( no cw bc im lazy 😬 heavyyyyyy petplay + praise kink)
i like to think that inexperienced!dex is v vocal when he’s eating you out.
his mouth is all sloppy and wet like a dog drinking from a water bowl. he’s getting encouraged by your lewd noises and comments; ‘right there..please baby keep going’ you’d breathe out lowly.
dex loved when your voice got all breathless and quiet. in his mind, it meant he was being a good boy.
speaking of which, he’s been hoping you’d call him that. he does any and everything he can to get that specific piece of praise out of you.
‘you’re doing so good’ god he looked so pathetic when he heard that.
‘mmphm’ he’d whine grinding against the mattress beneath him. he was so close to cumming just from pleasuring you.
you twitched under his reckless mouth while he mumbled more incoherent comments about how good he is for you—‘im being so good, eating your pussy for you. please tell me im being good.’
‘you are, you’re being-nghohfuck,’ you started as his nose nudged that spot you so desperately wanted him at.
‘tell me,’ after sucking your achy bud ‘please, tell me im being your good boy’.
he only ever wanted to make you feel good, he was new to alot of things and anything he’d done right, he’d want praise for.
before you could speak again, dex attacked your clit once more. this time with the hopes of getting his long awaited treat.
‘oh fuck, you’re such a good boy for me, dex.’ was the last thing said prior to you cumming in his mouth.
two treats in one night, he must’ve been a reallyy good boy.
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Do you have any fluffy headcanons for Shane? Bbgirl is an asshole but I feel like its a thin facade.
of course i do, honey!!!
he obviously moved to the woods to get away from the unpleasant side of human nature, but as soon as he meets you, he finds his gruff exterior hard to keep up:
if you don't braid your hair before you sleep, he gently tries to untangle some small knots without waking you up as a form of mindfulness
you tend to fall asleep before him, so he watches the rise and fall of your chest like guided meditation to relax his mind
when he finally falls asleep, he subconsciously wraps his arms around you, no matter how much he claims to dislike physical contact when he's awake
he always makes sure that you're fed first, he offers food to you before the thought of eating himself even materialises in his mind
he wants to gives you a pea shooter (definitely at least teaches you how to shoot one) so that you can protect yourself in the worst possible case that you're separated from him, but he cradles you in his arms if you're uncomfortable with guns or just can't get the grip of accurately using one
he whispers words of affirmation in your ear: "you'll get the hang of it, sweet thing", "don't worry, it's not as hard as it seems at first. i know you can do it."; or "baby, i just wanna know you're safe if i'm ever away"; or "don't cry, sweetheart. i won't make you if you don't want to."
if he notices that you're shoulders are tense for literally any reason, he so sweetly tries to give you a massage (it almost always feels like he's trying to dislocate your shoulders instead of relax them)
he always tries to discourage you from drinking too much on a night out so that you don't feel like shit in the morning—but if you do, he always has painkillers and a bottle of water to try and help
he's tried to coax you into watching him hunt deer. if you're into it, he gets excited to bond with you over something new. if it upsets you, he holds you in his arms until you feel at ease again
if he ever raises his voice at you (out of frustration with something you did or at something else unrelated to you), he sobers up immediately and apologised with kisses all over your face and limbs. the last thing he wants is for you to he frightened with him
he always wants you within two feet of him. he tells you it's because of "stranger danger" and predator animals, but if he ever gets drunk enough, he lets slip that he feels more at ease when you're within arms reach
in his heart of hearts, he knows that his worst nightmare is knowing that he could ever be the origin of your discomfort. through his occasionally tender actions, few and far between, you know this too
i hope this is what you wanted, anon!!! also feel free to claim an emoji in case you want to send another request :)
SMUT mdni, Dex who will absolutely perish if he doesn’t eat ur pussy as soon as he gets home!!!!! Not proofread yet. Just filth <3
Dex needs more than the average person. Not in terms of material possessions, in fact it’s easier for him to not have any ties to physical things, items, objects because his life is so fucking far from average. From normal. Or sane. Or rational.
But when he unlocks your apartment door with shaky hands, a beaten, worn body and a pounding head - he needs. He wants. He desires. He develops a life or death, imperative sense of desperation that feels like it’s trying to claw its way through his stomach and leech his vitality from his veins.
He can’t think. Won’t be able to until he sees you.
You’re in the quaint, homey kitchen making tea and you’ve got a shirt of his on that’s so old it’s tattered on the shoulders, holes in the back and he didn’t think he could want to consume a person, have them glued to him or inside his skin as much as he wants you.
The sun has already set outside and everything in the layout is a soft, muted blue that feels safe. Comfortable. You don’t need the lamp on but you also know your way around enough to not scold yourself with the electric kettle.
You set the mug down as the door locks, and he’s just a dark, hulking mass of muscle in the doorway - turning his body to look at you. His big eyes catch in the twilight peeking through the blinds, and they’re watery, pleading, weak.
You move towards each other instantly. You know that questions won’t help. But he cups your face, presses a kiss so shaky and so sweet and so hard against your mouth that you gasp.
“Dex, baby, hey.” You whisper it between kisses, between laps of his tongue. It’s not aggressive, no, it’s beseeching. Like he’d die if he didn’t feel your mouth, your figure against his rigid body right then and there.
“Please, please let me have this.” his voice is just an octave higher than usual, a cry somewhere in the back of his throat.
You don’t understand at first, worried that something terrible has happened, is going to happen because of the rawness and trembling in his usually expertly steady hands.
And then he’s sinking lower, lower, lower - until you’re peering down at his wet lashes instead of up and his red rimmed waterline. And his palms are braced on your hips, squeezing with just enough force to feel the flesh between his fingers.
And then your big shirt is being lifted just enough, and you can’t see the shadow of his angular face anymore despite feeling his presence.
It’s one of those feelings that don’t register at first, cause his mouth is so hot and wet and you’re not expecting it - and the cotton of your panties is soaked within seconds from his spit and -
Oh.
Your knees threaten to buckle but he’s got you in a firm, steady hold. You forget to part your thighs so his saliva is getting all in between them from the heavy licks of his tongue against your covered slit.
He’s groaning against you and the sound hums against your most private parts. Your body reacts for you, spreading your legs and he lets out this sigh of intense relief. Relief that you’re giving him this.
It’s concerning really, or would be to anyone else but you - how intense and desperate he’s mouthing at your pussy but you only know the Dex that is all consuming, all devouring, all devotion.
Your fingers find his scalp when your head lolls back, sweaty strands damp in your hold.
“Mmm, more.” He’s talking to himself, to you, to the bond you both have. He doesn’t take your panties off, no. He pulls them to the side so roughly you’re surprised they don’t rip.
“Oh god, Dex.” You cry it out softly into the dark room when you feel his hot mouth connect with your naked sex.
Scruff burns your thighs, and you welcome it.
His nose bumps your clit while his tongue searches for your opening, collecting whatever slick he can before moving back up to suckle on your bud. You bring one hand up to your mouth and press the back of it against your lips to muffle a sound you know you have no reason to muffle.
But it’s too much, looking down and seeing his head move around, swiveling and then the fucking sounds of him eating you are so lewd, so loud in the otherwise quiet. His big shoulders even shake a little from how bad he wants it.
“So good, so good,” he’s an unrecognizable voice pressed against your slit, voice higher than usual but rough with an edge of unwavering desire.
You feel a lack of contact for a split second, and your gaze drops from the ceiling to his pretty face between your legs, staring up at you with a wet mouth and chin and messy hair and lashes fanning against his high cheekbones.
“Thankyou. Thankyou.” The gratitude seeps from his tone, but his appearance is fleeting before he’s getting lost between your legs again.
He feels the shake in your knees, takes both hands and plants them firmly against your ass. This way he can not only keep you steady, but he can use his strength to pull you further against his tongue.
“Ohhhh, feels s-sooo good Dex, oh fuck.”
He groans, loudly, at this. The praise makes him float, makes him dizzy even. It makes him work harder, too.
You’re moving, just a little to the right so that he can press your back against the kitchen counter - give you, and his mouth more stability.
“Mm, mmm, mmm.” He groans in increments, no longer sporadic but concise, controlled, a little aggressive in a way that tells you he’s coming back down to earth by the heady flavor of you on his hot tongue and is now concentrated on a singular mission. He needs to make you finish on his mouth.
He will.
His left had slides down from your ass to the back of your thigh, and he cups the back of your knee before hiking it over his big shoulder. You grip the edge of the counter because you’re not sure what else to do - how else to ground yourself
He makes sure that when he lets go you’re not gonna topple over, grips your ankle that’s on the ground and gives it a squeeze just to make sure.
And then his other hand is between your legs, two long and thick fingers spreading open your labia and pressing themselves into your spongy heat.
Your sounds are incoherent, cause he pushes them all the way in to the second knuckle, and then all the way out like he’s fucking you with his dick and not digits. All while he suckles your clit, nose pressed harshly against your pubic mound.
His cock is hard in his suit, throbbing against the fabric and begging to be freed. But he likes the torture, likes feeling himself leak into his briefs and telling himself he cannot touch himself until you finish.
But then he starts those come here motions that elicit more squelchy, wet noises and he knows you won’t be long. You’re squirming like you’re caught in a trap and repeating his name over and over and over and he can’t stop. His jaw aches and he loves it.
You tug at his hair again, and he feels your walls squeezing around his knuckles - your lower belly is tight and everything inside of you is too.
“Unnnfff, Dex, Dex, o’mygod fuck fuck fuck.”
It doesn’t even start anywhere in particular, it crashes down on you all at once. Your release rips through you viciously, and this is why he pressed you against the counter cause he needed you to not fall to the floor when you came. He knew you’d cum hard.
And it’s not stopping, it’s coming in harsh waves and your legs shake like a leaf in a terrible storm. You try to hide your face in your arms, to grip his hair or pull yourself off of him, but he’s unrelenting.
“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s it sweetheart.” He’s a low voice between your legs, still pumping his fingers and reveling in the fact that you’ve soaked his hand and the cloth covering his thick forearm.
And the fact that he can feel you pulsating against his tongue, your clit swollen and begging for mercy and jumping with every heartbeat and every lick.
“I can’t I can’t, please Dex.”
He doesn’t listen all the way, he starts kissing it like it’s your mouth. Soft, slow, tender. Like he’s got something to prove it, like he’s saying sorry for all the mess. He pulls his fingers out, and you finally peer down through bleary eyes to watch him suck them dry - licking between the webs of his fingers and the bulge of his knuckles.
Your thighs tremble again.
He kisses your mound, before he stabilizes you both with his hands on your waist, coming to full height.
You’re panting, and he’s got the dopiest, happiest smile spreading across his face like a Cheshire Cat. The lower half of his face is soaked.
“You still with me, baby?” The sound of his voice makes your belly feel warm again. You reach out, shaking hands on broad shoulders.
He moves closer till your bodies are pressed together, his taut muscle against your softness, forehead against yours and light eyes eclipsed by blown out pupils.
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the uzui clan has, for generations, been full of domineering men. they had survived the most intense training and didn't miss a chance to boast about it. alongside that, they were openly supportive of the ideology of multiple spouses. overall, the clan had very distinct lifestyles and beliefs, which would be seen as anything but normal. that being said, you never anticipated becoming entangled with one of them.
sure, tengen and his wives weren't exactly subtle with their hints. he would be overly touchy with you compared to the other hashiras, always using any small excuse to get his hands on you. compliments from him were seemingly always present regardless of the event. he constantly mentioned how your working regime was showing in your biceps and how your hair looked nice in the morning light; he even went as far as to say how your sharp eyes must make your partners weak. had he not already been married, you probably would've guessed sooner that he was flirting; instead, you dismissed it for kindness on his end.
his wives weren't all that great at hiding their motives either. they always so happened to have an extra lunch for you whenever they passed by to eat with uzui. they’d also stop to make conversation if you bumped into each other, mentioning how you have yet to give them a visit at their estate, like how they've been asking you to for months. again, though it was weird, you viewed it as them just being extremely cordial with you.
it took for tengen to one day come up to you and tell it to you directly for the message to finally get across. "me and my wives are interested in trying something out with you," is how he started, a very noticeable blush on his face and a slight quiver in his voice accompanying it. "we'd appreciate if you passed by one of these days so we can talk about it more in-depth."
you were extremely puzzled by their undying need for you to go to their residence. it was starting to get mildly concerning how persistent they were about the matter. though still mildly confused on what he and his spouses had planned, you agreed to go by with a small "ok."
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"ah! (m/n) s-slow down," was all tengen could get out while you continued drilling into him. it had been 2 hours since you and the uzui families "session" had started, and you weren't letting up on him whatsoever.
you had him on his hands and knees, one arm on the floor to support himself while the other was being pulled back by you to fuck him harder. every few seconds a new sound would leave his mouth as you kept prodding at his prostate with your dick.
if he hadn't already came four times, he would've been saying something slick, but after the third orgasm, all he could coherently muster out were pleas asking you to ease up on him. being fucked into overstimulation for a consecutive third time had absolutely shattered his nerve endings.
"quit being so dramatic," is what you'd hear from the right side of the room, hinatsuru keeping a stern gaze on her husband. "take it like a man, and don't whine."
"well that's going to be hard for him," makio chuckled out, pointing an accusing finger at tengen, "he's barely been able to keep himself up since (m/n) put him on all fours." she got closer to tengens face, leveling eye to eye with the man. his body rocked with every thrust, repeatedly jolting him forward and inches from his wife's face. "you're more pathetic than I thought you'd be when getting claimed."
the words should've caused some sort of retort out of him, but he didn't say anything. makio was right; he was acting pathetic. being arched up for you, shaking and pleading for you to slow down, went against everything his wives knew him as when they were intimate. all it took was a few hours of being penetrated by you for his whole sex demeanor to change, now being sculpted into your personal cocksleeve.
"don't be so mean, makio," came from the other side of the room. suma crept closer as well, taking her place beside makio. she cupped uzui’s face, making him look at her. "I personally think he looks adorable while being taken," she'd coo while caressing her thumb across his cheek.
he leaned into the touch as much as he could. at least someone was showing him kindness in this situation. his two other wives were being so mean to him while he was being seized. hell, even you were being mean, with the way your cock relentlessly bullied his g-spot.
suma shifted her hand over, placing it under uzui’s chin. she stretched her middle and index fingers out, using them to slightly prod at his lips. "open up, baby," she coaxed tenderly, slipping them into his mouth. as tengen swirled his tongue around suma’s fingers, she gradually pushed them deeper into his mouth until he gagged. "such a good and obedient boy."
her oral fingering session was cut short, however, when tengen let out a strangled moan, tears spilling from his eyes before rolling to the back of his head. "you came again already?" taunted makio, letting out a breathy laugh.
"how come you finish this fast when your ass is being used? do you prefer this over fucking us?" hinatsuru questioned, tilting her head as she continued to gaze at him. uzui stayed quiet, trying to regain what little composure he had left as you continued to fuck him through his orgasm. again. god, did you ever stop?
he hung his head low, hair cascading over his facial features. he didn't know how much more of this he could take. being too in his head about the matter, he failed to hear hinatsuru speaking again.
"tengen, I'm talking to you," she'd state monotonously, "look at me when I'm talking to you."
uzui was in too much of a daze to do as instructed, so you had to pitch in and help him out. stopping your movement, you leaned forward and grabbed tengen’s face, gently moving his head to face hinatsuru. "look at your wife when she's speaking to you, tengen," you huffed out, using a finger from the hand holding his face to lightly tap his cheek, pulling him back from the haze.
"jesus, you can't even do the bare minimum anymore without assistance from your dom," makio would tease, earning a playful giggle from suma. this was deeply humiliating on uzui's end. he really couldn't function properly anymore without your support. yet somehow he didn't feel any sort of shame for it; he liked being your displayed toy under the gazes of his wives. he loved the degradation that came with being owned by you. he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Thinking about WADE WILSON trapping you in his grasp, his masked chin perched on your shoulder and his blood-tinted leather glove shoved in-between your thighs. He reeks of impending doom, the scent combining with his natural aroma.
“Oh, no, no, don’t run from it, pretty boy.” WADE clicks his tongue, shaking his head as you squirm. His arm snaking around your waist tightened its grip, clutching you firmly against his front.
He sneaks his hand beneath your pants, wrapping it around the base of your hard cock before freeing it from your boxers. But he doesn’t allow the cool air to hit your sensitive hardness, choosing to toy with you by keeping it hidden under your shirt. You grunt, reaching to hold onto his knees. “W—wade.” You croak, trying not to buck your hips up.
WADE hums curiously, indicating that he was listening. With one finger, he maps out the silhouette of your length through the soft material. He’s enjoying this, and that fact is one he isn’t afraid to admit. “Hmm? D’ya want somethin’, baby?”
Despite his question, he doesn’t quite let you answer. Suddenly, his thumb presses down against the side of your tip, staring in great awe at how pre-cum begins to dampen the fabric. Your dick twitches from the stimulation, and you can’t prevent the plea from leaving you. “Stop teasin’ me, please.”
You can nearly feel his lips stretch upwards into a cocky grin. His palm rests flat on your length, gently rubbing up and down. Every time WADE’S finger went to messily massage your frenulum, your shirt would press into your skin and increase your responsiveness, making you uncontrollably throb. “Awww, we both know you don’t mean that. Our buddy over here likes it.” He teases, shifting to properly but lazily jerk you off.
His hand clenches when it curls ‘round your shaft, balancing you on the point of experiencing a high but never enough for you to actually reach it. WADE WILSON knows you can handle a tad of edging. “Be a good boy, c’mon that’s it, just a liiiiiiil’ bit more.”
summary: matt knows he experiences your body differently to your experience with his, he just wants to show you what it’s like to be senseless.
warnings: smut! porn with plot, oral (f receiving), afab!reader, but one mention of ‘good girl’, no use of y/n. - 18+ MDNI
word count: ~1.2k
enjoooooy - L
Matt is a giver, a lover down to his soul - including when you’ve had a stressful day, you’re overwhelmed - all he wants to do is relax you - make you come as many times as he can, feel you in any way he can.
You’re in your shared bed - a place where you allow the dark to seep in, trying to find peace and solace in a space of stress. Matt is above you, your legs on either side of his hips, his large forearms falling around each side of your head as your breathing becomes more strained.
Nothing else needed to exist for you to feel peace when he brought that feeling so easily. The way matt could bring you back to earth, make you feel so good that your brain couldn’t compute another thought.
“Just let me take care of you. no lights, no sound, just me.” he speaks into your ear, voice trailing off into a whisper toward the end as the hair on the back of your neck sticks up. “You can experience it the way i do.” he says, again in all but a whisper but you know what he means - he wants to to experience sex the way he does, experience the way he fucks you without all the other senses - nothing to distract you. All focus on him.
Matt can hear how fast your heart is beating, smiling to himself knowing this effect on you can only come from him, his touch. All the lights are off, there is no sound apart from your shared breathing and the slight movements as he inches down your body.
It feels like ice as his fingertips dance further toward where you’re pleading for him to be. “where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, the dark once again hiding his face from your sight, yet somehow you can still sense the smirk when he speaks. He knows where you need him, he just wants you to say it, to tell him. “matt please…” you whimper, voice coming out as barely a whisper, eyes staring toward the ceiling, wishing his dark eyes could bore into yours each time his fingertips smoothed lower. “You gotta tell me, love.” he laughs gently, stopping to take a hardened nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling around it as he listens to your breath hitch.
“Matt-shit-… need your mouth.” you mumble, almost ashamed to ask for what you want, what you need.
“mmm there she is.” Matt smiles as he takes the other nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing slightly as your back arches into his touch. His strong hand takes the other breast at the same time, tugging and pushing the flesh. You wonder if this is more for you or more for him, but you know regardless he’ll give you what you deserve.
Matt slowly inches down your body, leaving hot kisses behind, lowering himself between your legs. His lips leave kisses on the insides of your thighs, the only sounds you can hear are your lips letting go of moans as you gently say “fuck, feels so good.” letting him know how right he’s doing by you.
“‘m so hard already sweetheart, haven’t even tasted you yet.” He says, mouth slowly grazing your glistening pussy, your heart racing so fast you think it might leave your chest.
No words leave your lips, as hard as you try. his tongue reaches down to lick a stripe up your wet folds, hot breath fanning across your skin. “oh my god.” you breathe out, voice louder than you expected it to be as you hear matt softly laugh to himself. Your whole body feels like it’s been set alight as he slowly circles your clit, lips enclosing around it as his hands grip into your hips with that strength that sends you mad.
His lips don’t stop, sucking softly and being replaced by gentle licks with his tongue as he relishes in the reactions he gathers from you. From between your legs all he can think about is the taste of you on his lips and his fast he can get your heart going - how relaxed you’ll be after he gets you to let go.
He moves two fingers to your entrance, teasing you gently, knowing you need one final push toward the cliff you so desperately want to fall from. “is this ok? is this what you want?” he says, voice gravelly with lust, making you feel dizzy. “fuck, m-matt yes… holy shit.” you moan, hands moving downward to hold his hair as he slips his fingers inside you, your nails slowly running over his scalp, making him moan against your clit as he continues his assault. The vibrations of his moan run through your skin, back arching again as you can feel a coil tighten in your stomach. He can tell you’re close, he knows you’ve already forgotten about the stress of whatever happened earlier, all focus now on his mouth, his hands - him in general.
“You sound so pretty when you talk to me.” he speaks, “love when i hear you use your voice, sweetheart.” Using his teeth to graze over your clit, listening to the way the whole place is silent bar the sounds he’s making in your wetness.
“I’m so close, fuck” you let out, hand gripping onto the sheets below you as the other holds onto his messy hair harder than previously, making him lick and suck more fervently than before. “i know, i can feel you. let go sweetheart.” he says, fingers moving faster inside your walls in a ‘come here’ motion, hitting that spot only he can find within you.
He can feel how close he’s gotten you by the way your walls tighten around his fingers, gripping him and sucking him further in. You can feel the coil beginning to spin out, body bursting with the need to let go.
As your eyes flutter closed, pins and needles beginning in your toes and blood rushing to your ears, you can feel the pulsing start as your orgasm pulls closer. “I’m gonna-“ you start, unable to finish the sentence fully as he moans again, finally pushing you over the edge as all you see is white in comparison to the black darkness of the room around you both.
Your moans and his sounds are again the only things audible in the bedroom, hands gripping the sheets so hard you would be concerned about ripping them if you weren’t so far off the planet with how he’s making you feel.
Matts mouth hasn’t stopped his movements, pushing you to where you need to pull his head away from you with overstimulation.
“Good girl.” is all you hear, ears slowly beginning to hear again, feeling him kiss your stomach gently.
“Wonder how many more i can get from you…”
—
tagging a couple people just cause it’s my first one!
you could feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up at matt, hands still pressed up against his chest and lips just a bit plumper from the kiss he had pulled you into.
his question had no doubt caught you off guard. with the way your heart was beating, loud enough that all of new york could likely hear it, you were more than positive he already had his answer. your eyes shifted, looking anywhere else but at matt, and your hands began to make their slow retreat.
“oh, sweetheart,” matt crooned out, “don’t play shy with me. you can tell me the truth, you know.” his hands went to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.
it was becoming increasingly difficult to formulate words, your mouth opening and closing as he donned that signature murdock smirk.
“so what if i do?” came your belated response, words no doubt defensive as you practically drowned in embarrassment. “you don’t strike me as a rough kind of guy.”
it was only when your back hit the wall did you finally allow yourself to breathe out an exhale.
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matt murdock would so be the type to help you reach something high up on the shelf by putting one hand on your hip and leaning up behind you. he likes to hear how fast your heart will race and that sharp little intake of breath you take in. and when he hands you whatever it was you were struggling to grab, he’ll lean down and murmur, “this what you needed, sweetheart?”
“There you go, good boy.” His hand cups your jaw, his lips ghosting over your own before they settle on your cheek. He simply looked too good, acted too nice, and you weren’t able to resist. His tongue lazily drags all the way to your neck, latching onto a sweet spot as he teasingly rolls his hips.
You shudder, your hands curling around his thighs. “Stop callin’ me that—” you’re cut off by your own groan when he suddenly grounds down against your clothed cock. He softly chuckles, the husky timbre muffled. “Why, don’t you like bein’ told you’re good?” He grinds in small, tantalizing circles, paired with a harsh bite, “My good boy. C’mon, take everything I give you.”
a/n: idk, man. i was drunk and in a mood. just wanted to get the idea out of my head. not proofread at all - feel free to call me out on any mistakes and such.
you don't sleep with your windows open.
call it paranoia from having lived alone all this time. call it OCD. call it a habit.
lock the windows, double lock the doors, make sure the latches are on tight.
that has always been a routine, no matter how tired or drunk you were, no matter how late it was.
it was crazy to think someone had the skills to invade your apartment despite it all. granted you were asleep, but it was a surprise regardless.
Matt has a spare key, naturally. but he didn't use it. why would he? Daredevil doesn't need permission, least of all in the middle of the night - when his mind seems as dark and twisted as the streets of Hell's Kitchen.
he would usually wake you up when he was this covered in blood and dirt. you'd help him take off his suit, help him clean up and patch up. maybe even get him a hot meal.
not tonight.
tonight wasn't about fixing. not when he could still hear the strangled pleas of the man he nearly snapped the neck of. not when he could still feel bones crunch under his knuckles. not when he could feel the drops of blood on his skin from God knows how many goons he took care of on the streets.
he always called your apartment ideal for his meditation. not that he didn't keep his own as tidy and meticulous as possible, but your apartment was... clean. not a everything-has-its-place clean. but the kind of clean where he forgets how close to Hell's Kitchen you live.
gone is the smell of garbage on the streets. gone is the stench of sweat and piss that he can sense at every turn in the city. gone is the smell of blood he's been covered in far too often.
here? in your apartment? it was just you.
the spices that you cook with. the plants you decided to try and take care of this week. the fresh sheets you're obsessed with changing periodically. your lavender scented candles. your vanilla perfume.
the cum you think you cleaned off your fingers.
his breath hitched and his mouth watered as he caught it, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips parted with a shaky exhale.
he clicked his tongue. he had a busy night. a busy day. but was that really an excuse for not realizing how you were probably moaning his name into your pillow while your fingers and toys were—
his thoughts got cut off when he grunted involuntarily, his hand trailing down to his crotch as he palmed himself through his suit.
he appreciated the position you slept in. on your stomach, one leg hitched up. minimal clothes.
it was such easy access.
he trailed over to the side of the bed you slept on, removing one of his gloves as he used his fingers to move the strands of hair on your face. his fingers trailed to your own, the ones you had used earlier tonight. lingering over them, collecting the remnants only he could sense. he wasn't going to let it go to waste, and most of all, he wasn't going to miss out.
he was a dazed man tonight. the things he'd seen, the things he'd done—
that's what he was telling himself as he shushed you, covering your mouth with his gloved one while his other helped him angle himself just right. a sound between a sigh and a whimper left his lips as he felt how easy it was to bottom out inside you, "that's my girl."
you groaned against his palm, your eyes wide as you found yourself awake so abruptly. you didn't hear the door open, didn't hear him enter, didn't feel him wake you up like he usually would.
"came enough times tonight, sweetie?" he bit down on your earlobe, his lips and teeth trailing down the back of your neck, your shoulders. "can't blame me for feeling left out, can ya?"
your defense was muffled against his palm. you could feel the coarse grains of mud and dirt against your lips, the texture of his glove digging into your cheeks.
"quiet—" he all but growled as he removed his hand from your mouth, his teeth biting down on your cheek. you did your best to stifle your shriek, involuntarily clenching around him as your legs thrashed.
his hand didn't hesitate to trail down to your thigh and pinch, a wordless warning as focused on the sounds - the slapping of skin, the squelch of your walls clasping around his girth.
"not about you tonight," he panted, shamelessly gripping the back of your head and shoving your face into your pillow - one that would be painted in your tears and drool soon enough.
"but you'll let me get away with that, won't you? you—" he choked on a chuckle and a groan, feeling your ass push back, "you let me get away with anything. proven that enough times."
he shoved his gloved hand under your stomach, trailing it down to your clit as he let the rough texture stimulate you further, relishing the cry that got muffled by your pillow.
he couldn't hate the way his cock twitched inside you at that.
"shit— that's it," his other hand momentarily left the back of your head as he removed his cowl hastily, the sweat making his head feel like it was going to burst.
you didn't miss out on the opportunity, words stumbling out your mouth as you tried to sniffle and breathe.
"matt, please, please, e-ease up— at least grab a—"
"people forget," he grunted, shoving your face back into your pillow - and the way it made you scream ignited something in his chest.
"this city? these people? mine to protect," he put his entire weight on to you, your legs thrashing as the pressure increased.
he was everywhere. his rough gloved fingers toying with your clit, his cock slamming deeper inside you, his hand holding your head down, and now his entire weight ensuring he had you right where he wanted you. he was strong, so impossibly strong.
the way your hands had been thrashing for purchase didn't even matter.
"you are mine to protect," he murmured, his voice loud enough to reach you. "mine to keep safe. spent. full."
one of your hands managed to reach his batons he still had strapped to his thigh, grabbing and tugging at them in a state of panic as he relentlessly took and took and took from you.
his lips twisted up in a smirk as his hand came up on yours, squeezing tight around the batons, "greedy girl."
you turned your face to the side on your pillow, gasping for air as you choked on your tears, "f-fuck, wait, please, Matt—"
well, how could he say no to that?
he strapped the batons off his thigh, keeping them next to your face as he shoved two fingers in your mouth, "just prepping you for what you want, sweetie."
you groaned around the digits and tried shaking your head. maybe your head shoved into the pillow was mercy.
"shh, sh sh—" he was quick then, his fingers out your mouth and the end of the baton being shoved in, using the fact that your mouth was open to gasp as his opportunity.
"wanted it so bad, huh?" he matched the pace of his hand with his thrusts, feeling every spasm - tight, frantic, wild - as your body fought between pain and pleasure, shame and surrender.
"look at you," he growled against your ear, voice thick, "so full. so fucking perfect."
you couldn't help but drool around the thick end of the baton, occasional choking noises escaping your lips as he tested you and pushed you. you realized this was not about pleasure - certainly not your own.
tremors shook your legs and you squeezed your eyes shut, your throat constricting as a lump formed. your shaky breaths through your nose turned into whines, hot tears burning your eyes and streaming down your cheeks into your pillow as you came, shattered open by pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
he pulled his baton out your mouth as he groaned at the feel of your walls tightening around him, the feel of you cumming against him pushing him over the edge. his hand gripped your hair and tilted your head back, his lips latching on to yours - all teeth and tongue and moans while his hips stuttered once, twice, and then going still as he emptied inside you with a shudder so deep it made even him ease up against you for the first time tonight.
your thighs were quaking beneath him as soft sobs escaped your lips, your shaky fingers reaching back to touch him - feel his hair, his skin, his suit against your palms.
he stayed inside you long after his breathing slowed, even as reality began creeping back in.
"took it so well, baby. took me so well," he let his lips trail all over your face - kissing your skin, lapping at your tears, nipping at your skin.
sniffles and whimpers were the only noises that you thought were possible as a response right now, your fingers trembling while touching his face as much as you could. you needed to feel him, to know that this was real - that he was real.
"now..." his hand trailed back to his batons, lingering to feel the way your drool still coated one end, "i'm gonna put this to good use. and you, sweetie, are going to ease up for me, okay? can't let your hardwork go to waste, can we?"
you didn't need much to realize that that was far from a question.
after all, Daredevil doesn't need permission, least of all in the middle of the night - when his mind seems as dark and twisted as the streets of Hell's Kitchen.
whatever you do, don’t think about how matt murdock’s holy silver cross necklace dangles in front of your face while he fucks you oh-so-deviously.
don’t think about how matt murdock's breath against your neck was like that of a silent confession, each exhale a sinful prayer that made you tremble from the need of it all.
don’t think about how matt murdock will have you moaning out a variety of expletives and the occasional ‘oh god, matt’ when he angles those dexterous hips just right.
don’t think about how matt murdock smirks at you with such sinful lips, or how they had been buried between the plush of your thighs only moments before.
don't think about how matt murdock's voice, intoxicating and rough, pulled you in like a prayer you didn’t want to answer. every word he uttered was like a unholy promise that set your heart racing with an urgency that was impossible control.
don’t think about the way matt murdock uttered praise down at your blissed out form was practically unhallowed — “come on, angel, you can get louder than that.”
don’t think about how matt murdock’s very touch was downright unholy. your skin beneath his tempting hands burned with nothing but pure need and desire, and it was practically etched into just features just how well he knew.
don’t think about how matt murdock’s pace was a rough, steady assault, each movement building a tension too intense to bear. it was almost if he was testing your limits, drawing you closer to the edge with every deliberate and divine thrust.
and absolutely don’t think about the way matt murdock has your back arching, eyes rolling back as pure euphoria washes over your angelic form. that silver cross of his dangled before you, taunting, served as an all too familiar reminder of how every intimate encounter with matt murdock was sure to be sacrilegious.
alastor finding it so rewarding everytime he makes you squirt.
such triumph from the egotistical maniac every time he has you quivering and trembling under him, how fucking pathetic you look laying in your own mess.
he’ll have your thighs pushed back, keeping you nice and spread for him, making sure to have the perfect view for his victory.
“oh, dear, another mess? you poor thing”
it wasn’t too hard to get you off, but getting you to squirt was an entirely different ball game, but a game he had learned perfectly,
and in no time, nonetheless.
abusing your hole and clit until a shaking mess, then he’d stick a finger or two in and curl it painfully to the roof of your gummy cunt, that was the key.
“look at you, fragile as a fawn, sweetheart”
then, it was about the timing.
he’d even go as far as to count down, just to tease you, just to piss you off.
“any second now, yeah?”
and, that was it.
the look on his face once you’d squirt, absolute victory.
but, until he realized it had gone so far as to stain his vest.
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