ladywithfear

[ladywithfear]

Combat trained reader (fellow vigilante, ex-hydra experiment, whatever) who, sometimes, when Matt needs to blow off steam, will coerce him into a "friendly" sparring match- and whoever wins gets to be in charge. Sometimes it's reader, who spends the night getting matt absolutely pussy drunk, just begging to get you off one more time, whining and pleading when he can manage to put words together. Sometimes it's matt who absolutely manhandles you, needing to be touching as much as possible- hard and demanding until the noise in his head quiets and hones in on just you.

a/n: i INSTANTLY thought of that moment when you sent me this request... oh boy... what I wouldn't give to be nestled in between those thighs...

word count: 1502

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“What? No. Why would you even suggest something like that?”

“Because, we both know it’s a sure-fire way for you to blow off some steam,” you exhaled before cocking your head, “well, that and something else…”

“Sweetheart–,” Matt went on, though when his lips parted once again, your fist was already soaring through the air. Narrowly dodging the throw, he swiftly exclaimed, “hey!”

“Just get out of your head, Matty,” you raised up both your fists, although the stubborn beast before you still stood his ground.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” he refused.

“What, you scared you can’t take me on?” you tried to egg him on, though only caused him to let out a sigh, “come on, it’s just some friendly sparring.”

His fingers briefly floated up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he then pointed out, “you do know that I could just put on my mask and hit the streets if I wanted to brawl, right?”

“You could,” you tilted your head, “but then you wouldn’t be able to immediately follow it up with the only other method that works at getting you to calm down,” a smirk twitched on your lips before you threw another punch, though this time the vigilante was faster and caught onto your arm as he blocked your attempt. Spinning you around, Matt then pinned your back to his chest, making the smile on your lips only widen, “my suggestion is that if you win, then I will do anything you want me to for the rest of the night…” you slowly guided one of his palms down over your frame, gliding it across your covered boobs to get your point across.

“And if you win?” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear.

Dragging his hand further south, you swiftly cupped his touch against your clothed core as you uttered, “then I get to have you whatever way I want…”

Slipping out of his hold just as the touch of your haven caused him to lower his guard, you then whirled around and attempted to kick him, although he dodged once again.

He was hesitant at first, reluctant while you kept on begging him to let go, reminding him of how you could take it, assuring him that he didn’t have to pull his punches. But even so, it took a while before he finally snapped and began to fight back.

However, eventually when you found yourself pinned to the ground with his weight atop of you, when all hope seemed lost, you managed to turn the tides by teasing him, tilting your head up till your lips nearly met, and just as the pending kiss sank into his soul, you flipped him around and straddled his hips.

As you caught his hands and planted them on the floor above his head, a low exhale flowed from his lungs at your victory, “you fucking cheater…”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” you teased before leaning down to actually kiss him.

And as your fingers stayed enveloped around his wrists, you heard him murmur against your lips, “best out of three?”

“Nice try,” you chuckled as you let the tip of your nose ghost against his own, “but how about you instead just make me cum three times.”

And that’s how you ended up first sitting on his face, with the comfort of your soft thighs trembling on either side of his skull. You remained there till you had him begging to let you cum with something other than his tongue.

As you sank down upon him and his torso rose off the floor, sitting up to be adjacent to you, the manner in which you rode him at times felt more like you were just hugging him. Your pace was slow and gentle as you bounced in his lap, your arms tangled firmly around his frame so that it wasn’t just your cunt that embraced him tight.

“Alright,” you sighed as you rose from the couch, “get up,” you gestured exhaustedly to Matt in the armchair across from you, “come on, up.”

Fume was essentially puffing out of his ears at this point, as if he were a kettle about to start whistling. Slowly, he rose with a sigh, exchanging no further words as you first crossed an arm over your chest to stretch out your shoulder, warming up just ever so slightly before you then lunged at him.

You half expected him to be hesitant this time as well, but just as you tackled him and encouraging words nearly flowed from your lips, he suddenly began to fight back.

Bumping into furniture, a lamp was knocked to the floor from the tornado of your wrestling, though none of the mess managed to put a pause to either of your efforts.

And when the apartment was a mess around you both and you were rolling across the floor, Matthew managed to get a few decent hits in as he lost himself to the scuffle, clocking you across the jaw just hard enough to make your bells ring and grant him the opening to whirl you around, slotting himself in behind you on the floor, and tangling his legs around your head.

With his thighs persistent and flexing against the sides of your neck, the rest of his long legs curved over the rest of your torso, keeping your wiggling at a minimum. The pressure stayed fast as you stubbornly scrambled your brain for a way out of the hold, but just as your lights began to dim, your palm finally shot up to tap against the thick tree trunk of his thigh.

As he unfurled you from the hold, coughs cut up your panting a moment as you waited for your balance to come back to you.

“Well…” you soon uttered breathlessly as fair was fair, “how do you want me, Matty?”

Chest still heaving, his words came out as a whisper as he then murmured, “come here,” before he then grabbed ahold of you and pulled you in for a kiss.

His hands were scorching across your form as he soon plucked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he got up and began to march into the bedroom.

Dropping you down to kneel on the edge of the bed, his grip stayed rooted in the hair on the nape of your neck, fingers close to the roots as he withdrew from the fevered kiss and kept your face dangerously close to his own.

“Take this off,” he commanded in a gravelly tone, faintly gesturing to your clothing as you shared his hot breath. And once you’d scrambled to fulfil his wish, scatting your clothes to the floor, he then hazily pointed to his own attire and added breathlessly, “this too...”

It wasn’t till he was nude as well that he finally lightened his grasp in your hair and let you kiss him once again.

Growling against your lips, his fingers soon swept around to grab your jaw, though when his touch slid across your blossoming bruise, a small wince couldn’t help but rush out of your lungs.

“Are you okay?” he instantly pulled back, pausing for a second.

“Yeah, I’m good, promise,” you uttered, confident that you weren’t the only one who’d be sore in the morning after that little match, “now,” you smiled and attempted to shift his focus back upon the matters at hand, “what else do you want me to do? Let me make you feel good, baby.”

And as the corners of your lips curled up, Matt soon mirrored the expression, grinning back at you before he playfully tossed you back onto the bed.

Shadowing you onto the mattress, your feet were up by his face as he then seized your head, and grunted, “open your fucking mouth...” before muffling your whimpers on his cock.

Slobber dribbled out of the corners of your stretched lips and leaked down over his heavy sack as he held your skull with both of his hands, bobbing your head up and down like a fleshlight for him to get off with.

And as he layed back more to rest on the pillows behind him, just as his fingers began to fade from your hair, his legs instead took their place, tangling up around your head and pushing you further down upon his fat dick.

Gagging gently around him, he began to fuck your throat, though kept his strong legs locked around your skull, keeping you down, as his hips below your nose began to move, twisting up and sloppily thrusting deeper into the warmth of your mouth till your brain turned into mush.

He then twisted a bit as one of his hands shot out to split your legs further apart, making room for his touch and he swiftly sought out that little pearl, swirling it under the rough pads of his fingers till your moans vibrated around his cock in your throat.

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ladywithfear]

[ladywithfear]

Me, selecting filters on Ao3

[ladywithfear]

Words of Affirmation (Matt Murdock x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Matt is a very logical man. It's one of your favorite things about your boyfriend. But when you need comfort and he only offers solutions to your problems, it pushes you away. With help from Foggy and Karen, he learns about love languages—and realizes what he really needed to do. WORD COUNT: 2.2k WARNINGS: Miscommunication. Slight arguing.

NOTES: Anyone else feeling the Matt Murdock drought since the show ended? :( Needed to write some for my main man. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Matt and Y/n had been together for a little over a year now, and the honeymoon phase was slowly slipping and being replaced with domesticated bliss. The routine they built together was put together by a foundation of tender love and care they had nested. Such as, her swinging by his office with lunch for him. Or when Matt would ask the florist which flowers were pink so he could fill her kitchen vase with her favorite color. Small things to brighten each other’s day. 

And that aspect of their relationship was perfect. Filled with consideration and a sense of knowing each other… But she had been feeling struck by a horrible mood lately. She was going through a bad streak at work where it felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Her hair was at an awkward length because of a messed up haircut she had gotten recently (thank god, Matt was blind). And she hadn’t had time to go to the gym because of her hectic work schedule lately.

It just felt like everything was wrong. Everything brushed her the wrong way. 

She tried to get the support of her boyfriend, but it was like pulling teeth. Matt was a very logical man, and that was something she loved about him. Whenever she was spiraling with anxiety or overthinking something, he was always there to remind her of the more objective truth.

 ‘Nobody is gonna notice.’ ‘It’s just one mistake, nobody will be mad at you.’ ‘The world isn’t ending because of this.’ 

But sometimes that just isn’t what she wanted to hear. And that strategy blew up in his face one night.

One night, after an already stressful day at work, she and Matt were supposed to go to dinner. But the dress she had really wanted to wear didn’t fit right. It was a beautiful, bright blue silk dress that was supposed to hug her curves just right. She had bought it just for Matt because she knew his heightened senses loved the feeling of the material. It was an expensive buy, but she knew it’d get some use with Matt around.

Yet it didn’t look like it had a few months ago. She tried to take in deep breaths, but they were shaky. She was just a little bloated because of her cycle, and she knew that. But it was more than that. She felt like her skin was overly oily, and her hair wasn’t at its shiny, voluminous peak.  The skin on her legs was dry from the winter cold starting to settle in. The ill-fitting dress was just the cherry on top. 

“Sweetheart, we've got twenty minutes before we have to get in the cab, and you haven’t even started your makeup.” He said, peeking his head in.

She stared at herself in the mirror, unhappy with herself. 

“I don’t wanna go.” She said, and she knew she was being dramatic. But she felt just awful. 

Matt’s brows furrowed, and genuine concern washed over him. “What? Why? You’ve been wanting to go to this restaurant for a while now.” He pointed out, which made her feel worse. Because she was looking forward to this. She had seen all the new desserts online and wanted to try some with him. Yet she just felt so… off that she didn’t want to.

“I don’t feel right. I- I think I’m just really tired or something.” She said softly

“Well, I told you to take a nap earlier.” He said. 

Ding. Another thing that made her feel worse. She didn’t want to take a nap because she wanted to get some extra work done at home before her next shift. But his pointing it out just made her feel like he was rubbing it in.

“I couldn’t. And I just don’t look good today, and this dress isn’t fitting right.” She complained, looking over at him as he leaned against the door. He was already dressed in a nice white dress shirt and pants. He always looked nice- it was easy for him. Even though she was getting annoyed, she did always appreciate how dressed up he was. For work. For dates. For errands. He always looked put together… She didn’t feel put together, much less look it. 

“Then wear another dress.” He stated simply, and he was met with furious silence. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“What’s wrong? I’m sure you look fine.” He said, confused, and starting to get a little frustrated himself. Even without his super senses, he could tell she was angry. He didn’t need to hear her fast beating heart to understand the frustration building around her. “You know that I don’t care.” He tried to joke, pointing to his eyes… Bad timing.

“You don’t care?” She snapped, “I just- I try so hard to look and feel nice, and you don’t care? I wear the silk and the lotion and the makeup, and-” She stammered. “It’s not working tonight, but have you ever even cared?”

Matt walked further into the room, sensing her spiral. “Hey, hey, sweetie, it’s not that I don’t care. You just know that… I can’t see you. You could be wearing a plastic bag, and all I’d be able to sense is that you’re wearing less.” He tried to explain, reaching to hold her hips.

But it wasn’t really about the looks, and she was too tense and filled with emotion to be able to talk through her feelings directly. “I’m not going.” She said.

He sighed and raised his hands. “Fine. Fine. Whatever you want.” He said, not understanding where all this sudden anger came from. 

“So we didn’t go to dinner. I went home, and she’s barely talked to me since.” Matt said to his friends, looking for advice. 

Foggy and Karen stared at him from across the booth at Josie’s slack-jawed. 

“You’re… you’re joking, right?” Foggy asked after he told them what had happened. 

He furrowed his brows. “No, why would I be joking?” 

Karen scoffed and put her hands on her mouth in disbelief before going, “Jesus, Matt, why would you say… any of that?” 

He looked around confused and leaned in. “Say what? I didn’t say anything. I just told her the truth.”

“So you’re telling me. That your super-hot girlfriend is feeling bad about herself, and you essentially told her that her efforts have been for nothing.” Foggy said.

“On top of telling her multiple times what she should do or should’ve done,” Karen added, “Which is probably the worst part of that.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do any of that. I was just trying to be honest.” He defended himself, but was definitely starting to understand. 

Karen took a sip of her Long Island iced tea in front of her. “It just sounds like you weren’t really listening to her.”

“Karen, I can’t not listen to anybody.” He said with a huff.

“Matt.” She chided. Her voice was a warning that he needed to actually listen here: “Trying to simply fix everything isn’t listening to her. Do you know what her love language is?”

He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “No, what’s that?” 

“Matt, you’ve been dating this girl for over a year, and you guys have never talked about this?” Foggy asked, surprised. 

“No. No, I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” He replied, and as much as he wanted the Let’s Shame Matt parade to end, he felt that he needed to feel it.

Karen chimed in again. “It’s like how people give and receive love. There’s like physical touch, gift giving, acts of service-”

“Quality time. Words of affirmation.” Foggy chimed in.

Matt just listened now, wanting to understand this new concept. 

“What does she like? What’s something you do that sends her over the moon?” Foggy asked.

He thought about it. It was hard because it felt like they did everything. He bought her flowers. He was over every weekend. They’d help each other around their respective apartments. It’s not like they were lacking in the physical touch department. 

Then he really thought about it, and a memory popped up. It was from a few months back. She had been studying so hard for a promotion at work. This important test to advance up. And when she came back, revealing that she had gotten the promotion and had received one of the highest scores, he hugged her, of course, then said. “I knew you could do it. My sweet girl is so smart. So so smart.” And that had rendered her speechless. Then she proceeded to practically pounce on him, which he remembered in more vivid detail.

“She… she really likes it when I compliment her.” He said to them.

“Words of affirmation,” Karen said with her hand out, “That’s what I was thinking it was. Because when was the last time you did that?” 

… That test was the last time he remembered. “The time I’m thinking about was a few months back. I’m sure there were other times, but what I’m thinking about was obvious.” He sipped his beer again. “It’s just hard because it’s not like I can see her,” Matt explained why he was so infrequent at this.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you flirt, bud. You can definitely do it without sight. I’m just surprised you’re so bad at it with your actual girlfriend.” He teased

“Hey.” Matt warned with an expression that told him to cool it, “I’m trying.”

“Tomorrow. Go apologize, and use your words to show her just how much you love her.” Karen interrupted the two.

That’s how Matt ended up at her apartment with a bouquet of lilies in his hand and a slice of her favorite cake in a plastic takeout box. The kind of cake with the strawberries and syrupy glaze she liked. He opened the door using the key she had given him. 

“Sweetheart? It’s me.” He called out, “You home?” 

There was no answer, but it’s not like he didn’t know. He could hear her heartbeat in her room, and it had picked up when he opened the door. 

He walked down the hall to her bedroom and gently opened the door. The smell of her vanilla candle filled his senses. The millionth rewatch of her favorite rom-com, Pretty Woman, played on her TV. She lay strewn across in bed in his old Columbia law T-Shirt, she had had it so long that she had practically forgotten it was originally his, and some velvety pajama shorts. 

“Hi.” She said, a drop in her usual tone, but she didn’t stop him. Her eyes were set on the television. 

“Hi, sweetie.” He said, walking in. “I got you some things.” He said, gently putting the lilies and the cake on her bedside table. 

She looked them over. “Thank you.” Even though she was still mad at him, she didn’t want to seem unappreciative. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently reached out to hold her hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about the other night. I- I wasn’t listening to how you felt. And I should’ve been a lot more considerate instead of just trying to fix everything.” He said, “That wasn’t fair to you.”

Wow. He hit the nail on the head. She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief.

“Who’d you talk to?” She asked suspect. As much as she wanted to laugh at that, she didn’t want him to blow it off so easily. So she didn’t change her face.

“Karen and Foggy. Who beat some sense into me.” He said, and he looked over at her for a second before leaning down. “And just reminded me of how beautiful and stunning and clever my girl is.” He said gently before kissing her temple.

He heard her heart leap in speed as her eyes widened. 

He gave another kiss on her cheek. “I’m so lucky. So so smart and driven. Always working so hard.” He said, his voice low, and she looked up at him, nodding. She sat up a little so he didn’t have to lean so far. 

“You know, when we’re out together, I can hear all the heads turning to get a good look at you. I can hear their hearts skipping beats because of how beautiful you are.” He whispered just before her lips and then pressed a gentle kiss. 

“Jesus, Matt. Where’s all this coming from?” She asked breathlessly, now wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting him closer. 

“I just realized I wasn’t properly showing my love and appreciation.” He said, “I have a lot to talk about, and a lot of time not doing it to make up for.” 

She smiled. Practically beamed. “Thank you…” She said feeling much better already. 

His hands gently traced up her legs. “You smell really good. You know I like that cherry shampoo.” He said, and he reached up and felt the material of her shirt along her waist, “And I love when you wear my old shirts. I’m sure you look much better than I ever did wearing them.” He planted a kiss on her neck, “Much prettier.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Matt,” She said, sighing, relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages. 

“Oh, sweetheart, we can’t have that.” He shook his head, “Your heartbeat is my favorite sound in the world. I love making it speed up like this.” He said before kissing her again. And again. And again. 

[ladywithfear]

ddba!matt murdock sitting with eager!reader in his lap while he works, your naked back to his clothed chest, while his fingers roam absently over your puffy clit and you can't help but whimper his name. he shushes you of course, promising to take care of you later, only offering you little teasing rubs and pats here and there. when you cum super quick—not thirty seconds in—he just does that one dry chuckle in your ear for being so sensitive while he continues about his work. he rubs you stupid in the next hour, and you cum pretty much every five minutes, socks sliding softly against his pant leg under the table as he reprimands you, “ach—stop fussing, baby.” for wiggling around too much, secretly finding you so adorable and amusing (╥﹏╥)

masterlist | support my writing

[ladywithfear]

Charlie Cox in Daredevil: Born Again - S01E03

[ladywithfear]

Matt Murdock in an unbuttoned white shirt I need you biblically 🥵

[ladywithfear]

Not a request, just a horny thought that I had to share and like, gonna be honest, when I get horny thoughts about Matt you're the first blog/person I think to spill too. Currently obsessed with somnophilia and I just think about Matt coming back late after his patrols and just, ya know, using his partner to work off the excess energy, trying so hard no to wake her but he just gets so carried away he ends up pounding her into the mattress waking her up as his big ole dick absolutely wrecks her, her cumming within moments of waking up

eeee now i'm imagining somno slow love-making turning into rough, grunting missionary where your legs are hiked up on his shoulders, while he presses his temple—cloth still wrapped over his eyes—against yours. and when you cum, your legs twitch reflexively with your orgasm, but he keeps them pushed up against your chest with his broad dark body until you're whimpering n crying yourself awake. also you might like my somno tag, if you haven't seen it already :)

[ladywithfear]

💄💋𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞💋💄

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Foggy and Marci’s wedding is around the corner, and you just need to find a lipstick that won’t smear through food, dancing, or “rom-com climax” level vows. Matt’s the perfect test subject, and your kiss-stained canvas.

“You want the perfect lipstick for their big day, clearly a matter of national importance…” “And here I was thinking you were just looking for an excuse to kiss me over and over.”

It’s not just science. It’s love.

Prefer to read on ao3? Available on there too! https://archiveofourown.org/works/66037951

Divider by: @dollywons

“…Matty, are you sureeee you’re not getting bored of this yet?” you ask sweetly, focusing on your reflection in the tiny compact mirror while you swipe on another shade, there’s been so many already, you’ve already lost count.

The eighth or ninth, maybe?

Matt is seated on the couch right next to you, his suit jacket discarded, collar and tie loosened, his lips coated and smudged in different shades of red, pinks, berries, wines, and a few corals. Your sweet, kiss-stained canvas.

“I’m blind, not numb to your touch,” he replies, he’s barely managing not to smile, despite his face nearly in a swoon. “Carry on, Counselor.”

You climb back over, your soft, plus thighs straddling his lap without hesitation. His hands find your hips automatically.

“Ready?”

“For science,” he replies, straight-faced and serious.

You kiss him slowly and deliberately. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure. Then pull back with mock precision to inspect the damage.

You pout slightly, checking his lips, brushing your thumb along the corner.

“…ugh, seriously? It still transferred.” You sigh dramatically, grabbing a makeup wipe and removing that shade from your lips.

“Well, I think I’ve got a few more rounds in me,” he offers, he can’t keep the smirk off his face this time, though. “Purely for science and the sake of research.”

Your pout grows as you ask him softly, looking at his face and how it resembles a blotchy Valentine’s Day card, “and you’re sure I’m not wearing you out?” You start to slightly lean away, like you’ll climb out of his lap if he asks.

He can’t hide the slightly blissed out look on his face now as he replies, almost teasing, “I’m a very patient man…and besides, I’m not exactly suffering.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you settle into his lap further without a second thought. It’s easy like this, natural. His hands move back to you with instinct, fingers resting warm and steady on your thighs this time.

“I just…” you hesitate, reaching for another tube and twisting it in your hand for a moment, “I wanna make sure it lasts, y’know? I’m gonna be eating, talking, dancing…crying especially. Marci said the vows were going to be and I quote “full rom-com climax” level of emotional.”

“You want the perfect lipstick for their big day, clearly a matter of national importance…” he pauses to chuckle before he adds, “And here I was, thinking you were just looking for an excuse to kiss me over and over.”

“…eh, well I suppose that too…”

He lets out a faux dramatic sigh, but his hands squeeze your thighs like he’s not planning to let you go, “…ah, the things I do for love…”

You roll your eyes playfully, picking the compact mirror up and replying softly, “Alright now, Courage, you know you love it, but I need you to hush and be still so I can apply this one clearly.”

He doesn’t deny it, doesn’t even try. Why would he? But he does listen and stays still for you.

You swipe on the next shade, a soft rose with a light, glittery sheen. Pretty and subtle. One that makes you feel…a little more polished. A little more “wedding guest” and a little less “melting in a reception tent in over 100-degree weather”.

Matt must sense the shift in your mood, though, because when you lean in, one of his hands moves up from your thigh and cards his fingers through your hair, and his voice is softer, “What’s going on up here, hm?”

You shrug but look at him with a fond expression, “…it’s stupid…”

He waits, doesn’t push. Just keeps the one hand on your thigh and the other in your hair, holding you like you belong there, because you both know you do. So, you continue with your thoughts.

“It’s just…well, lipstick draws attention to my mouth…and pictures last forever…and I don’t know, sometimes I feel like there’s a spotlight on all the things I’d rather people not be focused on, y’know?”

Matt’s brows lift slightly, and he moves his hand from your hair to brush his fingertips over your bottom lip. “Sometimes, I wish you could see yourself in the way that I sense you when I touch you,” he murmurs. “You’d never second-guess yourself again.”

Your breath hitches as you continue looking at him fondly, hearts would surely be in your eyes if this were a cartoon.

“This mouth?” he continues, brushing his thumb there now, so gently it makes you shiver. “Is my favorite thing to kiss. To listen to. To wake up next to. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you smile. And you are going to smile at that wedding…or else.”

You giggle a little as you blink back the sudden warmth behind your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re covered in my lip prints.”

“That may be true,” he concedes, grinning. “But it doesn't make me wrong.”

You lean down, kissing him again…much slower this time. Not in a rush for the sake of testing. Just a soft, thoughtful, and sweet kiss of affection.

When you pull back, there’s a faint smear. You sigh. “Ugh, still not transfer-proof.”

Matt shrugs, completely content. “I’ll endure.”

You laugh, reaching for the next tube and another makeup wipe. “Mhm, you’re such a trooper.”

Matt hums, tugging you closer without effort, both of his hands moving to be a gentle weight on your waist now. “For you? Always.”

Then he leans in, not for your lips this time, but lower, and presses his mouth softly to your jaw.

You feel a faint tackiness immediately.

“Wait—” you blink, drawing back a little, “Matt, did you just—?”

Matt tilts his head, lips still tinted with your last experiment, not even trying to hide the smug edge in his smile. “Might’ve left a little something of my own behind.”

You grab the compact mirror again and look at your reflection. Sure enough: a warm rose-pink kiss mark, right beneath your cheekbone, like a stamp. A quiet little claim.

You glance back at him, cheeks warming. “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“No,” he says, his thumb ghosting along the edge of the mark. “That one was just for me.”

The air between you softens, full of things unsaid but understood.

Then—

“Matt? You home?”

You freeze.

Matt doesn’t.

He lifts his voice, deadpan. “Living room. Don’t mind the science.”

You make a soft, mortified sound and go to reach for the nearest makeup wipe, but it’s too late—Foggy steps into view and immediately short-circuits.

He stops. Stares. Eyes take in everything: the lipsticks scattered like crime scene evidence, your position in Matt’s lap, his entire face covered in various shades, and the clear smear of a fresh kiss on your jaw.

“Oh,” Foggy says flatly. “So, we’re doing this now, huh?”

Matt lifts a hand in greeting, not even flinching, he almost looks proud to have your prints all over him. “Hey, man. Testing long-wear lipstick durability. It’s for the wedding.”

You groan. “Matt.”

“Hey, it’s science,” Matt says. “Very serious business.”

Foggy gestures vaguely toward you. “Did she win, or are you both just... permanently stained now?”

“I’m not sure,” Matt says thoughtfully. “But I think I like this one best.”

You swat his chest with the back of your hand, trying to suppress your laughter as Foggy turns to leave.

“Oh, and Marci says no reds unless they’re bulletproof,” Foggy calls over his shoulder. “Something about reception napkins and revenge.”

The front door shuts behind him.

You exhale a dramatic sigh, your head resting against Matt’s shoulder. “He’s never gonna let this go.”

“He’s gonna bring it up in his best man speech,” Matt agrees, kissing the top of your head.

You lean back just enough to meet his smile, your voice a little softer now. “I think I found my favorite shade after all.”

His grin widens. “Yeah?”

You nod and press one last, perfect kiss to the corner of his mouth.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

If you’re wondering, yes, she wore the glittery rose shade to the wedding! And yes, Matt looked smug the entire time! 💞

I got inspired by the pictured Archie comics scene! 💖

✨Hope you enjoyed! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome!✨

[ladywithfear]

KAFKA

pairing | matt murdock x reader

summary | matt made the mistake of telling you how loud electricity is—now Franz Kafka's invaded your thoughts

warnings | mention of bugs, domestic matt, reader and foggy are totally besties, no beta so if there's an error just kick me in the face

word count | 700+

Sometime after you moved in together, Matt told you how electricity buzzed. 

“Like a bug in your ear,” he said. 

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. Living in a world where you could never escape something so constant, so pestilent. 

Which is exactly why you spiraled. 

“Honey, relax.” Matt laughed as you bombarded him with rapid-fire questions about how loud everything was: the TV, the Keurig, your phone charger by the bed. “I’ve dealt with it most of my life,” he assured you. “I can tune it out most days.” 

Great! Fine. Dandy, even! 

Except it actually wasn’t great, fine, or dandy. Because while “most days” was objectively better than “no days,” it was still drastically worse than “all days.” 

You didn’t want Matt to just ignore the buzz. 

You wanted it to stop. 

But, since he lovingly asked you to, you dropped it. Let him shift the topic to his day at work—how Karen kept burning the coffee and Foggy had gone full mother hen, nagging him about setting up a doctor’s appointment for that kink in his lower back (which turned into you nagging him, too). 

Knowledge of the buzz lingered, though. Festered in the back of your mind like a scab you couldn’t quite reach, desperate to pick. 

It became an obsession. Then a complex. 

Eventually, you couldn’t even turn on a light without going full Kafka, envisioning some giant bug that you set loose skittering around your boyfriend’s head. 

So, you did what any normal person would. 

You got rid of your lights. 

In a single afternoon, you traded all your lamps for beeswax candles, unscrewed the bulbs from every overhead light, and replaced your nightlight with a heaping dose of Grow The Hell Up.  

By the time Matt got off work, you were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. A certain giddiness flooded your veins as you heard his key turn in the lock. Again, you wanted to bombard him with questions. Did he notice a difference? Had the world finally gone quiet? 

But you held your eager tongue. 

Matt took off his shoes, loosening his tie as he came up behind you at the stove. You were stirring a pot, biting your lip to keep from grinning as strong arms slipped around your waist. Between chaste cheek kisses, he mumbled his usual greetings. Did you have a nice day?—a devilish curve of his lips—Did you miss me? 

It wasn’t until several moments later, when you asked him to pull some plates down from the cabinet, that Matt stopped and tilted his head. 

Bemused, he asked, “Are you cooking in the dark?” 

You loudly objected. Not just because you really weren’t, but because Matt’s mouth didn’t always have an off-switch around his best friend, and cooking in the dark was the sort of breach in Kitchen Safety 101 that would send Foggy—with whom you’d recently Grouponed a beginner’s culinary class—into cardiac arrest. 

“I have candles,” you assured him. “And the billboard!” 

Oh, the billboard… The one hitch in your pursuit of silence. 

Posted right outside your apartment, the big digital billboard shined through the windows day and night, painting your living room like a technicolor dreamland. You used to not mind it—maybe even liked it, once. But ever since the buzz-talk, all you could think was how loud something like that must be to Matt’s hyper-sensitive ears. 

Disregarding plates and dinner, Matt held a hand out in your direction. You took it, letting him pull you in for a hug. 

You melted into him. He smelled like soap and city streets, like salvation and eternal spring. 

Matt kissed your forehead. Once, twice—a third time to prove you were real, here, his. “I love that you care so much—” another kiss, on the tip of your nose this time “—I love you,” he said. “But I don’t expect you to live your whole life in the dark.” 

He wasn’t talking about lamps or nightlights, you knew, but real darkness. A soul tangled in sin. A man with the devil inside him. 

But when you looked at Matt, you saw none of that. 

All you saw was light. 

All you heard was a sweet, calming buzz. 

“I won’t,” you promised him, tightening your arms around his waist. “Not as long as I have you.”

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

a/n | would you believe me if I said this was originally over 3k and a frank fic? (istg, matt is always losing his girl to frank in my writing.) but it pissed me off, so I decided to keep it short and let matt be happy for once in his life.

anyways, thanks for reading! I'm gonna go write about mighty ducks now

<3

[ladywithfear]

[ladywithfear]

may i get a domestic blurb with matt murdock and prompt 21: "potted herb plants lined up on a windowsill" pls? this man somehow still has me in a chokehold lol

Matt’s making lunch, a pesto pasta that you’d been begging him for since you got your basil plant.

It’s sitting on the windowsill right over your sink, in partial view of the sun.

Matt’s got soft music playing as he dices garlic and onions finely.

“Matty,” you’re sat on the counter next to him, legs swinging as you watch him cook.

He’s in sweatpants and a plain black t shirt, and something about it makes him look even more handsome. You couldn’t keep your hands off him, and that’s why he has you sitting on the kitchen counter with your hands under your thighs.

“Yes sweetheart,” he raises his head for a second, smiling when he hears you tip your head to the side.

“I want to help you.”

Matt shakes his head, “No, you want to touch me and I want to make you a nice lunch.” Matt laughs when your heels slam into the cupboards beneath them.

“That’s no fair.”

He hums, reaching behind him for the basil. “Oh it’s not? It’s so terrible that I want to make sure my girlfriend who gets hangry eats a nice lunch and takes a nap?”

The pout in your voice is unmistakable, “I’m not a baby.”

Matt shakes his head, a little condescending when he mutters, “No you’re not, sweetheart. You just get a little sensitive to not eating on time.”

Matt kisses you before you can offer any sort of rebuttal, the moment your hands fly to his hair, he pulls away. “No fair Matthew.”

“Oh poor girl,” he starts plucking leaves off the basil plant. “How’re the other plants looking, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes. “They’re fine,” then you dip at your waist to catch Matt’s gaze, you know he can feel you moving around. “I want another kiss.”

“When I’m finished making the pesto you can get as many kisses as you like.”

[ladywithfear]

Matt Murdock’s mouth appreciation - [4/??]

[ladywithfear]

Charlie Cox as Mr. Teacher in FX's 'Adults' 🤤 (be warned the video may cause spotaneous combustion)

[ladywithfear]

Ok ok I’m exhausted so this might be worded weird but 🍑 Matt + toys what do we think how would he like using them on reader

ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok em i’m so sorry this took me a hot minute but I had RUMINATE on this thot cuz like 👁🫦👁

and then I had a spark of inspo and here we are….enjoy! and thank u for ur thots 😏

good vibrations - matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: hahaahahahaaha use of toys, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit) and matt as per usual in my fics has a dirty mouth I regret NOTHING

(I don’t remember where I got this gif from I AM SORRY but it’s perfect)

Matt can hear it the second he steps through the door.

It makes his ears twitch, the buzzing noise almost echoing through his brain as he lets the door to the roof shut quietly behind him. It’s late, very late, and he doesn’t want to wake you, but as he steps down onto the first landing, he has a feeling he’s doing anything but.

He whispers your name, calling you softly, but the only response he gets is more buzzing, the shifting of bedsheets, and a heavy breath falling out of you. Fabric shifts further, the sound he knows to be the silk grazing against your bare legs, and then the scent of your floods his nose, making his tongue dart between his lips to taste it on the air. 

Oh.

Instantly, he’s half-hard in his tac pants, boots nearly slipping against the steps as he barrels down them, hands on the railing and the wall to guide him down the stairs. He’s already yanking the black mask from his head, tossing it to the side as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

He hasn’t even hit the bedroom doorway when he hears the pattern of the vibrations change, more staccato, wavering through the air a different way now, and he hears the change in your breath with it, your heartbeat racing as he grows nearer.

But then he hears something else.

“Oh, fuck, Matt, baby.” A pause, a rasped breath, the sound of nails dragging against skin. “Oh my god.”

He’s yanking his boots off now, not caring where they thump to the ground as he tosses them away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, announcing his presence so he doesn’t startle you too hard. He still hears the surprised pick-up in your heartbeat, a gasp sucked down your throat as he sheds his pants, crossing the room quickly and kneeling at the edge of the bed. Matt wraps one hand around your bare thigh, digits pressing in just enough that he can feel the rush of your blood beneath your skin. He cocks his head to the side, settling himself between your legs, and reaches out his other hand, closing it lightly around your still moving wrist. “What do we have here?”

“I…” you start, trailing off as the vibration hits you in just the right way. Matt can feel your back arch off the bed, feels the muscle in your thigh tense in his grip. “Fuck.”

You keen the curse, your head pressing into the pillow, and yeah, he’s fully hard now, straining against the tight fabric of his underwear. Matt bites his lip, waits for you to drag the toy back out until your wrist creeps closer to his, and then he strikes.

He lets go of your thigh, pulls your hand away and grips the vibrator. He leans up over you, planting his free hand beside your head, and leans down as he plunges the toy into you, growling at the way your hands immediately latch onto his back, nails digging in. His mouth is right by your ear, tip of his tongue dragging along your neck. “You just couldn’t wait for me, hmm?” He starts thrusting the toy, feeling your heavy breaths against his shoulder. “But you were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

You nod, your eyes squeezed shut, legs tensing where they’re spread wide by his thighs. Matt grins, kissing the space below your ear as you start to convulse, every muscle going taut, hands gripping him tightly as your body arches up into his, hips chasing his hand as he controls the toy. His tongue moves against your pulse, tasting the salt on your skin, feeling your blood thump wildly.

Your grip on his shoulders is like an iron vice, but he still manages to drag himself down, kissing your bare body as he goes. You’re completely naked, twisted in his sheets, and it makes his cock harder at the thought of you waiting like this for him, but that you just couldn’t wait for him to fuck you, had to depend on your own imagination and the toy between your legs to bring you your pleasure.

He’s gotta rectify that.

“Matt.” You suck in a breath that turns into a squeak as his face comes level with your pussy, tongue darting between his lips, and he presses a soft kiss to your clit, listening for that hitch in your breath before he lifts his other hand, spreading you wide. The buzzing between your legs almost overwhelms him, but the scent and taste of you more than make up for it. You’ve drenched the toy, and he lets his tongue graze the silicone more than once, the feeling like electricity on his tastebuds, but followed by the familiar taste of you that makes his eyes roll back in his head.

He closes his lips around your clit and moves the toy in unison with his tongue, laving it across the sensitive bud with every thrust. Your legs spread wider, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, and you’re heaving breaths now, breasts bouncing with every inhale and exhale. His free hand moves up to cover one, your nipple pinched between his knuckles, and he squeezes slightly as your legs tighten around his head.

“Matt, please,” you call, and he just nods, humming against you, instinctively knowing that the extra vibration will send you catapulting over the edge you’re dangling off. He pushes the toy deep at the same time, pinches your nipple, and that’s all it takes.

Listening to you cum, feeling the way it moves through your body like molasses, it makes him wish to God that he could see. Could see the way your face contorts with pleasure, lips parted or your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He wishes he could see the blush rise in your cheeks, the sweat dripping down your neck, the way your eyelashes flutter and your eyes roll back. He’s felt all these things, in one way or another, but God, he wishes he could see them.

He keeps up his ministrations, groaning against your clit as he feels you flood the toy with your release, hands pulling at his hair hard enough to hurt but he doesn’t care. He likes it, feeds off it, has to push his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pressure building in his own body. You smell incredible, the thick scent of you surrounding him, filling the room, and all of his nerves are at attention.

Matt can’t wait anymore.

You make a little mewling sound as he pulls the toy from you, leaning down to drag his tongue across your entrance before he leans up on his knees, pushing his briefs down over his ass, just enough to get his cock free. Then he’s leaning over you again, dragging the tip of his cock against you. “You gonna cum on my cock now, sweetheart?” he asks, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss. You moan into his mouth, one hand sliding down his back until you can grab a handful of his ass. “I need you so bad.”

“Yes, Matt,” you gasp, nudging your nose along his. “Please, I want your cock.”

He thrusts in without any further warning, jaw dropping as he goes, filling you to the hilt in one shot. You’re so wet, the tightness still there but your intense orgasm just makes it easier for him to slide into your warmth. And God, you’re warm. He’s surrounded by you, the feel of your skin and the taste of your cum and the scent of you still lingering in his nose. He’s never wanted anything as badly as he wants you.

He’s not going to last very long and he knows it, but he has to make you cum first. He has to feel you squeeze his cock like you’d squeezed the toy. He needs it.

Blindly, he reaches for the toy, towards the end of the bed where he’d left it. You mewl at the loss of his mouth against yours, hands reaching for him, but then he clicks the toy back to life, grinning down at you. “Legs wide, baby,” he tells you, curling one hand around your thigh and pushing it back. You hook your own hand around your other leg, pulling it back to match, and Matt sucks in a breath as he places the toy against you again, right at your clit.

He’s never heard you make a noise like that before.

He’s not even quite sure what to call it, a groan or a gasp or a whimper or a moan. His name is mixed within the noise somewhere, and he can hear you clawing at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric like a lifeline.

Then he starts to move, and that’s it, game over. But fuck, if he doesn’t love winning this game.

It must be because you’re so sensitive from the first orgasm, because he’s never had you cumming this fast twice in a row. You’re on another level, back bowed, head thrashing against the pillow, legs trying to snap together but getting caught on his hips. And he doesn’t stop thrusting, the room filled with the sound of the front of his thighs hitting the backs of yours, the wet slide of his cock in your pussy, and the deep buzz of the vibrator. It’s heavenly in the most debauched way, and Matt can feel himself teetering on the edge, heat crawling up his spine in that familiar dance that only your body seems to know the steps to.

He lets the toy move lower, until the vibrations are hitting both your clit and his shaft, and he cums so hard his mind goes blank. He topples over you, hips still stuttering, the toy trapped between you, tantalizing you both. He’s pretty sure you cum a third time from the way your whole body tightens around him, pussy gripping his cock, and you pull him against you, face pressed into his neck, rasping his name. His whole body is shaking, the vibrations prolonging everything he’s feeling, every nerve sparking in response over and over again.

Finally, neither of you can take anymore, and you reach a hand between your now sweat-soaked bodies, clicking the toy off and tossing it to the side. Matt slumps against you, careful not to drop all his weight on you, and you push a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead, leaning in to kiss him softly. “That was unexpected,” you murmur, still catching your breath.

The corner of his mouth quirks in a grin, lips chasing yours to kiss you again. “You and I might need to take a field trip.”

“Field trip?” you repeat, and he chuckles at the confusion in your voice. 

“There’s a sex shop three blocks from here, isn’t there?”

You bark a laugh, kissing him again, running your hand through his hair. “That could be arranged.”

—————

matt murdock tags: @saintmurd0ck @lazyxsquirrel @moonlarking @mindidjarin @freshabogados @steadyasthe-flowers @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10 @plutoneu @grounderprincesslookspissed @hellskitchenswhore @hoewkeyesblue @simple_lovebot @glowstick-lesbian @itwasthereaminuteago @williamjzanders @e-dubbc11 @lunarpenumbra @minxsblog @bluestuesday @eatommo @a-zterisk @randomwords3000 @i-simp-much @kirsteng42 @loonymagizoologist @pariahsparadise @greeneyedblondie44 @sparklysandstorm @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7

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[ladywithfear]

the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids. 

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.” 

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them. 

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen. 

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button. 

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit. 

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs. 

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms. 

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared. 

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.   

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot. 

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue. 

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip. 

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?” 

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more. 

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt. 

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you. 

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees. 

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north. 

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips. 

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge. 

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core. 

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head. 

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull. 

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?” 

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. 

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants. 

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk. 

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.” 

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high. 

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity. 

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.  

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his. 

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you. 

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick. 

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. 

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion. 

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise. 

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width. 

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge. 

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths. 

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.” 

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen. 

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be. 

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.” 

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?” 

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in. 

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you. 

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud. 

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again. 

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ladywithfear]

Hands Off

Pairing: Husband!Dean x Wife!You

Summary: Someone crosses a boundary.. You don’t take it too well.

Warnings: Protective reader, fists get thrown, tiny bit of angst—but all ends well, no use of Y/N

A/N: Totally got this idea from Georgie & Mandy’s First Marriage lol.

Dean’s been on a case in a small town for a few days. You wrapped up your own side hustle a day early and decide to surprise him.

The sun’s barely starting to set when you pull into the small gravel lot behind the bar. You spot the Impala right away, parked neatly under a flickering streetlamp, and something in you settles. Just seeing her—it’s like seeing him. Home. You smile, grabbing the takeout bag you brought from his favorite diner three towns over. You’re excited. Giddy, almost. He has no idea you’re coming.

You shoulder the door open and step inside the bar the locals say he’s been hanging around after hours. It’s a small-town dive, nothing fancy. You squint against the hazy orange glow and cigarette smoke. The place is small, worn down, the kind of dive Dean gravitates to. Locals laugh around pool tables, music crackling low from a dusty jukebox. Your eyes scan the room.

And then you see him.

He’s at the far end of the bar, leaning casually against the counter. Flannel sleeves rolled up, forearm flexed as he sips from a bottle of beer. He looks relaxed. Safe. Yours.

You take a step forward—and that’s when you see her.

Blonde. Tight jeans. She’s leaning in too close, pressing one manicured hand on the bar next to his. She’s saying something—flirty, bold—and Dean gives her that polite, lopsided half-smile. Nothing flirtatious, just the kind of small talk he’s always too kind to shut down cold.

But then.

She grabs his face.

And kisses him.

Everything inside you stops.

Dean stiffens instantly. His eyes fly wide. He jerks back a second later, hands rising, pushing her off. His voice echoes, rough and angry. “What the hell?!”

But you don’t hear the rest.

Your boots hit the floor hard, steady, and furious. The bag of food drops from your hand, forgotten, the smell of burgers and fries already fading as the fire in your chest overtakes everything.

Dean turns at the sound—just in time to see you coming.

“Sweetheart—wait—”

Crack.

Your fist slams into the blonde’s jaw before she can even blink. She stumbles backward with a yelp, crashing into a barstool. A few heads turn. The jukebox skips. And still, no one moves.

Except Dean.

“Sweetheart—”

You spin, rage flashing in your eyes. “Don’t.”

She’s on the floor now, hand over her mouth, wide-eyed and whimpering like the victim.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snarl, stepping toward her. “You think you can just touch someone who doesn’t belong to you? You think you can put your hands on a married man—my husband—and walk away with a damn smile?”

“I didn’t kiss her back,” Dean says from behind you, low, steady. Not defensive—just desperate to make sure you know the truth.

You don’t turn to look at him.

Your voice drops, sharp and lethal. “And that’s the only reason you’re still standing.”

Dean exhales like you just knocked the air out of him. And the blonde? She scrambles up, grabbing her bag off the floor, glaring like you’re the crazy one. “He didn’t say he was married—”

“I didn’t have to,” Dean snaps, finally losing his patience. “I told you I wasn’t interested. You didn’t listen.”

You step toward her once more, a smirk curling your lips. “You ever come near him again, I’ll break more than your pride.”

She flees.

Dean just stands there, watching you, chest rising and falling like he’s been holding his breath this whole damn time.

You finally turn to him. “You good?”

“I should be asking you that.”

You don’t answer right away. You just look at him. The way his brows are furrowed, how tense he is—not with guilt, but fear. Fear of what this looked like. Fear of what you might think. Fear of losing you.

“I knew you didn’t kiss her back,” you say softly. “You looked like you’d rather be shot.”

His mouth twitches, almost a smile—but it doesn’t make it. “I didn’t even see her coming.”

You sigh and shake your head, adrenaline still humming beneath your skin. “I swear to God, babe… next time some bitch throws herself at you, just duck. Or yell for backup.”

He huffs a laugh, stepping closer. “You always this protective, sweetheart?”

You arch a brow. “You wanna test me?”

He grabs your waist gently, tugging you against him. “Not unless it ends with you pinning me down somewhere.”

You don’t smile—but your lips brush his just barely, and your voice drops low, soft and dangerous.

“Later. Right now, we’re going back to your room—and you’re gonna make me forget the last ten minutes ever happened.”

Dean’s breath catches. His hands tense on your hips, jaw working like he’s fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder and skip the walk.

He nods, breathless. “Yes, ma’am.”

And then he kisses you like he never wants another woman to breathe the same air as him again.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts. I’m actually working on my first series (different concept than this one shot), will be dropping part one soon—excited for you guys to read it!