#Matt murdock x reader

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease. 

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye. 

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt. 

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask? 

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you. 

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?” 

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem. 

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate. 

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her. 

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can. 

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS. 

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too. 

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse. 

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes. 

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing. 

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life. 

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room. 

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there. 

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped. 

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply. 

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte. 

But you don’t. 

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid. 

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake.  The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted.  So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers. 

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are. 

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring. 

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?” 

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.” 

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more. 

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.” 

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night. 

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.” 

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips. 

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response. 

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse. 

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning. 

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way. 

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it. 

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it. 

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all. 

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down. 

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you. 

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now. 

“What is it, sweetie?” 

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile. 

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck. 

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you. 

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you. 

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek. 

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can. 

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up. 

You can’t get to Minnie. 

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.  

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts. 

“DADDY!” 

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter. 

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[him-discover-say]

https://rebecca-073.mjcyd.asia/ay/GxCctHj

[siampie]

Risk and Reward||Chapter 5: Starving

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and Matt are slowly finding your rhythm and you can’t get enough of one another.    

Warnings/tags: fluff, idiots in love, childhood trauma

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter, just enjoy people. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @abbyhaslongshorts, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705;

@ebathory997,

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you

Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo

By the way, right away, you do things to my body

I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you

“It’s not like that.” You sighed into the phone.

“No, no—It is like that.” Amelia retorted. You could picture her shaking her head, in mock disappointment. “Now that you have a boyfriend, you’re abandoning me at lunch time. So, you can eat with him. You’re choosing him over me.”

“Why are you so dramatic? We ate together yesterday.” You groaned as you stepped into the coffee shop, nearest to Matt’s office. “And I wouldn’t call Matt ‘my boyfriend,’ we haven’t decided on labels, yet.”

“What do you mean you haven’t decided on labels, yet?” Amelia questioned.  

You rolled your eyes. You placed your orders, and moved to the side to wait for it. “We have been on only one date so far. So, no, there hadn’t been any talks about labels. We’re just—”

“Ah, young love.” Amelia sighed dreamily. “You know what, I forgive you. Go get your man, Babe.”

“And I’m the weird one.” You chuckled.

You and Matt had been on your first date almost a week ago. And you had not seen much of each other since. Keeping in contact through texts and calls. You had not been able to forget about the feel of his lips against yours. Or his calloused fingers on your skin. Matt did not know you were joining him for lunch. You wanted to keep it a surprise. You only hoped it would be a good one.

You pushed the door to Nelson, Murdock and Page lawfirm opened and was met with a quite busy waiting room. It seemed you couldn’t have chosen a worse day to show up unannounced. The door to Foggy’s office opened as he let out a client. You moved away from the door as Foggy walked his client to the door. He sent a quick smile your way while doing so.

He clasped his hands, grinning at you. “Tell me those are for us?” He said pointing at the paper bag in your hands.

“In fact, they are.” You smiled back at him. “Special delivery of bagels and coffee. I also brought some lunch for you, guys.”

He took the bag from you, opened it and smelled the contents. The tension in his shoulders releasing greatly. “You’re a life saver.”

“Not really.” You chuckled, waving him off.

“Ah, I see. You’re here for your lover boy.” Foggy teased you.

“I was hoping but—I can see you, guys, are pretty busy.” You replied quickly. “I should—leave you to it.” You said your hand moving to the doorknob, disappointed that you didn’t get to see him. “Could you—?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” Foggy pulled you away from the door and into the small kitchen. “I’ll tell Matt you’re here.”

“Foggy, you don’t have to.” You stopped him. “I can come at another time or call him. You don’t need to—”

“You came all this way; you can’t just leave like that.” Foggy said. “I’m sure Matt can spare a few minutes for his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” You repeated.

“Hey,” Karen came to join you in the kitchenette. “I didn’t know you were coming,” She smiled at you.

“I was trying to surprise Matt.” You nodded.

“And she brought coffee.” Foggy said handing her a cup.

“Thank God!” Karen sipped from her cup. “I really needed that.”

“That bad, uh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Okay, I’ll let Matt know you’re here.” Foggy touched your arm briefly. “And then, I’ll go back into the fray.”

“Thanks.” You smiled at him. “See ya.” You turned to Karen; she was savoring her coffee. “Is it always that busy?”

“Not always.” Karen shook her head. “But some days are busier than others.”

“I can see that.” You hummed. “I mean at least it’s good for business, right?”

“Well, it’s mostly pro-bono work;” Karen explained. “But yeah, lately, we’ve had more paying clients.”

“Sweetheart?” Matt stepped in the kitchenette.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes on him. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. His charming smile split his face in two. And you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“Hi, Matthew.” You greeted, his hand already reaching out to you. You placed your hand in his reaching one.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two alone.” Karen resting a hand against Matt’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “And thanks again for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You brought coffee?” Matt questioned.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You placed a cup in his hands.

Matt took a sniff of the coffee. “Thank you, you’re a savior.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just coffee.” You turned to the table. “And lunch.” Matt took a sip. “You can have it as soon as you have a minute to yourself.”

“How did you know that—uh—we—?”

“I didn’t.” You shook your head. “I was just hoping to surprise you for lunch. But I see now that I should have probably called first.” You dropped your gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” His hand went up and down your arm as he stepped closer. “It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you had.”

“Still, I should have called anyway.” You turned your gaze back on his face.

His free hand cupped your face, his calloused fingers ever so gentle. Standing so close to him, his scent wrapped around you. He smelled slightly of salt, much more like sweat, and of cinnamon. You couldn’t decide it was his natural scent or a perfume he wore.

A smile slowly made its way onto his face. “I’m glad you came.” His lips met your cheek in a soft peck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Your own smile mirroring his, once more. Your eyes landed on the people waiting behind him. And cleared your throat. “I should let you get back to work. People are waiting.”

Matt nodded, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. You leant into his touch. “I’m really glad you came.” He said, your hand rested on his wrist. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have lunch together.”

“It’s okay.” You retorted. “We can have lunch at another time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You nodded with a grin.

He put his cup down and pulled you into his arms. His nose buried in the crook of your neck, as yours did his. You inhaled deeply, his scent invading your senses now. Under the stronger fragrances of salt and cinnamon, there was a light touch of leather. You reluctantly pulled away from him.

You spoke. “Talk to you later?”

“Sure.” Matt agreed.

“See you later, Matty.” You smiled at him one last time before walking out.

It wasn’t a total disappointment. Although, you didn’t get to spent your lunch with him, you did get to see him. And that was everything you were truly hoping for.

Your visit had indeed surprised him, in the best way. Since their office had opened that morning, he had not stopped. Between appointments with clients on current affairs, or the new clients coming in for councils, they had not had a minute for themselves. The sweet sound of your voice had eased the tension in his shoulders greatly. He had tried not to rush his appointment with his client but he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend a few minutes with you.

He heard your breath hitched when you laid eyes on him, how your heart had sped up when he stepped closer. He felt how you leaned into his touch. The way you reacted to him never failed to fascinate him. And he couldn’t wait to see how well you responded to his touch and more.

The touch of lavender and citrus in your scent had been stronger. There were traces of salt, in your scent, from your sweating. Breathing in your smell had relaxed him even further. And of course, he couldn’t resist hugging you and burying his nose in your neck. He couldn’t resist breathing more of your scent.

Your scent had lingered long after you left their office. The hints of lavender and citrus had gotten stuck in the small hairs in his nostrils. Each time, he inhaled he could smell you. You had been a welcomed distraction and a small reprieve in this hectic day.

“Matt?” Foggy had called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Matt retorted with a frown.

“So, what do you say?” Foggy asked him.

“About?”

Foggy and Karen glanced at each other smirking. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

“Of course not, Foggy. He’s too busy thinking about our visitor.” Karen joked.

Matt chuckled lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t.” The air shifted around Karen as she nodded, swallowing her food. “It’s a miracle you got any work done after her visit.”

“Speaking the truth as always, Miss Page.” Foggy agreed.

“Is she now?” Matt smirked.

“Look, buddy, I’ve seen you with a lot of women in the past. And God knows there were many,” Karen rolled her eyes at his statement. “But I’ve never seen you smile so much since you met her.” He turned to Karen quickly. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Karen waved him off. “Foggy’s right, though. Looks like you really like her.”

Matt smiled fondly. “I do. A lot, actually.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, buddy.” Foggy slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks Fog.”

“And are you gonna tell her about Daredevil?” Karen questioned cautiously.

“Oof.” He puffed out, leaning back in his chair. “The thought had crossed my mind but—um—I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not now anyway.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning; I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

This relationship was new still. And he did like you but he needed to know you more. He needed to know that he could trust you with his heart. It had been through so much already. So many losses. He needed to be sure about his feelings and yours. If he ever was to tell you about his nightly activities, he needed to make sure you were in it for the long run.

The Devil wasn’t just something he became at night, to fight crimes. The Devil was a part of him. Something he needed to be. And that knowledge alone wasn’t readily accepted by those surrounding him. Knowing all of him had put his friends in danger in the past. Knowing all of him wasn’t safe.  

Would he really share this part of him with you? Was he really willing to risk your safety?

Your attempt to surprise Matt had been a sign, you thought. Maybe, it was too early in your relationship with Matt for this sort of gestures. It was sweet but it might be seen as a sign of clinginess by others. In your past relationships, you either was the one who felt too much or the one who didn’t feel enough. There were no in-betweens for you. In either case, the relationship had ended because of you. You had been broken up with because you were too much. Because you loved too much. And you had broken up with others because you couldn’t feel the sparks. Because you felt nothing but indifference. The relationship just didn’t do it for you. In either case, you were the bad guy.

You did not wish a repeat of this pattern with Matt. You really wanted to know where this thing between the two of you could go. He had not seemed put off by your attempt, you tried to reason yourself. He had actually admitted to missing you. Just as you did him. Maybe, Matt was the kind of person that could feel as intensely as you did. Or at least you hoped so.

His dark frames were laying on the table beside his wine glass. A second date had been set up by Matt within that same week, he had taken you to a small Italian restaurant. The place was buzzing with people; laughing and chattering away. You were both wrapped in the delicious smell of the food.

Matt had looked dashing as always. Your eyes couldn’t leave his face once, especially after he had taken his glasses off. His sightless eyes seemed to always fall somewhere around your collarbone. The conversations ever so flowing between you. And if it did become quiet, it was never uncomfortable. And that was your favorite thing so far with Matt. You didn’t feel as though you needed to say anything to fill the silence. It wasn’t needed. Matt seemed to be content with it, as much as you were.

“You tested it out?” Matt asked you in disbelief.

“Listen, you don’t tell your children that sort of things and hope for the best.” You retorted. “I mean what did he expect?”

“Not for you to try it out, I guess.”

“True.” You nodded. “Anyway, my brothers and I went in the park by our house and decided to do it. We climbed the tallest tree we could. And jumped.”

“And?” Matt smiled at you.

“I can’t speak for my brothers, but I landed on my toes. And didn’t break any bones.” You shrugged. “I’d say my father was right about that one.”

“Realistically, how tall was the tallest tree?” Matt teased you.

“Probably thirty-five feet at least. Forty-five at most.” You replied; “And we didn’t actually climb that high. Still, we were kids and it was really high for us at the time.” You winced at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, that was loud.” You apologized quietly, looking around you nervously.

“Don’t apologize.” Matt shook his head; his smile had shifted into something softer and affectionate. “I quite like the sound of your voice.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You do?”

“I do.” He nodded; leaning his arms on the table. “Your voice always sounds beautiful and—uh—gentle. It’s how I see you. And—um—you have a way to make things easier when it gets too loud.”

Your heart raced beneath your ribcage; your breath caught in your throat. You were totally disarmed by the simplicity and the beauty with which it was delivered. His words were genuine, which you knew by now, was his personality trait. His words made you feel important, they made you feel—

“How do you keep on doing this?” You said under your breath.

“Doing what?” He leaned closer.

“I don’t know, you—uh—you have a way to take my breath away.” You quietly admitted. “To make me feel—seen, somehow.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He questioned.

“No, it’s not—it’s just—uhm—” You paused.

“What?” He encouraged you.

“No one has ever made feel quite like that before.” You let out breathless.  

His smile dropped slightly; and he reached over for your hand, weaving his fingers with yours. “Well, I do. I see you. In my own way, of course but—I see you.”

Being seen meant being important. Matt Murdock was blind. But he saw you, in spite of that. Better than some. And that was why you were more willing to believe him. He had no reasons to lie. Every word coming out of his mouth, complimenting you, were disarmingly honest. Which made it really hard not to get overly attached so quickly. And that was terrifying.

The way you felt about him was something you never quite experienced before. Matt Murdock might have already ruined you. Because you didn’t think you could settle for anything less after this. You didn’t want to.

At the foot of your building, Matt and you were reluctant to part ways. Your arms have found their way around his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist. His nose brushed against yours.

“I really enjoyed tonight.” He whispered while your fingers grazed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Me too.” You smiled, your breath fanning over his lips. “Very.”

He grinned before his lips brushed against yours. Butterflies burst into your stomach; your heart hammered in your chest. You were convinced that Matt could feel it through his shirt. One of your hands travelled down his spine, stopping at the small of his back, pulling him into you. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. His arms tightened around you, his hands moving along your spine. Lingering, as a moan made its way out of his lips. The sound made your heated core ache for more of it, eliciting a groan out of you.

You reluctantly pulled away from him, breathless, his lips chasing yours. “That was—”

“Hot?” He supplied, cupping your face. His fingers grazed the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulsing point.

“Yeah,” You breathed out. “We should probably—”

“Yeah, we should.” His nose brushed yours.

“I don’t—I really want to—" His lips brushed yours briefly. “Believe me,” You exhaled a shaky breath. “But I just don’t want to rush things.”

His mouth connected with yours once again, in a sweet and small kiss. “It’s okay.” He pulled back slightly. “We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere.” His words sounding like a promise.

“Good to hear.”

No woman had truly made him weak at the knees, quite like you had done that night. The smell of your arousal in the air, the way you had pulled him against you. The way you had briefly taken control had left him breathless and wanting more of it. More of this side of you.

Matt considered himself as someone who had the ability to ruin the good things in his life. No matter how hard he tried to protect them, disaster found its way to them. And he didn’t want disaster to find its way to you. He knew he wouldn’t last though. Not if he decided to let you know about the Devil. This could wait however. Most of all, he wanted you to feel safe with him, and to trust him. He’d give you the time you needed.

Friday nights at Josie’s were something you always was looking forward to. Especially if you needed to unwind after a long week. And—you got to spent more time with Matt. There had been a few more dates in the following weeks. Matt and you were starting to find your rhythm with one another. You had not spoken about labels yet but you were fine with it.

Your naked thigh pressed against his, one of his hands had slipped down to rest on your bare thigh. Throughout the night, his hand would affectionately squeeze your leg under the table. You laced your arm with his, pecking his clothed shoulder. You never thought of yourself as a very tactile person. Growing up, your father had not shown affection much. There were no hugs, no kisses. Nothing. So, of course, over the years it had not come easily.  You had thought of yourself as someone who couldn’t stand the touch of another person. And there had been moments when you did recoil at someone else’s touch. Only because you barely knew them, and they did make you uncomfortable. But you would soon find that you were, in spite of your beliefs, a very tactile person.

Or maybe it was simply a consequence of being touch starved. And now you were seeking affections in any way possible. Only if you were allowed to. Not everyone was comfortable with touch. Your sister didn’t like hugs, neither did your best friend. The only way for you to receive a hug from them, was for them to initiate it. Otherwise, they would push you away.

You weren’t afraid to be tactile with Matt. It seemed he was craving the affection as much as you had. A smile always making its way onto his face, anytime you did. As though he was taking pride in your being comfortable enough to do so.

You took a deep breath outside of Josie’s bar. You had a couple of beers in you, feeling slightly tipsy. You said your goodbyes to your friends as you parted ways on the sidewalk. You laced your arm with his as you started towards your apartment building.

“I have a question.” You said after a few minutes. Matt hummed softly, his cane tapping along on the sidewalk. “Are we girlfriend and boyfriend?” You looked up to him.

“Do you want us to be?” Matt questioned, coming to a stop.

You turned to face him and stepped closer, your arms encircling his middle. “Yes. I’d like to introduce you as more than just a guy I’m seeing.” A boyish grin appeared on Matt’s face. “I want you to be my boyfriend. And I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

He cupped your face, looking through you affectionately. “I’d like that too.”

“Yeah?” You grinned, tightening your arms around him.

He leaned down towards you, gently cradling your face as he closed the distance. “Yeah.” His lips met yours in a soft kiss.

“Would you—um, like to stay over tonight?” You asked once you pulled away.

Matt would love for nothing more. He knew what you were hoping for, he wanted the same thing. However, he still needed to go out as Daredevil. Something, you had yet to know about.

“Not tonight.” He said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Oh,”

You felt the pang of disappointment, the sting of rejection. You tried to reason that maybe he wasn’t ready. That he probably wanted to wait for a better time, make it special maybe. You tried to reason that there were no reasons for you to feel rejected. Especially right after you both had agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend.   

“Next time, then?”

“Promise.”

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

something about matthew in the black suit but without the mask on, just in that all black outfit with messy hair and a bruised face is making me so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[thatboisus]

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[realangelahernandez]

Go to therapy or read another fan fiction of your favorite fictional character?

[murc0ck]

i know he's fictional but i would love nothing but to devour that man

[fixforthesoul]

OPEN LETTER TO FANFICTION WRITERS ON ACCESSIBILITY; PLEASE READ.

first of all, thank you for spending your time, seldom acknowledged and definitely deserving of a compensation you are not receiving, to entertain us. i’m speaking on behalf of more than just blind readers, but everyone. you’re sick as hell.

i’ve summoned you to provide some information you may not already know. i know a lot of you like fonts. especially those who cross post their work on wattpad. i admire any and all acts of aestheticism to a degree, and can understand the desire to use them. (blind folk, sorry y’all. momma’s making a point.) 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰, it’s cute. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 is a little cuter to me, if i had to choose. or maybe 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈?

now, sighted folk: if you’re on mobile, i implore you to participate in a little exercise for me. select this text and scroll through all the copy/paste/define/‘search the web’ options until you get to the speak portion. if you need to change a setting for your phone to do so, would you mind? i’d really appreciate it.

please make your phone read aloud part of my post, and be sure to include any bits with those super cute fonts. 𝕚’𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖. 𝕚 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕤 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖.

whether you participated and discovered it for yourself or you thought this was a crock of shit you’d rather not sniff, i’ll tell you! screen readers cannot dictate words using those fonts. at least, on a majority of devices. not mine, or any of my mutuals elsewhere.

you do not have to change your behavior on my behalf, but please be aware that fonts limit access to your work.

blind readers do exist, i exist, and i am bound by the same feelings of dogged longing that make other sad horny bitches read angsty, smutty, father-wounded nonsense.

thanks for making it this far. i really hope my sincerity is being conveyed, reading makes me so happy and i’m not the only person on this app who relies on accessibility settings more often than not. do with this information what you will, and have the day you deserve!

[so-far-frogs-and-oscar]

Yeah, I'm fine

*Types "<character name> x reader" into tumblr search bar*

[itscherrylipsforme]

Mom: When I was your age I liked men in their twenties

Aunt: When I was your age I liked men who were around twentyfive

Me rn: ...

Based on a thought I had after having this same conversation during a family dinner

I am open to write for any of them, if someone asks me to do it btw

[ivuhe]

I hate reading a x reader fic (or any fic tbh) where one character is like "big, buff, scary, man" and then "scared, defenseless, innocent girl." ... Like there's a way to write about a masculine character without pushing stereotypes or taking away from them (yk?)

Also, here's my incredible and accurate rendition of how those fics depict the relationships:

[theautomattic]

Matt Murdock scenes that will forever live rent free in my head:

Aggressive undressing + buttons flying everywhere + cross necklace getting yanked + wet look...FOREVER CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY

The grip on the chair + ab flexing + caressing Claire's elbow + the smirk.... A++++ WOULD SMASH

Bedhead + ab flexing + the smirk after replying a lie to Foggy about sleeping with a violent girl....MATT MURDOCK A CONFIRMED FREAK

[chvoswxtch]

taste

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt just wants a taste.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: it’s thanksgiving here today, and despite my mixed feelings about this holiday, I am thankful for all of y’all. so, here’s a little treat from me to you bc I haven’t shown our favorite human disaster some love in awhile. 🖤

word count: 1.1k

Matt lost track of how long he’d had his head buried between your thighs. Your hair was still damp from your shower earlier, fresh notes of citrus and green apple lingering on the silk sheets. That coupled with the crisp sandalwood of his own cologne from the worn Columbia shirt of his you had stolen to bed intertwined with your own distinct scent lit a fire of desire within him. He’d discarded a layer of his black suit with every silent step he took descending the staircase that led up to the rooftop door.

It had been a bad night, and Matt’s inherent Catholic guilt was at an all time high. So, he positioned himself exactly where he thought he belonged.

On his knees.

Matt held your soft thighs in his rough, calloused hands, his warm tongue lazily tumbling over your swollen clit over and over again. He slipped his tongue through your soaked folds much like he had the first time he had really kissed you; when a sweet kiss good night had ended with your back firmly pressed up against your front door and the two of you panting into each other's mouths.

Angelic pleas for mercy had sounded from your lips in various intervals, but your greedy fingers continued to tug him just a little closer by tight grips on his chestnut strands. Neither one of you seemed to be able to quit the other. Matt’s nose was nuzzled against your public bone, and his plump lips were wrapped around your clit, alternating between suckling languidly at a pace that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and dragging his tongue up and down the length of your entire pussy meticulously.

Every time you let out a desperate chant of his name and rolled your hips up in a needy way in search of more, Matt groaned loudly and moved his own hips in tandem. He had been rutting against the mattress for God only knows how long now, the front of his briefs completely soaked from the weeping slit on the head of his throbbing cock. He’d never been so painfully hard in his life.

But Matt didn’t feel like he had earned a release yet.

Despite the several tangy coats of your arousal on his tongue, he wanted more. He needed just a little more.

Just one more, he told himself, then he’d finally let himself fuck you. But right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Face nestled against your pussy, feeling your heartbeat pounding against his welcoming tongue, smelling the scent that was uniquely you right under his nose, hearing the verbal reassurances of how much you needed him, and how badly you wanted him.

Praises of his name and confessions of love slowly lifted the self imposed weight that laid heavy on his chest like cement. If an angel like you believed the Devil deserved Heaven, then maybe he did. You didn’t ask for his penance, but he wanted to give it. He wanted to be worthy of being the man you made him feel like he was.

Matt ignored the ache in his jaw, and he whimpered against your core as his briefs snagged against the sensitive head of his cock just right. He wasn’t gonna last long. Not with the heavenly aroma of you surrounding his senses completely, the sweet sound of your pleasure hitting his ears, the thrum of your impending climax thundering against his tongue.

He never wanted to come up for air. If this was how he was going to die, drowning in the tidal wave of your gratification, then he’d die a happy man.

Matt used his index and middle finger to spread your slicked pussy apart, eagerly swirling his tongue around your pulsing nub before switching to flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across it like a metronome. God, you were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet. He couldn’t tell where his saliva ended and where your own essence started, but he didn’t fucking care. The only taste he wanted seared into his taste buds was yours anyway.

He delved his tongue as deep within your cunt as he could, fucking you with it sensually while his nose bumped against your overstimulated clit repeatedly. You were close again. He could tell by the hitch in your breaths and the quiver in your soft thighs that were enclosed tightly around his head.

Matt never felt like he deserved you, so he made it his personal mission to make sure he earned you.

As soon as another wave of your candied tang drenched his mouth and dripped down his stubbled chin, Matt exploded with a pathetic whimper, feeling his own sticky warmth coating his lower abdomen and the tops of his thighs. The only reason he pulled his face away from your cunt was because you weakly pushed at his shoulders with your trembling hands.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Matty…I can’t. I-God, I need a minute-“

The breathless pants sounding from your lips were an elegant symphony to his ears. He closed his eyes while resting his head on your smooth thigh, trying to catch his own breath. For several minutes neither of you said anything, just laid there tangled up in the sheets together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

All of a sudden, Matt sensed a shift in you. He heard your eyes flutter open, and felt the way you shifted your head off the pillow to peer down at him in curiosity.

“Matty…did…did you-“

“Yeah.”

He didn’t bother hiding it. He wasn’t ashamed. He’d be pissed when the cloud of lust currently fogging up his brain eventually cleared and he realized he ruined yet another set of silk sheets, but right now, he was too satisfied to give a shit about anything other than this moment with you.

A melodic giggle immediately erupted from your chest, and Matt squeezed your thigh teasingly in retaliation which caused you to squeal.

“Hey! I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s actually quite flattering that you enjoy having your head between my thighs so much that you can come from that alone.”

“Sweetheart, you could make me come just by reading our grocery list.”

Another round of angelic giggles fell from your lips, and a quiet whine of disapproval sounded from Matt when he felt you shifting in bed. Much to his dismay, you moved your soft and warm thigh away from under his head, which caused him to purse his plush lips in a pout. But before he could even protest, you were gently pushing him onto his back and brushing your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Maybe I’ll test that theory later, but right now, I’d rather make you come with my mouth in a different way.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @thyme-in-a-bubble @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[foli-vora]

pretty boy

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: This gif should be fucking illegal. There I was, just minding my own business at 12.30am thinking ‘hey I should probably get some sleep’ and then bam—suddenly I was obsessed with needing to suck this man’s dick. So here we are—enjoy.

This is a drabble of 500+ words and I can’t be bothered tagging so yeah.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral sex (m), swallowing, the need to have this man weak and whiny at my fingertips… look, this is probably a mess but idgaf

-

He’s so fucking thick.

An ache is quick to build in your jaw, your mouth straining uncomfortably as his cock disappears beyond your lips. He hits the back of your throat and you inhale sharply to push just that little bit further, to take him deeper, to drive him closer to that sweet edge you’d been teasing him with.

You fight the discomfort eagerly, practically hanging onto every little whine and exhale that falls from his lips. He always sounds so fucking pretty, breathless from being lost in his pleasure and full of praise for every inch you take greedily.

He never knows where to put his hands, and you’d laugh if you didn’t have the solid length of him heavy and throbbing against your tongue.

His fingers trace your cheek, glide over where your lips part around the width of him, swipes through the saliva that gathers at the corner and spills down your chin. They curl around the back of your head, and you tremble from the strength you feel lingering behind his touch, the temptation to hold you steady and fuck up harshly into your mouth almost overcoming his patience.

One day you’d break him. One day. 

His hands move again, quickly coming to rest over yours where they’re spread out across the scarred expanse of his hips, holding him in place. He’s quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking a physical tether to the world as he drowns in an endless void of ecstasy. 

A brief tang of salty precum oozes from the tip of his cock and sinks into your taste buds as you pull back enough to take a breath, and your tongue drags over the smooth head firmly before gently rubbing along the lower side where you feel his frenulum, massaging the spot over and over and over—

He jolts, toned stomach jumping at the sensation and you groan weakly around him, eyes fluttering as he bucks into your mouth. He’s close. You hear it in the way his lips form the plea of sweetheart, the way he helplessly cries out for his God and begs for that little push over the edge.

Please, sweetheart. Just a little more, j-just like that—God, please, yes—

He erupts on your tongue with a flood of thick heat and a delightfully filthy moan that has your weeping cunt clenching from the low obscene rumble of it, and you swear you’ll never get enough.

You swallow it all down eagerly, tongue rolling over the length of him until he finally starts to soften in your mouth and his thighs start to shake from overstimulation. You pull away and let him fall from your lips with a low pop before delivering a final kiss to his thigh and standing. You resume dressing, fingers numb from his tight hold and slow as they try to continue buttoning your shirt as the morning light filters through the window. 

He pants into the air of the bedroom, a blissed out, tired smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he swims in his post orgasm waves, “What was that for?”

“You’re just so damn pretty, Matthew.”