamas and scream that until you have to come protect me from every mugger in the Kitchen. Which will only prove my point that you’d never let anything or anyone hurt me.”  He choked out a quiet, watery laugh, letting you bring his head back down to your throat. His tearful groan at the affection just made you cling to you tighter. “I love you,” he hitched out. “I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. God forgive me, I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I love you, too, Matt,” you whispered, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not your fault. Don’t let your nightmare knock us out this easily. Get back up. Stay, and fight for me, for us. Can you do that for me?”

You felt his eyes fall closed, and for the first time since he’d woken up, you heard a different kind of resolve in his voice: one that was far more familiar, far more welcome, solid and warm and steadfast, a strength you’d happily build your life upon, as he let your love seep in through the cracks to at last chase away some of the dark.

His breath eased out against your skin, soft and familiar. “I… ok. I can do that.”

“Good.”

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Overstimulation🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Tuna-Tober Day 8 - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

prompt: Overstimulation

word count: 2,600

content: established relationship, light drinking, public sex toy use, public orgasms, language, overstimulation, unprotected piv sex (at home), aftercare. 18+ MINORS DNI!

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Matt asked, flipping the slender remote in his hand as you pulled on the underwear that would be controlled by the device. He had gotten you the garment for your anniversary a few days prior, and you weren’t sure of the setting he wanted to use them in. Until tonight.

“It’ll be fun,” you told him, a nervous smile on your lips that he could tell wasn’t completely genuine.

“But are you okay with it?” Matt rephrased his question, wanting a straight answer before you both exited the apartment. “It was my idea, so I need to know if you’re on board. I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to blow away your nerves as you nodded. “I’m okay with it.”

By the steady beat of your heart, Matt knew you were telling the truth. So he smiled and pocketed the remote, but not before giving you an experimental buzz with the toy. When you let out the quietest of moans that he knew only he could hear, a cocky smirk lined his lips as he left you to finish getting ready.

The conversation with Matt as the two of you were getting ready to go out to Josie's was fresh on your mind as you sat in the booth in tense anticipation for what was to come. You were in the corner of the booth, Matt sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, and Karen right across from you. Foggy had just shown up with Marci on his arm and the four of them were engaged in their typical work conversations for the first little bit of the gathering while you were stuck in your head picturing what Matt would be doing to you…who knew when?

As the three others became engrossed in their own conversation, Matt leaned over and mumbled into your ear, “You’re getting yourself worked up and I haven’t even turned them on, Angel.” Angel. Matt only called you that when he got rough in the bedroom. Just hearing him say that caused a shiver to run down your spine and you felt more heat pooling between your thighs. You started to cross your legs to relieve some of the tension, but let out a quiet gasp when you suddenly felt a soft vibration fluttering against your clit. The hand not controlling the little remote landed on your thigh and massaged it gently as Matt whispered in a husky tone, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

When he said that, the vibrations got a little stronger, and you felt your heart rate increase in response. The grip you had on your drink glass tightened as your hands began to shake as a sudden feeling of anxiety flooded the forefront of your mind. And just like that the vibrations stopped. “Matt, what-?” you started quietly.

“Your cortisol levels just shot through the roof. Something’s wrong. I’m not continuing if you aren’t comfortable with this, I told you that,” he replied, a more gentle tone taking over for the moment.

Throwing a look over to Karen, Foggy, and Marci, you whispered, “I’m just afraid of them catching us, is all… What if they hear it? What if they hear me?”

“None of them reacted when I turned it on,” Matt assured you. That goddamn smirk made its way back onto his lips as he added, “I can turn it on the highest setting and we can see if they notice. Would that make you feel better?”

Your breath hitched in your throat for a second in response to the proposition. You were at an impasse. While turning it to the highest setting would prove whether or not the others could hear the vibrations, you ran the risk of them hearing it and asking questions. It felt like something you would never be able to live down. It felt like something illegal. Public indecency at the least. But Matt wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure it was okay…

With that last thought in mind, you nodded. And nothing could have prepared you for the feeling that took over your body in the seconds that followed. As you nearly doubled over when the intense vibrations assaulted your clit, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning. Loudly. You had used toys before, sure, but it had been a while because Matt always took care of you without them. You had long since forgotten how easily vibrators worked you up and how they could make that coil tighten in your abdomen nearly as fast as Matt could.

When he heard how your body reacted to the vibrator, Matt nearly forgot that he was supposed to be gauging if the others could hear it over the music and conversation that made up the atmosphere of Josie’s. Tearing his attention away from your body, Matt tuned into his friends and the air around them to see if there was even a nearly imperceptible movement of their heads that would indicate that they heard what was happening on the other side of the table. He waited a few seconds before he was satisfied that the three of them were still completely oblivious.

Raising his beer bottle in response to something they just said, Matt kept up the charade that he wasn’t becoming more turned on by the second as he listened to you. The sound of your growing arousal was loud in his ears, and every little shift of your hips only had his jeans tightening more. He could practically feel the restraint you were holding yourself with as you attempted to keep your breathing even, but the little sighs of pleasure escaping your lips were becoming more frequent as time wore on, and it was getting difficult to hold himself back from you.

Matt nearly moaned when he merely placed his hand on your thigh and you suddenly tensed up, grasping the edge of the booth as your breath caught in your throat. Before the moan climbing up your throat could escape and end this whole thing, Matt leaned into you and closed his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss as waves upon waves of pleasure crashed over you as you came. One hand snaked around to the back of his neck and held him close as he kissed you, not only so he could continue his ministrations, but so you could whimper his name like a prayer onto his lips where the others couldn’t see.

“Woah you two, save that for the bedroom!” Foggy said with a chuckle when Matt finally pulled away as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Matt cleared his throat before asking, “Can a man not kiss his girlfriend anymore?”

“You weren’t kissing her, you were eating her face,” Foggy pointed out before walking back to the bar for another round of drinks.

“Have you two done anything for your anniversary yet?” Karen asked with a sparkle in her eye. “Five years, that’s a big deal!”

When Matt didn’t answer immediately nor turn down the setting on the vibrator, you swallowed hard before telling her, “N-not yet. Not exactly. Waiting for the weekend.”

“Ooh, reservations for somewhere, I hope, Matt?” Marci asked, a well-kept eyebrow raising up into her forehead.

“Yes, actually. Although I can’t remember the name of the restaurant right now,” Matt fibbed, his tone of voice almost teasing as he asked if you remembered the name of the place.

“B-babbo Ris-torante. In Gr-eenwich,” you supplied, reaching for Matt’s thigh as you tried to ground yourself and keep your voice steady as your core continued to throb under the ministrations of the toy.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied your flushed face.

“Y-yeah, just something caught in my throat,” you lied, selling it further by taking a long drag of the beer pushed your way as Foggy returned with the drinks.

Luckily the conversation moved on quickly to talk of…something. You couldn’t pay attention to anything except the pleasure beginning to mount in your core again. “Stop that,” came Matt’s husky voice as he leaned over to pretend to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. It was only then that you realized that you had started to grind your hips into the booth so you could chase the high that was threatening to wash over you again any second.

Snapping your eyes out of their trance, you looked over to Matt and realized that he was shifting uncomfortably in the booth, his legs spread wider than he normally would before stilling into a stiff posture. Glancing down, you saw just how aroused he was, the outline of his hard cock in his jeans making you picture what you were in for once you got back home. “Ma-att,” you whispered as you ground your hips into the booth once more before the coil in your abdomen abruptly snapped. One hand found the edge of the booth once more as the other wrapped around Matt’s back as your second orgasm of the night ripped through you, somehow more intense than the first one. Burying your face into Matt’s shoulder, you tried to keep your moans quiet as your body continued grinding into the seat to drag out the feeling for as long as possible.

“Fuck it, we’re leaving,” Matt practically growled as he tasted the fresh round of your arousal in the air. It was almost enough to make him come undone then and there. He made up some excuse about having a headache before pulling you out of the booth and close to his front so he could at least try to hide his painfully hard erection from his friends. “Need to get you home. Need you,” he said as you feigned guiding him out of the bar without his cane unfolded.

Truth be told, you were barely able to walk after two mind shattering orgasms and the continuing vibrations against your clit. Matt called a quick goodbye to Josie before the two of you were out in the less stale air of New York City. You barely made it ten feet before Matt was pulling you into an alleyway and kissing you like his life depended on it. With a slight smirk on your lips, you hooked one leg around the back of his knee and pulled Matt’s hips into yours, grinding into him for a brief second. That second was all it took for him to come undone, letting out an unexpected moan as he rutted his hips into yours as he came. Pleasure sparked through his whole body as he buried his face into your neck and left open mouthed kisses there as he worked through the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “Fuck…” he whispered as his movements stilled a few seconds later. “Need to get you home, Angel. Now.”

“Wha-” you tried, thinking that what had just happened was the end of the sexcapades for the night. That he had gotten his fill after giving you two and having one himself before you even really touched him.

“We’re not done until I say we’re done. I need to taste you. I need to feel you. I need to fuck you,” he said, heated kisses punctuating every sentence.

“Lead the way then,” you told him, a giggle leaving your mouth that was replaced by a quiet moan as the settings on the underwear changed to where it would start off at a low rumble before building up into a delicious vibration. When it hit its peak as you rounded the corner, your knees almost gave out, and you grabbed at the front belt loop of your jeans - whether you meant for it to be as a lifeline or as a means of bringing the toy closer, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you could barely walk and your third orgasm was already building.

Matt made quick work of getting you home, pulling you into the entry hall and slamming his lips into yours as soon as he shut the door. Your jeans were off within seconds and the panties were ripped away and replaced by Matt’s skilled fingers. As he pumped them quickly into you, finding that special spot within your walls, you moaned loudly, the sound shortly followed by a grunt of your name as Matt rutted his hips into your thigh.

Only once you had your third orgasm not even a minute later did Matt move the two of you toward the bedroom. When he had you out of your clothes and laid out on the silk sheets, Matt’s mouth was on your heat, lapping and sucking like a man starved. The vibration of his grunts and groans had you writhing which prompted Matt to hold your hips down as he pulled yet another orgasm out of you.

The transition between Matt eating you out and him fucking you fast and hard was quick to your muddied brain, and it was all you could do to just hold on to his broad shoulders as he thrusted into you.

The pleasure was insurmountable and all encompassing. There was a slightly painful edge to the feeling, and a little voice inside your head was whispering too much. You couldn’t get your brain to form coherent words though, only able to let out a wanton moan into the quiet of the apartment. You weren’t even sure what happened next as your entire body suddenly flooded with a warm flush and your vision went white. Your hearing turned into a sharp ringing sound that was so loud that you barely registered Matt’s call of your name as he came inside of you.

Matt knew there was something wrong the second your arms sagged off of his shoulders and your head lulled back into the pillow without your usual final kiss before he pulled out of you. With his chest heaving still, Matt fell onto his back and pulled you close, running his hand up and down your bare back as he whispered into your hair, “Come on, sweet girl. Come back to me.”

It took a few minutes, but you finally started to come back around, your eyes fluttering back open as you pulled in a deep breath to center yourself again. “There you are,” Matt mumbled, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he held you close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t apologize. Those were the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had,” you interrupted him, a quiet giggle escaping your lips as you snuggled into his chest.

“Same here,” Matt replied, the quiet chuckle rumbling out of his chest soothing under your ear as you continued to gather yourself in his embrace.

“Let's go get you cleaned up,” Matt said after a few peaceful moments of silence.

“Help me up?” you mumbled, your eyes heavy as you curled further into his embrace.

“You got it,” he replied before untangling himself from your limbs and making his way into the bathroom to start up the shower.

“I love you Matthew Murdock, and happy anniversary,” you whispered as he pulled you up and into his arms to help you walk into the bathroom on unsteady legs.

He got you set up in the shower and began massaging soap onto your skin as he told you, “I love you too,” the smile evident in his voice. He would have to find another occasion to bring out those panties again…

this is highly unformatted and barely edited ngl i’m just tryna get this thrown up as a little birthday treat from me to y’all!

likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: NOTHING UNDERNEATH🐟✨

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Day 7 - Nothing Underneath (18+)

Paring: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 947 Content: SMUT!! So this fic is 18+ MDNI (I mean it kids, go read some fluff or angst! This ain't for you!) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: So this is my first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s awkward ; I’m trying to push myself writing wise with this writing challenge. Also I’m so so so sorry in advance for the abrupt ending, I wanted to make sure I got this fic out tonight. Ya girl is tired and has a morning shift to wake up for please forgive me (╥﹏╥)

Matt always feels a twinge of guilt every time he has to leave you alone in the apartment when he does his patrols. 

Especially on a night like tonight.

I mean it was just your typical day. . . excluding the fact that you both are just very horny for each other. 

And it wasn’t like you aren’t usually! It was just neither of you had the chance to fuck each other in a couple days and the tension was starting to get to Matt.

“Red?”

Every small touch you did, every time you kissed him goodbye before his patrol, even the one call you did earlier in the week had him getting hard.

All he wanted to do was stay between your thighs and love on you, was that too much to ask?

“Red!” 

Apparently it was. Matt looks over at Frank who was smirking.

“Go home man, you clearly need to work through some things.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” The white knuckled grip on his billy clubs says otherwise, so Frank just rolls his eyes.

“Uh-huh,” He looks back at the empty lot that they’ve been watching over for the past two hours. They got tipped off that a drug deal was sighted around this block, so they’ve been keeping watch to see where it could potentially lead to.

“Y’know. . .” Frank starts, “I’ve been doing just fine without your special senses for years now,” Matt tilts his head in the direction of a building that was seemingly empty, his lips forming a thin line. 

Frank stills and waits. . . nothing.

“Just go home Red.”

. . . “Fine.”

Frank’s eyebrows shoot up, but his expression remains the same.

“There’s not a lot of activity happening inside the building anyways, call me if that changes.”

“You got it Red.” Frank wouldn’t call tonight, Matt figured as much, but it was still worth it to remind him.

Matt starts heading back to his apartment, leaping and bounding across the different rooftops, trying to make it back home before you head to bed.

You figured the Devil would be out late again tonight, just as he had like the past few days. You couldn’t be upset at Matt, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel frustrated about the circumstances. Almost every time you tried to make a move on Matt he would have to go to work, go patrolling and when he got home you were asleep.

This night was going to be different, you thought. You were determined to fuck him tonight, you just needed to stay awake along enough to do so.

At first you figured it would be good to wear some lingerie to get you in the mood, but after about an hour of just lounging around waiting for Matt to come through the window you could feel your eyes wanting to droop.

You shake your head and decide to just fuck it and not wear any clothes, yeah that’ll do it! You weren’t even sure if he would be able to tell unless he was close enough to you. Smiling, you remove the lingerie you put on and walk back into your shared bedroom. You slip under the covers, completely naked, just scrolling on your phone waiting patiently for your devil to return home. Still a bit bored, but horny, you slowly reach down and start slowly toying with your clit, thinking how Matt would be so much better.

All you wanted was just his mouth to devour you, no maybe have him fuck you til you couldn’t cum anymore. A small moan escapes your lips as you keep playing with your clit, moving your fingers in a circular motion but barely putting any pressure.

Your breathing shallows as you start moving your hand faster and faster, but it just doesn’t satisfy you. Feeling frustrated you remove your hand and roll to your side putting your phone down. Maybe you should just go to sleep, you guys can fuck in the-

“Sweetheart?”

“Matt?” You turn around and see Matt, breathing heavily but with each breath you see him get more and more tense.

“Fuck, are you naked?” His voice lower than before.

“Yes, I just-” He walks over to you and you look away from him, “I dunno-” He shifts you to face him his body right in between your legs, “I thought-”

He kisses you with a searing passion cutting you off. You moan into the kiss grabbing onto his face pulling him closer towards you. You can feel him smile as you reach the base of his neck, gently tugging some of his hair. 

He starts moving down your neck, kissing every exposed part of you “I want you like this every time I come home.” He tells you in between kisses. You breathe out a laugh, seeing that he’s still mostly dressed in his nightly outfit.

“Matty your suit-”

“I don’t care.” He kneels down to go further down your body until his face is at your cunt. He sighs happily as he moves his hand up your body, gently grabbing onto one of your boobs. With his other hand, he inserts two fingers into your dripping cunt, slowly working them in and out.

You moan his name as he continues to work his hands on your body, waves of pleasure making your eyes go hazy. 

He removes his hand from your cunt and takes a taste from his fingers, moaning. You look over at him and notice that he’s managed to remove his pants just enough to start palming his cock with the hand that was just inside you. 

This was going to be a long night, but you both needed it.

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: ""Are you blushing?" + 69🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"Sharing is Caring" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, 🔥)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 4 (Matt very much did not like this only being a drabble so now it's 5600 words, fuck me), I chose to combine the kink and fluff prompts (69 and 'Are you blushing?'). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.6k, Matt fought me and won

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: smutty smut smut, 69 position so oral for both plus face riding, overstimulation, lil bit of prostate stim, multiple orgasms, panty tearing, matt is a MENACE

LOOK AT THIS SMUG MOTHERFUCKER, I HAD A NEAT AND ORDERLY TIMELINE AND A DRABBLE OUTLINE, INSTEAD HE THREW THAT OUT THE WINDOW AND HE HAS FILLED THIS FIC WITH SIN, THE AUDACITY, WHAT TIME IS IT, MATT THIS IS YOUR FAULT

Matt was a giving lover. That much you knew. 

No round of sex with Matt ended without at least one orgasm for you, and often more if he had his way, which he often did, the audacity of that man. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend hours with his head buried between your thighs, skilled tongue lapping hungrily at your sex in a way that made you see stars, and had also led to you tearing a hole in the sheets on more than one occasion. He’d bent you over every last surface in the apartment, and some of the surfaces outside it too. Somehow he always managed to sink himself so deeply inside you that you’d have sworn you felt him in your throat, and that feeling was always followed by him fucking into you with a practiced athleticism that never failed to leave you a melted, howling mess. 

In other words, if sex with you was an artform, your climax was the masterpiece Matt lovingly devoted himself to creating. You’d never been with someone who took such joy in giving you pleasure. But sometimes he was… too giving.

Like now, when what you wanted was to get that thick cock of his into your mouth. 

“Oh, but sweetheart, I’m so hungry,” he purred, a warm, distracting light in his eyes. He was all heat and hungry fire where he stood in the bedroom doorway, a slow, lazy lick of his lips that admittedly had your cunt clenching around nothing. That look meant he had no intention of letting you out of bed for at least the next three hours. The growing outline of his hardening cock against his slacks only confirmed your suspicion as his voice dropped into something low and tempting. “I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day. It’s the only reason I got through work. Let me get my mouth on you, just for a little while. I’ll make it good for you, you know I will. Don’t you want that?”

It was a good offer. A very good offer, and one he was more than capable of fulfilling. You both knew it. But damn it, you also knew what you wanted. 

“No,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms. “I don’t want that.” “Lie,” he murmured. His head cocked, his sightless gaze dropping to your chest, and then lower until they landed somewhere around your hips. His lips slowly curled up into a smirk. “Mm, big lie.” “...Alright, so maybe I always want that,” you admitted reluctantly, biting your lip as you stared down at the outline of your prize, heavy and thick even through the cloth. It was enough to make your mouth water. “But right now I want to suck you off more.” 

And god, did you ever. It was rare for him to let you go down on him, but those memories had become regulars in your fantasies. There was just something about his soft moans and hitched whines when you took him in your mouth, the way he threw his head back and his mouth hung slack, his spine arching when you let the tip of your tongue gently brush that spot below the head of his cock until he fucking begged for you to swallow him down. And if you kept going after he’d already come, kept sucking at his softening cock and pressed your knuckle just right behind his balls, drove his trembling, writhing body carefully into overstimulation, you could even drag something like a second orgasm out of him in short succession. He’d been a melted, purring, barely coherent puddle for a good hour when you'd last managed it and you had every intention of seeing if you couldn’t do it again. 

His brows shot up, as if he were genuinely surprised at just how truthful you’d been, or maybe surprised at just aroused the thought of your mouth on him made you. But those same brows quickly furrowed in open confusion. “You…” His head shifted back and forth, checking again that you were telling the truth. “You want that? Over me going down on you?” “Why is it so hard to believe I want you like you want me?” You snorted, wandering over to him until you could lean in and kiss him playfully. He still seemed puzzled, but he made a little huff of amusement when you did it again, dragging your nails down the front of his shirt. His chest rumbled beneath your touch, a quiet groan of pleasure. “Come on. Share, Matt. Let me have a taste this time.” 

He tipped his head down slowly towards you, clearly tempted. You leaned into him, another rumble leaving him when your lips brushed tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth. You almost had him now. The blatant note of your arousal in the air would only help your case now that you were up close. There was a flush on his cheeks now, and his nostrils flared, taking your scent in when you not-so-subtly rubbed your thighs together. You slowly hooked one finger in his belt, giving it a tug. “Please?” Your desire left you almost breathless, the word hushed and pleading. You weren’t above begging if you needed to. “I need you in my mouth, Matt. You can have me after, can’t you?” “Or…” He drew his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, sucking lightly before letting it go,  his mouth parted and wet. “Or we can both get what we want, with a few adjustments.” Oh. 

Your breath caught, and you went still, something thick and rich as molten honey rolling through your veins. “Why, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head until he could feather his lips over your ear. One of his fingers brushed over your sternum, so light you almost didn’t feel it, before it traced its way gradually up your throat to your cheek, stirring all the tiny hairs in its wake. “Are you blushing?” “No,” you whispered, caught up in visions of what that might look like, feel like, to have his tongue licking its way hungrily into your cunt, all while you took his cock in your mouth and tried your best to make him lose his mind. Would he grow sloppy then, clumsy when you toyed with the head of him? Or would he tap into that focus of his, the two of you in a blatant competition to see who broke first? You wouldn’t deny just how wet the idea made you, but that would also be a lot of sensation for him, especially when you both knew he could come from the taste of your cunt alone. “Or… yes, I… Would that be… too much? Your senses—”

“I’ll be fine. I may have…” He let out a low chuckle, his own cheeks now the lightest bit pink as he cleared his throat. “I may have gone into the office bathroom before I left work, and… taken care of myself. I’d been thinking about my head between your thighs all day. I had to make sure I could get home.”

The visual slammed into you with the force of a truck: Matt with one scarred hand pressed tight over his mouth to stifle his moans while he frantically stroked at his cock. And it was all because he’d spent hours thinking about how he was going to go home, throw you into bed, and find his way right down to your cunt. Your low moan was quickly swallowed up as he caught your chin and tipped your head up so his lips could find yours. The kiss was all teeth and burning heat, fire and fierce need, his stubble rasping against your skin until you felt like you were on fire. One of his hands swept down and behind you, fingers spread wide as he groped roughly, greedily against your ass. He used that same grip to haul you forward into him, making you whine when his hips ground into yours, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can smell you, how wet you are. Tell me you want that, sweetheart. Tell me—” “God yes, please, please, Matt.”

You didn’t bother to keep track of where your clothes fell as you both stumbled your way into the bedroom, neither of you willing to pull your hands and mouths off each other long enough to figure that out. You managed to get everything off but your panties by the time you neared the bed, and you fully intended to slide those off, too, but you were distracted by the pleasure of Matt’s mouth as he determinedly nipped and licked at the skin of your throat, blatantly drinking the pheromones from your skin. Fortunately, Matt was a bit less distracted.

The tearing of fabric rang out, and then Matt’s fingers slipped between your soaked folds, stroking three fingers eagerly along your slit until you gasped out his name. 

“Oops,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re paying for those,” you grumbled. “Happily.” He side stepped around you, and by the time you’d turned he was already on the bed,  rolling onto his back and tipping his head back in clear expectation. Then he brought his wet, gleaming fingers up to his mouth, inhaling intently as he rubbed his fingers together. The reaction was immediate: a fierce groan, his other hand shooting down to wrap tightly around his cock as his hips bucked. 

“Shit,” you whispered, absolutely mesmerized as he took another greedy breath, a creeping flush spreading across his pale skin. He may have come an hour or so ago, but his cock already looked achingly hard, the whole of it flushed dark and red, a decadent droplet of precum beading at the tip. He was an absolute vision, all of that strength and power, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laid out like a meal for you, this affected just by the thought, the scent of your arousal. It lit a fire in you, and Matt must have sensed it, because he let out a growl before giving in and shoving his fingers into his mouth. His eyes snapped shut, a loud moan tearing through him. His other hand started to stroke quickly at his cock, firm drives up with a smooth sweep of his palm over the head before sliding back down, all as he sucked the taste of you eagerly from his fingers, unwilling to lose even a single drop. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. “Holy shit, you’re trying to kill me.” “Get up here and ride my face, sweetheart,” he grit out, shifting to let his thumb rub against the wet head of his cock. A delicious shiver ran through him, and he rolled his head on the pillow to face you. There was something far darker in his eyes, then, whispers of the Devil, of merciless rain on hard city streets. “Do it before I drag you up here myself, because I’m not going to fucking care if you can reach my cock when I do.”

It was the only invitation you needed, and you scrambled up onto the bed before he could change his mind. You had no intention of missing the opportunity he’d given you. 

You hit another brief snag, however, once you’d crawled over to him. You’d ridden his face before, but that had always been with you facing the headboard or the arm of the couch. This required the opposite angle. After a moment’s consideration, one that ended quickly when Matt growled a warning, you muttered a quiet, “fuck it,” and did a half turn, throwing your leg quickly over him so you had a knee on either side of his shoulders. Then you walked back a step or two on your knees, Matt’s free hand taking the meat of your thigh in his grip. It was difficult to figure out just where you needed to be to get the angle right. All you could see from this angle was his body stretched out like a long, open road before you, his other hand still stroking roughly at his cock, his knees bent, feet braced so he could rut lazily up into his grip. You didn’t really know where to put your hands, so you settled for placing them against the broad line of his chest, using them to brace yourself as you tentatively adjusted.

Matt, however, had lost his patience. 

With a snarl, he let go of his cock. Both his hands caught your hips, and with one hard yank he wrenched you down, burying his mouth against your pussy as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 

You both let out a sharp moan, Matt’s far more muffled than yours. There was no gentleness now, no parting you with his fingers to tease you with the tip of his tongue before settling in. Instead, it was something ravenous and filthy, animalistic, Matt’s mouth open wide as he licked and sucked at your folds and slit, greedily drinking up every last drop of your arousal he could find. For a moment you forgot what your plan had been. Your head fell to rest against his abdomen, your lips parted on a whine as Matt devoured your slick with heavy grunts and rumbles of approval, your hips starting to rock against his mouth. He was eating at you with everything in him, no thought given to things like air, based on his hitched breathing and muffled groans. He’d told you once, lips curled into a smirk, his chin still wet with your arousal, that if he died between your thighs, well, he’d consider that death a victorious one. 

“Mm—Matt, oh god, please,” you whimpered, your fingers curling against his skin, red lines left in your wake.

 Apparently satisfied that he’d taken in everything he could get, Matt tipped his head down just a hair, using his grip on your hips to adjust you until his tongue found your clit. With a purr, he began to lap warmly, steadily at it, over and over and over again, every now and then pursing his lips to kiss at it with a fond affection that was almost tender. The attention to your clit made your eyes flutter shut, quiet whimpers escaping you with each pass of his tongue, your body clenching in want. At the fresh trickle of wetness, Matt groaned in delight. “Taste so good, sweetheart, all mine,” he slurred warmly, syllables thick and sounding almost drugged, before his tongue found you again, falling right back into his aphrodisiac of choice. As he did, his body began to shift beneath you, before settling into a steady rocking. Startled, your eyes fluttered open, and you glanced down his body. What you saw made your mouth fall slack.

Matt had begun to roll his hips, rutting up in lazy waves. At first you thought it might be an invitation, a reminder, but as you watched you quickly realized what he was doing. With every flex and buck of his hips, he managed to rub his cock against his abdomen, just a little. You could already see the smears of precum pooling in the lines and grooves of flexing muscle, and that only made each successful contact smoother, Matt’s moans against your cunt growing stuttered and hoarse. It likely wouldn’t have been enough sensation for anyone else, but for Matt and his senses, it was just enough to drive him further upwards, his thick thighs starting to tremble. Hell, he was probably enjoying it, considering how he liked to tease himself. 

Fortunately, it was also a reminder of what you’d wanted to do. 

You quickly stretched out above him, headed for your goal. Your hips shifted just a little as you did, and Matt let out a low, possessive growl, his hands tightening on your hips in a warning. He didn’t like the idea that you might pull away before he was done, you had a feeling.

“Relax.” You choked out a shaky laugh, lowering your head to kiss fondly at the crest of his hip. Your affection softened his growl to a gentler, contented groan. “Just-just trying to get to you.” He seemed soothed by that, at least. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t listening, far too focused on your cunt to really hear you. Either way it didn’t matter, because you’d finally maneuvered yourself to where you’d wanted to be. You braced one hand shakily on his thigh, some of your weight settling down on top of him. His chest rose and fell on a happy sigh beneath you, more than happy to have you sprawled out over him. It also meant his cock was now in range of your mouth. 

It was even more tantalizing up close, flushed, wet, and practically begging for your attention even if Matt’s mouth was otherwise occupied. You eagerly caught the base of it, wrapping your fingers tight around it. Beneath you he let out a grunt, his tongue faltering against your clit. You had no interest in waiting any longer, so without a second’s hesitation you dipped your head and stuck out your tongue, catching one of the drops of precum rolling down the shaft. From there you rose with one long drag along his length, following that damp trail back up to his tip like you might a melting drop of ice cream. The moment your tongue swept over the head of Matt’s cock, he let out a startled moan, one that morphed into a hoarse cry when you lapped warmly at his slit, chasing the taste of him, taking in every fresh drop that welled up beneath your attention. It had been far too long since you’d gotten to taste him like this, bitter and salty in equal measure, the scent of musk and sex so much stronger here.

“God,” he choked out, squirming beneath you, his hands practically clawing at your hips. His head dropped back and away from your cunt as he gasped up to the ceiling, breath hitching on a high moan as the strokes of your tongue grew more firm. “Ah-ah! Your mouth, sweetheart, I need it, just—”

Time to see if you could break him before he broke you.

You dropped your mouth open wide before starting to slide him into your mouth, using your hand at his base to angle him and make it a little easier. But easier was… relative. 

Shit, you thought with a low moan, one that had Matt crying out behind you. He was so fucking thick, broad enough that you felt a faint ache in your jaw, saliva already leaking out past the corners of your mouth to drip down his length. There was no graceful way to swallow him down, but the sensation of your saliva rolling down his shaft, your stifled huffs through your nose as you slowly worked your way down his cock had him absolutely wrecked. His body trembled beneath you, his hips jerking in an only barely aborted attempt to thrust up into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. He actually whined when you gave him your first little suck, and those whines only grew in number as you did it again, his panting music to your ears, so wet you were practically dripping down onto him. And maybe you really had, because before you could blink, he’d yanked your hips back down. This time, however, he brought his hands around so he could use his thumbs to part your body for him. With a wild moan, he’d buried his mouth against your slit, licking hotly at your opening over and over until he’d managed to worm his tongue inside you.

Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his tongue lapping eagerly at your inner walls, his chin grinding roughly against your clit. He’d burrowed in so hard against you it was if were intent on drowning, on latching onto you and never letting go. The angle was perfect, and you found yourself grinding down instinctively against his face, riding his tongue inside you and the stubbled texture of his chin, chasing your pleasure just as you were seeking his. His delighted moan as you started to use him the way he wanted was so muffled you swore he shouldn’t have been able to breathe, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, whining around the length of him in your mouth as he slurped deeper, your thighs locking up around his head, his skin slick with you. He was dangerously close to coming based on the way his cock had started to throb against your tongue, and you weren’t much further behind, but he was clearly aiming to get you there first.

No.

No, you wanted to ruin him too.  Focus, just a little more. You clumsily lifted your head halfway up before skating back down to meet your hand around his base. Neither of you were coordinated enough to make this last much longer, too distracted by the rising waves of pleasure, but that didn’t matter. You knew his body. You could outlast him, by a few seconds at least. But to do that, you’d need one more thing. So, determined to win, you quickly worked your free hand down past his cock, pausing to knead briefly at his sac just for the way it made him moan roughly against your cunt before you drifted past it. You didn’t slide your fingers inside him—something you both hadn’t tried quite yet—but you did curl one finger and press your knuckle up gently just behind his balls, indirect pressure against that spot deep inside him. 

His back arched so sharply and suddenly beneath you he almost managed to throw you off, and his choked gasp hit air as he threw his head back. With a shaky whine, he ground down desperately against your finger before snapping his hips up, clearly torn between the wet suction of your mouth around his cock and the firm pressure against his prostate. But unlike last time he’d thrown his head back, this time you followed his mouth with your hips. You were too close to that edge now to go without it, especially not with the noises he was making—whimpers and broken moans, slurred pleas—so you tried desperately to find his lips again, grinding down against his face. And though you were reluctant to let him go, you still managed to tear your mouth off his cock just long enough to gasp out, “Fuck, Matt, please!” 

Your begging managed to drag him up out of his haze just enough that he began to sloppily hunt for your clit, licking at your cunt until he finally found it, closing his lips around it just as you did the same to the head of his cock. Two warm pulls of your mouth to match his, and then with one more shove of your finger against that spot inside him, he cried out and came hard into your mouth in salty, bitter waves that tasted like fucking satisfaction. His hoarse moans, desperate and so very needy pushed you the rest of the way. Matt’s tongue lapped warmly against your clit, and just like that you joined him in falling over the edge, your body tightening and releasing in a rolling tide of pleasure that left you floating. He quickly shoved his mouth against your slit, grunting as he greedily drank down everything your body gave him. 

You thought you were done, then, your chest heaving, your thighs shaking as the waves began to ease into aftershocks. But then Matt nuzzled roughly at your clit, his tongue brushing over it almost curiously. Then he moaned, dragging your hips back down. “Don’t stop,” he rasped hoarsely, yanking your hips back down. Just like that, his mouth was on your clit again, which was great except that you still hadn’t quite finished the last orgasm. The sudden rush of overstimulation before you could fully come down left you shaking, clawing wildly at him, but your squirming got you nowhere, your hips firmly held in an iron grip.

Don’t stop. 

There wasn’t much you could do but follow the instruction. 

You moaned and began to suck clumsily at him, the softness of his cock cradled gently on your tongue. The noise he let out was strangled and hoarse, almost pained, because this had to be too much for him, it had to be, and yet… he couldn’t resist starting to rock up instinctively against your mouth, a broken whimper breathed against your cunt when you managed to probe your tongue against the tip of him. You knew, distantly, remembered that you’d had this plan: if you did this fast enough, did this just right, using his senses to your benefit, you could make him come again. And, well, it had helped before, so you shifted and rolled your finger, grinding hard against that spot inside him in steady waves, sucking harder at his cock just for the way it made him writhe. His head fell back once again, his hands dropping away from you to fist in the sheets, but you didn’t care, your goal in sight. One of these days you were going to get your fingers inside him to see what noises he made then, and just to taunt him, you hooked and curled your fingers against his soft skin, your message clear. 

You weren’t sure who was more startled when he came—you, or him—but  either way, he did, his cock only half-hard at best as he snapped his hips up, his body locking up as he spilled into your mouth. He made a sound you’d never heard from him before, one part shout and one part a high, hitching moan, the sounds ebbing and flowing with each jagged wave of pleasure you dragged him through, almost enough to hide the sound of tearing fabric. There wasn’t much left for his body to give, granted, but you still accepted those few drops anyway, swallowing them down with a satisfied moan as you milked him dry, massaging your fingers against him to drag it out. You didn’t stop until his sounds began to sound pained, and even then it was a struggle. You had to force yourself to lift your head, sitting back against his chest. But even that much pressure against your clit made you whimper, your body shaking, because despite the overstimulation, as predicted he’d managed to shove you up far enough again that you were hanging right on the edge again, orgasm just a breath away.

“Matt,” you choked out, not even sure what it was you needed—his hand maybe, or even just for him to hold still so you could ride some part of him. One glance over your shoulder, however, let you unsure of what he might be able to give. 

Matt’s head was still thrown back on the pillow, his mouth hanging open as he panted, hair damp and sticking up in every direction. His eyes were glazed over and dark, absent any real awareness or thought. You knew that look, one he got when you’d really managed to fuck him senseless or leave him wrecked. He was out of it, his senses momentarily overloaded, out of order, come back later. You quickly pulled yourself off of him, just in case your weight over him had been unpleasant. He’d need some time, but fortunately, sitting here and staring at what you’d done—Matt Murdock, fucked out and drunk off your body—would be just the sort of visual you needed as you took care of yourself. You dropped one hand, sliding it between your legs until you could circle your clit with your fingertips, your lips parting on a satisfied moan. It wasn’t as good as Matt, but it was good enough.

Or… that’s what you thought you’d do, until Matt’s head snapped in your direction. His hand darted up, grabbing for you.

Except that he missed, his hand snatching at the empty air about two inches to your left.

“Matt,” you huffed shakily, using your other hand to take his. He probably just wanted to stay close, he usually did when you got him like this. “I’m-I’m fine, just, unh, gonna fini—Matt!” 

Your hand brushing against his had apparently been the compass he needed, because you abruptly found yourself shoved back onto the bed on your back with a grunt. He was on his hands and knees before you could blink, scrambling and groping around the bed to feel out how you’d fallen, his eyes burning. The moment he made contact with you again, he shoved his head forward with a growl, mouthing at you, licking, biting at whatever skin he could find, which happened to be your ribs, the nip of his teeth sharp enough to make you cry out. You knew that you knew you’d have a mark there tomorrow, one to join the bruises on your hip. But it clearly wasn’t the part of you he’d been aiming for, and he snarled in clear frustration, swinging his head back and forth in a failed attempt to orient before he managed to find your hips with his hands. Your own hands wound up tangled in his hair as he dragged himself roughly over your legs, and fuck, if he was offering, you were happy to take it. You lifted up your hips, tugging at his hair to direct him. “Here!” you gasped, pushing his head down between your thighs. “Here, Matt, right—”

He buried his face sloppily against your cunt again, not a hint of shame or hesitation in him. And his furious, rough lapping at your clit was exactly what you needed. The sound you made was raw and torn, almost a shriek as you suddenly got the stimulation you’d been looking for, your body tightening in rapid waves beneath his mouth. He caught your clit between his lips, growled, and sucked hard enough to have you seeing stars. That was it for you, your back arching as you fisted your hands tightly in his hair and came across his tongue, a flood of wetness drenching his face. With every pulsing wave of pleasure, he let out a satisfied little rumble, sucking in time with the rhythm of your body, dragging your orgasm out until the world burned white. The moment those waves began to ebb, he switched to broad flat licks along the entire length of your cunt, mindlessly drinking up every last drop, his eyes falling half closed in apparent bliss. 

Which was nice. Until your body started to request a break. 

“Matt,” you choked out, trying to shift away. He instinctively followed, blearily keeping his mouth latched onto your cunt, the pressure on your clit almost painful now. “Matt, that’s—fuck—I need a break, sweetheart, please! Matt!”

The sharp call of his name seemed to snap him out of it, and he finally let you go with a groan. He didn’t get very far, though, immediately tipping his head sideways until it landed on your thigh with a soft thump.  

You let yourself breathe for a minute, twitching now and then when an aftershock rolled through you. When you were feeling a little more able to breathe, you finally lifted your head to glance at him. “That,” you wheezed, “was… we need to do that again. But in… in a while.”

He blinked slowly at you, blissed out and lazy as a lion who’d just had a meal. He hadn’t moved from your thigh, his face still absolutely drenched. Then he grinned, and the expression was so absolutely, drunkenly smug that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I take it you’re ok, then?” You snorted, reaching down to stroke your fingers down his wet cheek. 

He blinked at you again, and there was a brief delay before his head turned and he nudged affectionately at your hand. Sometimes when his senses got too overloaded after sex, he needed a few minutes without touch to come down. This time, however, it seemed like touch was what he needed. 

“You wanna come up here and listen to my heartbeat until your senses are all back online?”

He seemed to think that over for a minute before he slowly started to drag himself up your body. He didn’t even bother to lift his head from you, simply dragging it along your skin as if he were loathe to lose the sensation of you against him. He only ran into a slight hiccup when he bumped into your breasts. He nosed around for a second, huffing briefly, before he found the space between them and continued on. “You’re drunk as hell,” you choked out a laugh, as he rubbed his ear fondly back and forth over your sternum, hunting for whatever spot sounded best. “You’re pussy drunk. God, I love you.” He finally selected his spot on your chest, his head dropping. The rest of his body followed, as he settled down on top of you with a groan of satisfaction. Then he rumbled out a contented sigh as you got your fingers in his hair, stroking through the sweat-soaked strands. One of his hands fumbled its way down to your hip, where he began to knead clumsily at it, your affections very much returned. “Mhm. Love you, too.” 

“Little more coherent?” “Mm. You taste good.” “So do you. Don’t make me wait so long to get my mouth on you again.”

“Mhm,” he sighed. He absently licked his lips, before purring quietly, his eyes falling shut. “I promise. We’ll share.”

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: FLOWER CROWNS 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"A Bit Of Sunshine" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

And here we are on Day 2 of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day Two, I chose the fluff prompt: Flower Crowns. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 985

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: none, just some sweetness

It was rare that he found time to simply relax.

And yet here he was with you. The air was pleasantly warm, a whisper against his skin from the cool breeze faintly tinged with salt from the sea, and the shade from the massive oak tree above kept the worst of the sun’s rays from reaching him. The familiar sounds of the park—squealing children, laughing couples, bees buzzing away beneath a chorus of birdsong and rustling leaves—had been a welcome respite from the blaring sirens and furious car horns, though he’d have been able to hear those, too, if he’d concentrated hard enough. But in a brief moment of peace, he’d allowed himself to reel his focus back in, his hypervigilance easing until he was just… here. 

Here, in this case, referred to the two of you together atop a blanket under a tree in the park, the chosen location of your Saturday date. You’d settled with your back against the tree, your legs stretched out easily in front of you. It hadn’t been long before the warmth and fresh air had drawn him into an unusual state of lethargic relaxation, and at your encouragement, he’d wound up sprawled out next to you, his head in your lap, his eyes closed and his hands folded on his chest. You’d seemed to recognize the moment for what it was, too. Your fingers had quickly found their way often to his hair, stroking fondly through the strands, nails against his scalp a sensation that occasionally made him purr or hum, rolling his head into your touch. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but that didn’t seem to matter. Sometimes you both talked, and sometimes instead you lapsed into a pleasant quiet, the two of you simply enjoying the break from all the chaos and stress so common in your life together.  Though your hands had been absent from his hair for a little while now, instead working steadily away at some sort of mystery project above him. He wasn’t sure what it was. He’d have to extend his senses to find out, and for now, he was choosing to trust you while he let go of his usual control. 

Still, the repeated shift of you as you reached for something beside the blanket, the little snap as you pulled something from the grass over and over, adding it to whatever you were working on, finally stirred his curiosity.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, fighting back a yawn as he adjusted his head on your lap, tipping it towards yours. It wasn’t like he could see you, but he liked to make sure you knew he was listening.

“Making you something.” You let out a hum, something soft and light falling from whatever you held in your hands to land on his cheek. He didn’t bother to move it. It was soft enough, whatever it was, and delicately scented—faint traces of cut grass and something vaguely sweet, tinged with musk and the scent of your skin where you’d touched it. Even without his focus firmly in hand, the sensory weight of it made his nose twitch as he took it in. Fortunately, the smell wasn’t unpleasant, especially when mingled with yours around him, with the scent of grass and earth, oak leaves and sea breeze and sugary vanilla from the ice cream cart a few hundred yards away. Somehow, he had a feeling the unique mixture would stay with him, a memory shortcut back to the feeling of this moment, so he spent a long moment breathing it in, letting it imprint itself on his mind. These brief moments of joy, of perfection were something he held onto as tightly as he could, a shield for his heart when his thoughts grew dark and the world seemed intent on stripping all the good from his life like meat from the bone. 

“There,” you said happily, the shape of your smile sunlight on his skin. “All done. Hold still.”

You shifted a little above him, lifting his slack head just a touch, and a moment later you settled something onto his head, a circular loop of sensation that lightly pressed down against his hair, tickling, velvet-soft whispers of textures against his forehead. The scent of cut grass and sweetness grew stronger with its presence, and he lazily blinked his eyes open, shifting his gaze towards where he knew your face lay.  

“Oh, you need to let me get a picture before you take that off. My flower king.” You sighed, before leaning down to kiss him lightly. You lifted your head again, tilting your head in the way he’d come to learn meant you were taking him in, trying to ensure you would remember this later, just as he had a moment ago with the scents around him. “Your eyes with the yellow dandelions and your hair is just beautiful. You look happy.” 

And the truth in your heart when you said it just… 

“Maybe I am happy.” He leaned into your hand when you ran it down his cheek, scanning lovingly around the sensory shape of you, all gentle whispers of fire and soft sensation. “And what about you, sweetheart?”

“I’m with you,” you said softly, lifting up one of his scarred, battered hands. You brought it up to your mouth, letting his fingers trace your smile before you turned it and kissed the woven bands of scar tissue on his knuckles. “So yeah. I’m happy. Now sit up for me for a minute. I want to get a picture of us, flower crown included.”

That picture found its way onto his desk a few days later. 

He couldn’t see it, of course. 

But the cut dandelions you often left beside the picture were quick to bring the memory back, as did every last determined bloom he found growing up stubbornly through the cracks of his city.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: SOMNOPHILIA 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”