#i feel like the catholics always told me it was either cheek or lips chaste

[chiwhorei]

wick(ed)

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: 2.3k

tags: very, very sacreligious themes, trespassing, (pink) waxplay, blindfolds, bondage, public sex, oral

a/n: this is my contribution to the sewer’s valentine’s day collab: two in the pink, one in the kink. check out everyone else’s pieces here! valentine’s day was on a sunday this year, so as far as sacrelige goes, my hands were tied. this is dedicated to @undermattsun, as all bastardization of the catholic faith should be.

hymn: take me to church by hozier

For there shall be no reward to the evil; the candle of the wicked shall be put out. -Proverbs 24:20

The smell of musty wood and a subtle fog of smoke traps you as soon as you’re guided blindly. From the sound of creaking and the loud slam behind you-- the door you’ve been pulled past is tall and heavy. The sound makes you jump backwards into the body of your captor.

“Dabi, please just tell me where we are. You’re freaking me out.” You try to reason with the man escorting you, careful to ensure you don’t trip as you walk forward into the undisclosed building. You slump forward slightly, every sense trying desperately to piece together what’s covered by satin fabric.

“If I told you where we were, wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?” You let out a shaky huff, Dabi has never been one for romantic displays of affection, so you’re doubtful there’s a bouquet of roses and chocolate written into the night’s activities. You feel his breath fanning in hot puffs against your neck, he’s close enough to graze the shell of your ear.

“And don’t call me Dabi. That isn’t who I am to you when we’re alone,” Your skin prickles at his touch, one arm snaking its way to circle around your neck. He presses his pointer finger and thumb into the skin, dragging the pressure upwards to tilt your chin, “What’s my name, princess?”

Even blindfolded, you can feel the scorch of blue eyes on your face. A warmth that burns if you get too close. No matter how many times Dabi tried to push you away, whether with actions or sharp words, you always remained fireproof.

“I’m sorry, Touya.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, words filling the still secret space around you. Dabi hums, pleased at the way your body is reacting. Without being able to see, you’re sensitive and jumpy. Every sound, every movement, every feeling is amplified.

“Just a little farther, princess.” You lean against his chest, the feeling of rough skin and hard muscles calms the fraying ends of your nerves. You know Dabi-- Touya, he’s not even close to a good person. Under purpled scars and blue flames, he’s still a villain. But you know at least one thing for certain, he would never hurt you.

At least not in ways you wouldn’t like.

Wherever he dragged you probably didn’t come with a formal invitation, that much was obvious in the sounds of metal instruments against what you could assume was a lock. The tight little dress he had “bought” for you does nothing against the cold air assaulting your uncovered skin. Your teeth chatter, skin icey and hyper-sensitive. Dabi notices the way you bristle, and runs his warm hands over your arms. His fingers press into the skin, pushing you forward.

You can feel the drag of carpet under your shoes, the heavy footsteps directly trailing yours are muffled where Dabi’s boots usually stomp loudly. You’re stopped abruptly, his hands finding the fat of your hips, turning you around to face him. Your own come up to brace against his chest, the clamoring in your heart calming slightly at the comforting smell-- sage and freshly struck matches.

Dabi drops his grip onto the skin right below your ass, squeezing slightly as his lips hover over yours. You feel his mouth an inch from you, lifting up on the balls of your feet to connect them. The man above you laughs as you try to catch a kiss like a carrot dangling on a string.

“Hold on tight, kid.” Dabi rewards you a chaste peck before hoisting you up, your legs circle around his waist, instinct guiding where your sight can’t. The overwhelming anticipation for what he has planned ignites in your core. It’s not lost on him, with the damp fabric of your panties pressed right against his abdomen. Dabi can already feel his cock straining in his boxers, pressing obnoxiously against his zipper.

You nuzzle against the crook of Dabi’s neck, careful not to rub against the staples lining his collarbone. He braces you, holding on to your ass tightly as he walks up three short steps.

Rough linen hits the back of your thighs as he sets you down. Your fingers come down to your new perch, crinkling the farblic in your fingers. From what you can feel, it seems like wood covered in some kind of table cloth.

Dabi steps away, his warmth dissipates but you’re still trapped under his stare. From this position, you realize you’re propped up higher than where Dabi stands, His eyes burn in a trail from your face to your slightly parted legs.

“My beautiful girl.” He marvels at where you sit perfectly on display, his voice now loud enough to eccoh against high ceilings. The sound startles you, every inch of skin submerged in a fresh flight of goosebumps.

“Touya, p-please,” Your voice sounds like a stranger’s as it reverberates around the room before it hits your ears. What are you pleading for?

You’re not sure if your begging for less of his torture, or more.

“Patience, princess. Don’t you trust me?” His question is loaded, knowing full well that you absolutely shouldn’t be trusting the villain before you. It’s almost funny how easily he crept into your heart; staking claim on your body, seeping into your blood.

“I trust you, Touya,” Your voice is barely above a whimper, your words feel like a salve dripping down his scarred shoulders, “always.”

He stole your heart, he’s probably ruined you in more ways than either of you would like to admit. But in exchange, unlike anyone who has come before, unlike any other person on the planet-- you have his heart too.

Dabi lets the backpack on his shoulders fall to the ground, you can hear the rustling of whatever he brought with him. He’s quiet as he approaches you again, reaching up to rub his thumb over your lips. Upon the contact, your mouth falls open to capture the digit, closing around it to suck lightly. Your temperance is a stronger hit than any drug Dabi could find.

He pets your cheek before bringing the satin rope in his left hand up to your lap, you feel the soft fabric against the top of your thighs.

“Give me your hands, princess.” Dabi almost coos when you put your wrists together and lift them towards him as an offering.

The silken rope snakes around your wrists, just tight enough so you can’t move them. He sets your hands to lay comfortably back in your lap. You’re now robbed of sight and touch, all you can comfortably do with your hands is fidget with your fingers.

“You’re always so agreeable, kid, shouldn’t you be worried? All alone with a big bad villain.” His words are desperate confirmation, poking at your resolve to see if this will be the time you cry out and demand your freedom back.

“Never.” One word reads like novels, your tone clearly extending past tonight. Not an ounce of duress to be heard even as you bristle with anticipation. It’s true. The touch that no one else has ever found welcoming is one you lean in to.

The hands that could turn buildings to ash have never scared you.

Dabi leans in to capture you in a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in the way he knows will make you gasp. His tongue slides into your now open mouth, desperation pushing in to explore you. Dabi tastes like Seven Stars and mint gum-- you swear the nicotine seeps right into your nerve endings. Fingers tangle into the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders. You jump at the cool air against your exposed chest, nipples hardening immediately. Every new sensation is acute when you aren’t given any forewarning.

His hands come up to either of your cheeks, anchoring himself to the earth. The world seems to stop on its axis when it comes to you. The moment frozen, suspended in time. He would live in your orbit every available moment if you let him.

Dabi snaps out of the spell you have on him at the sharp whine that leaves your lips. His forehead lands against yours, catching each other's unsteady breaths in the small space between you. Dabi looks down to see the way your thighs are rubbing together, laughing lightly at how worked up you’ve become. You can’t see it, but he’s fairing just the same.

“You always submit so sweetly, princess,” Dabi bites your lip with a playful growl, turning away to grab the last of his surprises, “but the fun hasn’t even begun.”

The first notable sound your ears pick up is a light crackle. Your brows crease under the blind, trying to place the small pop and flicker. Dabi brings a small flame towards your body, you can see the smallest outline of blue past the silk barrier covering your eyes.

Flickering fire is an inch from your skin, but you don’t flinch away. When it comes to Dabi, all you ever seem to want is to be closer.

The next thing you notice brings realization crashing against your skin like a bucket of cold water: the smell of a burning wick. All of your senses still available piece together the remaining puzzle. The cold echoing, the feeling of scratchy linen against your ass, the smell of wood and perfumed smoke and candles.

“C-church. You brought me to a--” Your realization is cut off with a sharp prick of heat dripping down your chest. You yelp at the feeling of melted wax trailing around the swell of your breast.

“Clever little girl,” Dabi punctuates each word with another splash of hot wax. It runs down your now sweaty skin and hardens in lines on your exposed chest and stomach, pooling in the bunched up fabric of your dress.

“You look so beautiful like this.” You hang on his words like they’ll save you from the onslaught of a melting candle.

“Please, Touya I--”

But you aren’t begging for mercy. You’re begging for more of his touch, for more of anything he wants to give you, even if it’s searing hot.

“You’re gonna want to see this, kid.” Dabi’s fingers are at the back of your head, loosening the blindfold so it drops around your neck. Even in the dead of night, you wince at the moonlight spilling through large stained glass windows. You look to where Dabi stands before you, a mix of lust and adoration flashes in the blue of his eyes. Your own gaze comes down to the lashes of pink splotching your skin.

“This is definitely your color, princes.” Dabi stares for a moment longer. You look equally angelic and depraved like this, almost naked and glistening in an onslaught of melted pink, positioned like the most holy sacrament. He’ll take you.

Dabi pushes you gently so your back falls against the altar, pulling both legs so they’re propped against the table top and spread for him. Your bound arms fall to lie above your head.

It’s so irrefutably evil-- both the breaking into a place of worship and the sick joy he gets from making you a mess below a god he doesn't believe in. Dabi pulls your panties away, the fabric almost matches the pink he dripped against your overly sensitive skin.

“So wet for me,” he muses, kneeling down to be eye level with your sopping cunt, “you like being on display like this, don’t you.”

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of Dabi’s tongue against your lips, your cunt all but quivers at his attention. Dabi wouldn’t be caught dead in the stiff wooden pews on any given Sunday, but he still kneels before the closest thing to religion he has ever known.

Both of his hands come up to either of your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. There’s no escape from the devil between your legs, there’s nowhere to run from the whip of his wicked tongue.

His pace gives you no time to breath, lapping against your folds like a man dehydrated. Every long swipe against your skin ends in his lips closing around your painfully hard clit to suck harshly. You’re hurtling towards orgasm, twitching in Dabi’s hold.

“Oh fuck, oh my God.” Your chanting of prayer makes Dabi chuckle against the puffy skin, pulling back only slightly to slap your clit with a wet pop.

“Not quite, princess.”

His prodding is relentless, slurping at your pussy with no care to how you’re definitely dripping against the white cloth under you. The knowledge that your arousal is crisiting the altar below you should be mortifying. Instead it’s driving you higher.

Dabi can tell you’re close, the shaking begs for him and the way you clench around his tongue is warning enough. He’s well familiarized with how your body stiffens before the final--

“T-Touya, I’m gonna cum.”

Your warning is almost screamed, muffled only by a series of whimpers. You contract every muscle in your body tightly, it feels like your spine could snap in half before relaxing limply against the wood below you. Your eyes are squeezed shut but fall open as bliss consumes you, your body feels boneless and limp.

The first things your gaze can focus on is the cross behind you, from your position bent over the altar, it’s upside down. You shiver at the blaring symbolism but are quickly pulled from any impending guilt at the feeling of Dabi’s cock against your cunt. All you can, all you want, to do is let him have anything. Body and soul and whatever could exist of you.

As Dabi presses the head in, you welcome him like home. He has to steady himself with a rough grip on your hips as you suck him in inch by thick inch.

God doesn't exist, Dabi thinks to himself.

But he’ll take you like communion.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[crocodilenialledfics]

story page // masterlist // wattpad

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Epilogue 

word count: 1703

warning: This chapter contains smut, 18+ only 

“Stay here all day,” Rosalind murmured against his neck.

“Have to work,” Niall told her, pressing a kiss to her head. “You’ve to work later, too.”

“I know,” Rosalind mumbled but it didn’t stop her for wanted him longer. She wanted more time with him after all the time she’d spent depriving herself of him.

“Maybe I’ll get off early,” Niall offered, beginning to run his fingers through her hair.

“So you think I should call off?” Rosalind asked, looking up at him.

Rosalind rolled over, rubbing her eyes. It was nearing eight in the morning. Niall was off to work soon. Rosalind let her eyes drift over to him, sleeping soundly beside her. It almost made her feel a bit badly to ruin his peace. 

She couldn’t feel badly, though, pulling the duvet off of him. Quietly, she settled herself between his legs. Rosalind palmed at his soft cock and heard him hum. She took it further, pressing wet kisses up his thighs, until she got to where his underwear bunched up. She wanted it off. 

Rosalind thought better of taking his clothes  off. She found herself straddling him to rub up against him. She pressed kisses to his neck and jaw until he let out a soft chuckle, “mornin’ baby.” 

It didn’t take long to feel Niall harden underneath her and she smiled down at him, “good morning.” 

“What have I done to deserve this?” He asked, cheeks flushing. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at her. 

“Felt the urge,” Rosalind explained, rolling her hips against his. She smiled at the contact, eyelashes fluttering. “That okay?”?

“More than,” Niall responded, hands finding her hips to grab onto. 

Rosalind rolled her hips against his one last time before finally pulling Niall’s underwear down to his knees. She didn’t spare a second thought before, sliding him inside of her. And if he wasn’t hard all the way, he was now, by the way Rosalind clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Niall whispered, hands on her hips, holding tight. “I will never get used to the no condom thing.” 

Rosalind secretly hoped that he never would, that this whole baby making thing would last forever and ever. Rosalind leaned over, catching Niall’s lips in a kiss as she rode him, slow agonizing thrusts just to make Niall pout against her lips. 

It was always a ploy. Now, Rosalind hated to be on top and when she was, she’d take Niall slower than ever until he gave in, flipping them over to fuck her good. 

This was no different. Rosalind wasted time on top of him, hips moving only a little, not enough for Niall to be pleased. It took a few more minutes for Niall to flip them over into missionary. Rosalind smiled as her back hit the mattress. And then Niall was back inside her, thrusting in slowly. 

Maybe Rosalind liked to see Niall take control, or maybe she really just hated to be on top now. Either way, Rosalind was satisfied, eyes slipping shut as he thrust into her with the intent she didn’t have when she rode him. 

Though Niall was eager, he wasn’t in a rush, thrusting into her, kissing at her neck. And then a hand between them and he was pressing his finger against her clit just to hear her moan. “Want me to touch you?” Niall asked, nosing along her jaw. 

“Mmm yeah,” Rosalind breathed out, aching for him, “Please.”

Niall was a multitasker, he’d convinced her by the way he thrust into her and could touch her in ways that made her eyes roll back into her head. Rosalind felt her orgasm coming faster than she’d thought it would. She clenched around him, eyes screwing shut. 

Niall bit at her neck, teeth scraping against her sensitive skin and she moaned, a handful of Niall’s hair in her hand. In all the ways they were different, they stayed the same too. 

It wasn’t long before Rosalind was tipping over the edge, gasping out his name. Niall was soon after, cumming inside of her. Rosalind couldn’t help but moan at that, the feeling of maybe this time was it, the one that sealed the deal. 

Niall collapsed beside her, letting out a hum. His eyes fluttered as he looked over to Rosalind. They had matching red cheeks that made Niall smile. He pulled Rosalind in, an arm around her shoulders. 

“Stay here all day,” Rosalind murmured against his neck. 

“Have to work,” Niall told her, pressing a kiss to her head. “You’ve to work later, too.”

“I know,” Rosalind mumbled but it didn’t stop her for wanted him longer. She wanted more time with him after all the time she’d spent depriving herself of him. 

“Maybe I’ll get off early,” Niall offered, beginning to run his fingers through her hair. 

“So you think I should call off?” Rosalind asked, looking up at him. 

Niall laughed, shaking his head, “fuckin’ hell, Roz. Do you think I should call off?” 

Rosalind laughed, nodding, “I will if you will.” 

And really, a long weekend never hurt anyone. Rosalind had the stomach flu and Niall felt like he was getting it too. At least that was the story they were sticking to. 

Somehow Rosalind had convinced Niall to go to the lake despite how cold it really was. Niall was just happy to be there, with Rosalind. The way her smile made him ache, somewhere deep inside. And seeing her happy and breathless and more at peace than he ever saw her in New York, that was everything to him. 

Rosalind wrapped her sweater clad arms around him, smiling up at him. Niall smiled back, hand smoothing her wind-blown hair down. He pulled her in for a chaste kiss, thinking of the life they had left. How much of it they had. 

They were married. Well not technically. For logistical reasons, they haven’t married in Canada yet but that was okay because they both had rings on their fingers, and they were married. Together for an eternity and hopefully more, as Rosalind had said.  

One day they’d get married in a Catholic Church, Niall offered. He reasoned that since Rosalind took his last name, it was the least he could do. Rosalind didn’t think it was necessary, but she did think if they stepped into a church together it would go up in flames. All things considered, it was a rational thought. 

And then came the baby making. Rosalind was  as desperate as Niall for it to happen. They’d been trying for only a couple weeks but Rosalind was aching for a baby of her own. Maybe Niall was too. Secretly. Or not so secretly. He asked Rosalind a million times if she felt pregnant yet. 

But neither one of them knew exactly what their future held. The most important thing was they’d both forgiven each other, and were learning to forgive themselves. Niall was further along on that front than Rosalind but she was getting there. In her own time. 

Sometimes Niall missed the old Rosalind. The fire she had on her tongue, the way she had completely control over every room she’d enter. But then in moments like this, he loved the new one even more. The old Rosalind would never let him hold her. She might have in secret and then she’d deny it ever happened. 

“Do you miss Brooklyn?” Niall asked Rosalind as they walked down the lakeshore. They were hand in hand, taking matching steps. 

Rosalind smiled, eyes focused on the way the sand crunches under her boots. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Sometimes but only sort of. Don’t miss the life I had. Or the feelings I had. But I kind of miss the guys. And Maria.”

“It’s a wonder she hasn’t come looking for you,” Niall mused. 

“She’s threatened to,” Rosalind chuckled, shaking her head. “I got a few threatening calls on my old line. I talked to her and convinced her not to.”

“Any word of how luca’s doing?” Niall asked. 

Rosalind shook her head, “no. I don’t want to know either.” 

“Greg says our business has gone to complete shit,” Niall told her. 

“See I don’t want to know,” Rosalind laughed, looking up at him. “Don’t fuckin tell me.”

Niall laughed, sighing, “okay fine.”

“Do you think we should go back and get married?” Rosalind asked after a moment. “Officially, I mean. Just like for legal reasons.”

“Like?” Niall asked. 

“Spousal privilege,” Rosalind explained, slowly. “It doesn’t mean we’re completely safe here. If-if shit really does go down and they come looking for us and we’re not legally married, we may have to testify against each other.”

“I guess it’s a good point,” Niall nodded. “Do you worry about that?” 

“Sometimes,” Rosalind nodded. “It’s hard not to.”

“It is,” Niall agreed. 

“And we could go on a honeymoon,” Rosalind added, much too excited about that part of marriage. 

“I see where this is going,” Niall laughed, nodding. “This spousal privilege was all a ploy to get married so we can go on a honeymoon.”

“Maybe,” Rosalind shrugged. “But I mean, come on, we can fuck in an expensive hotel. Never leave the bed. Order room service.” 

“You just described every weekend in midtown,” Niall laughed. 

“Okay but this time,” she laughed, “you can call me your wife. And possible blowjobs. How can you resist?” 

“I can’t,” Niall admitted, a grin on his face. He couldn’t resist anything from Rosalind. And though at this point, they both knew the bowjob wouldn’t happen, but the prospect was excitement enough. 

“So we’ll get married,” Rosalind decided. “And honeymoon.”

“And we won’t be able to testify for each others’ crimes,” Niall added. “Sure you want to commit to that?” 

“I’m sure,” Rosalind laughed. “You sure you want to commit to that?” 

“Of course,” niall chuckled. He added, “I wish spousal privilege meant that if you went to jail, I could go with you so we could be together.” 

“That would be insane,” Rosalind murmured, shaking her head, eyes drifting back down to the sand. “Not sure I’d follow you to prison, though.” 

“Well I’d follow you,” he stated matter of factly.   

“Put it in the vows,” Rosalind teased, laughing at the ridiculousness off it. 

“I just might,” Niall laughed, tugging on her arm. “Now let’s go home. I’m fuckin freezing and after all this marriage talk, I really want a fuckin baby.” 

Rosalind laughed, letting him pull her in the opposite direction where they’d parked the car. Niall wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, cold nose and all. He murmured, “love you Roz, baby.” 

“Love you too, Niall,” she responded, eyes fluttering. 

FIN 

taglist: @swasanfrancisco​ @halluciniall​ @coconutdawn​ @exoticniall​ @missy14us​ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I have no immediate plans to continue this story but who knows what the future holds for these two! I hope you enjoyed their happy ending, I loved writing this. It was the fastest fic I've ever written (hopefully you can't tell)

Feel free to share anything you liked, what you didn't, or what you wished would've happened! I'm always up for a chat!

[starkerdayss]

ok but like headcanon: peter wants to wait till marriage to have sex, tony being his horny self begs better to atleast just put the tip in and peter loves it too much and well i was hoping you could write the rest 👌

(warning: religious corruption and just in general a lot of profanities, im sorry my catholic peeps. Also, plot twist end)

Peter was catholic. Christian, if he avoided the church (you know, “gays go to hell” and all that). But, even if he tended to not follow many of the rules that a Christian should follow, one that he sure did, was virginity and castity, to Tony’s displeasure, of course. 

The boy was so rectangular and so full of rules, that even make out sessions had their own set of instructions and lines to follow. Tony always did, though, not only not to disrespect the boy, but because he knew that if he didn’t follow them, his not so little friend could pop up at any time, and considering the amount of strength he had, he didn’t want to put himself in the situation where anything could be mistaken as abuse. 

The thing was, though, Peter wasn’t exactly the purest of boys out there. He loved castity, as we all know, but he didn’t really act like it. His hips always looked like they were dancing to a non-existent melody, his pale skin was decored with different things that Tony knew Peter bought just for a specific outfit, his face had always some kind of make up displayed on it, and although neither Tony or the author is saying that make up is there to seduce, we can all agree that on Peter, it looks rather sinful. And Tony was so fucking done with all of it. 

He did research. He put himself through the trouble of speaking with several ortodox catholics, including some of his fans, and most of them said that sex was practically prohibited (if you chose to follow that path). But there was one young girl, Tony estimated either 19 or 20, who said with nervous voice and shaking hands that the tip wasn’t as bad. She was probably talking about personal experience and not really aware that the relationship Tony was in was a flamingly homosexual one. 

But suddenly, that was the answer. 

The tip. 

As soon as the man was home, he called Peter, telling him that he needed him urgently in the lab, that they needed to talk some stuff through, and even if every single possible scenario where Tony broke up with him for staying a virgin crossed his little brain, he decided to show up anyway. Sweaty and all. 

“Tony, I understand that it’s hard for you to not have sex but…”

“Whoah, bad place to start, Sweetheart” muttered Tony as he stood up and rapidly crossed the lab, extending his arms and resting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “I found a way” 

The intimacy, somehow made Peter feel better. If Tony was going to break up with him, he wouldn’t be treating him like this. He wouldn’t be touching him. He would start being evasive, or annoying, or worse, both. Either way, Peter frowned. A way? 

Apparently, the gesture was enough to send Tony the message that Peter was as confused as a chamaleon in a bag of skittles. “I found a way for us to do something sexual and still being chaste” 

The frown on Peter’s face was only stronger. Technically, that wasn’t possible. Apart from oral sex, which is something they did far too many times for Peter to actually keep count, there was absolutely nothing involving penetration that… well, didn’t envolve penetration. “You’re bluffing” 

“Okay, first, “bluffing”? Common. Second, yes, I talked to several of your people and-”

“My people? What does that-”

“Concentrate, Peter! I talked to catholics, and one of them told me the solution to all our problems” 

Silence. 

“The tip”

“The tip?” 

“The tip” emphasized Tony, his eyes growing wide with the new possibilities. “Think about it. You just will need a little bit of lube and technically it’s not penetration. I’ll be really careful, you know I respect you” 

If he was honest with himseld, it sounded to him like Tony was just saying everything and anything he could come up with to get Peter on board, but the fact was, that he knew that Tony did actually respect him. If he said he wasn’t thinking about it, he would be lying. 

“I’m not- I’m not horny, though” muttered the boy, feeling like he was giving out a lame excuse, when really, it was just- he didn’t want just Tony to feel right. Maybe it wasn’t much, but he wanted to feel good too, maybe even come? Was that too much to ask when talking about just the tip?

The man smirked and his hands started going down Peter’s arms, taking him by the hands and squeezing them lightly. “I can change that, but only if you feel comfortable enough about it” 

He did. He had been feeling comfortable about it for ages now, he just was… extremely virgin and unexperienced. His cheeks turned bright red only thinking about it, and even though that wasn’t confirmation enough for Tony yet, he knew he could start with something. He slowly walked towards his boyfriend and started walking him backwards, making the boy look behind him several times, making sure that he wasn’t going to step on anything and ruin the moment. Tony could only look over his boy hungrily and with lustful eyes. He wanted him, he truly did. 

“Look at me” commanded the man, his voice suddenly rough and inhospitable, sending shivers down Peter’s back that ended up on the tip of his cock. Either way, he obeyed and his eyes turned and locked with the man’s. He stayed put while Tony backed him up completely and caged him into the corner of a desk, his crotch pressed way too hard against his own. 

“Tony…” started the boy, unccertainty and neediness hidding in his voice, only to be shut up by Tony’s rubbing. Peter really had to give it to him, when he said he was going to change Peter’s lack of horniness, he really meant it. 

Before he knew it, he was rutting agaisnt the man as well, his head thrown back as Tony’s buff goateé rubbed against his sensitive neck skin, delicious and sinful hickeys already forming. Peter’s knuckles were turning white from holding the edge of the desk with an underterminable amount of force, and he knew it was time. It had taken Tony less than five minutes to get him hard and throbbing, needy like a little kid, desperate like an animal in heat. 

“Now” 

Tony stopped kissing along his boyfriend’s jaw and looked up. “Are you sure?” he asked slowly, making sure that the words actually did get to the brain, which didn’t have much blood on it right now. Yet, Peter nodded, biting his lower lip and pressing himself even harder against the man, a pink color taking over his neck as embarrassment filled his veins. He couldn’t believe how much of a dog he looked like doing that. 

Once again, Tony could only smirk and smile. It was such an honor and pleasure to him to see his boyfriend feel that ravished before even doing anything to him. He licked his lips and acrefully placed one of his hands on Peter’s hip and the other under his chin, making him look at him. Peter opened his eyes slowly, his pupils dilated from all the pleasure he was already getting. “You’re beautiful, Peter. So fucking beautiful” 

Peter swallowed, then looked down at Tony’s lips, and since he didn’t really know what to say to that, he closed the distance between them and kissed him. First, it was cute, soft, needy, but then it turned rough, and the moment Tony realized what was going on, he felt a fiery possessiveness drown his every inside. He grabbed now Peter by the waist and pushed him down, making their bulges bump. Tony needed to remember that this was just the tip. 

“Tony. Ple- please in a bed” 

Tony growled inside Peter’s opened mouth and nodded, taking his boyfriend by the ass, wrapping his legs around his waist and running (more like walking fast, we don’t run in this household) upstairs, letting himself fall with the boy on top of him on top of the bed in the most gracious way he could find. “Now that’s what I’m talking about” whispered the little shit, giving Tony the side eyes when the man raised an eyebrow at him. “Um, do.. do you have…” 

“Condoms? Yes. Lube? Yes. A dick ready to just put the tip in? Also yes” 

It sounded almost pitiful. Just the tip. Just the tip because Peter had decided to follow some rule that someone had told him it would make someone in the sky very happy. It all seemed stupid now, but he understood that it was because he was extremely horny and it was the first time he was -somewhat- on top of Tony. “Can we- please do it already?” 

“Someone’s needy” muttered Tony, grabbing him by the ass and squeezing it hard. “Alright. Get undressed” 

“That’s romantic” moked the boy, getting off of Tony and looking around. Tony wasn’t moving, wasn’t undressing, he was simply staring. Peter could feel his cheeks slowly turn red once again. He hated being looked at with determination and scrutiny, specially when he was about to show every single bit of vulnerability that he had. “Can you maybe look the other way?” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but he knew Peter was serious, so he did, and he turned around, looking at the other edge of the bed. 

“And start undressing too! I’m not going to be walking around naked while you’re still a hundred percent dressed” 

“Jesus Christ, for being the submissive one you sure like giving instructions, don’t you?” 

The younger male rolled his eyes as well but smiled pleased when Tony started to undress too, not a care in the world as he took off pieces of layers and started getting completely nude. Peter ached to feel that comfortable about his body. But that was for another occasion. 

Finally, when Peter told his man that he was completely undressed and Peter knew for a fact that there was no other fabric left on Tony’s body, they both turned to each other, and Tony had to physically stop himself from drooling. He was completely perfect. Completely fucking perfect. 

He had seen him naked before, but never standing like that, cock leaking proudly over his belly button, his hair messy, hickeys going down his body… simply beautiful. 

“Peter Parker… do you understand how fucking perfect you are?” 

Peter wrinkled his nose and looked away. “Don’t. Just- come here” 

Surprsingly, Tony obeyed, walking around the bed and getting to Peter, indicating the bed. Peter knew what to do. He kissed Tony’s cheek and slowly got into the bed, crawling to the center of it while swaying his hips, then layed down and spread his legs, his hands on his stomach but not touching the main prize. 

The passion Tony was feeling was otherworldly. He didn’t know he could feel so hot and so little in comparison to a beautiful creature like that. How had he gotten so lucky? 

He grabbed the lube and the condom, and after regaining power, he got on the bed as well, crawling towards Peter and positioning himself in the middle of his spread legs, looking down at the pleading hole. God, how he wanted to destroy him… 

“I don’t really think we need the condom, but I’ll leave it up to you” 

It was a decision Peter wasn’t ready to make yet, but he nodded anyway. Yes, he had been taught that condoms were always a yes. Tony nodded back and roughly opened the condom, still careful enough not to break it, then put it on, opening the lube and pouring a generous amount on his fingers. That was an impulse. 

“Sorry” he muttered, then looked down. “You look… wet. Are you wet?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow before understanding what Tony was actually talking about. “Oh, yeah, didn’t I tell you? There’s like something in my spider self that makes me self lubricate. I think it’s because of the whole… no, I have no idea. I’m just- yeah”

The man blinked twice and breathed out. This was going to be really hard to mantain slow and brief. “Alright” he managed to get out as he slowly lined up, his hands shaky. Why was he nervous? Fuck. Peter was probably way more nervous than he was and there was Tony, being anxious. 

“Are you ready?” 

Peter nodded, he was. Tony nodded back and with one hand on Peter’s hip and the other one on his cock, he slowly pushed in, his eyes fixated on the little hole that he was currently perforating, being really careful not to penetrate him more than they had agreed on. 

His line of thought couldn’t be continued, though, because the boy yelled. Yelled? 

Tony looked up and saw Peter with his back arched, his head thrown back and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth so ahrd that he thought he was going to draaw blood. “Peter?” 

Nothing, just erratic breathing. 

“Baby boy” the man repeated, a sting in his heart as he saw his boyfriend in that non responsive state. But before he could say anything else, some words that Tony thought he was never going to hear without a ring on that finger left Peter’s mouth; 

“I need more” 

“What?” muttered Tony, his heart racing and his hands shaking. “Are you sure? Because we can stop right now and go on with out lives and not talk about this anymore until we’re ma-” 

“Do it” 

Silence. 

“Do it, dammit” 

Tony swallowed thickly as Peter looked at him. His dilated pupils had lust, need, desperation, and sex written all over it. Tony saw sex and he knew that that was it. He let go of his cock and gripped the headboard of the bed hard enough before thrusting inside that tight little virgin hole that was now his forever, making Peter gasp and arch his back again, a violent reaction. Beautiful. 

And suddenly, before any of them had time to think about it, Tony was mercilessly and fiercly pounding inside, without giving Peter any time to adjust because he didn’t look like he needed so. 

Long story short, they fucked. They fucked hard and Jesus wasn’t mad about it. Peter continued being a catholic and Tony… well, he continued beign a depressive alchoholic… but now they enjoyed each other and there might be somre purity in Peter, but the way he rides his daddy… there’s nothing graceful about that ;) 

(I know this is shitty but getting back to writing is hard) 

[habibialkaysani]

With the Morning Light (Matt/Elektra; T)

Ships: Matt/Elektra

Summary: Set during the flashbacks of Daredevil 2x05. The morning after their first time, Elektra wakes to find Matthew greeting the morning with prayer.

A/N: Okay! So I have spent the last few months getting into the Marvel Netflix verse and honestly it's been such a ride. Daredevil was the first show I watched after my friend nagged me for ages, lol, and I am now super invested in MattElektra. I didn't think I'd be writing something so soon, but here we are :)

Thanks to Ell/@violetsforgirls for reading this over for me and giving much-needed suggestions. You’re a star!

Read at AO3

Elektra had always been a light sleeper.

She remembered Stick telling her that was a good thing, actually laughing gruffly when she'd woken to the sounds of his footsteps and had pressed a blade against his throat. Where most people would have been affronted, Stick was proud, impressed, even.

(Elektra would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, but she needed his approval. At least, every now and then she did.)

It was that kind of base instinct, he had said, that made her ideal for the Chaste. She'd scoffed at the time when she heard the name, telling him she thought it sounded like some kind of cult of celibacy.

“Ellie, I don't give a shit who you decide to sleep with. For once I agree with you. It's a stupid name. Almost as stupid as the Hand. But that doesn't change the fact that we have to defeat them. Just get the job done and we're good.”

And they had been. Elektra was efficient in her missions, in a way that made her stand head and shoulders above the rest of the Chaste's members.

But then Stick assigned her Matthew Murdock.

From the outset she knew it wasn't her typical mission, because Stick hadn't ordered her to kill anyone. And sure, Stick hadn't said outright that Elektra had to sleep with Matthew either, but really he hadn't needed to - especially when Elektra had found herself falling for Matthew, hard.

And now, here they were, in Matthew's college dorm, spent and aching from their second round of lovemaking - the first being in the boxing ring Matthew used to frequent as a child. When they had reached the dorm, she'd laughed openly at him when he insisted on putting a sock on the door, even though his shaggy-haired roommate had already told him he was away visiting his parents.

(She'd stopped laughing, though, when he'd back-kicked the door shut and pressed her up against it and kissed her so hard it left her breathless.)

But it was morning now, the light streaming through the gap in the curtains. Elektra's eyes followed the path the narrow beam of sunlight made, turning on her side, and she found Matthew was sitting up, having pulled on some pyjama pants but still without a shirt. His head was ever so slightly bowed forward, and in the light she caught sight of the smattering of stubble on his jaw.

It was hard not to admire him - there was something beautiful, in the soft kind of way that Elektra hadn't thought was real, in the curve in his cheek, the way his brow was furrowed in concentration, in the way he slowly, deliberately exhaled. It was like - goddamn it, she couldn’t even believe she was thinking this - like Matthew was emanating light from within. And that made Elektra's breath catch in her throat.

Of all people, she never thought this would happen to her. Elektra had always looked at those lovelorn in disdain, not understanding when people wrote poetry, songs, novels, about this far-fetched emotion she had had yet to feel. But being with Matthew now - it was like a switch had flicked in her head. Like suddenly it all made sense.

Yet it wasn't just the gleaming sun kissing his cheeks and caressing his face that made her see him differently. It was more than that. Matthew had practically bared his soul to her last night. He’d opened up to her and given himself to her in every sense of the word - been vulnerable in a way she hadn't expected. And now, Elektra did not for the life of her know what to do with that, because the mere thoughts racing through her mind felt dangerously like the very love she had been so dismissive of before.

Looking at him now, she wasn't sure what he was doing - he seemed to be steeling himself, trying to work up the courage to do something. She just didn't know what - not until he blessed himself, put his hands together and started murmuring under his breath - and even then, she didn't recognise the words for what they were immediately.

“Dear Lord, help me remember what a difference it makes when I make time with You a priority in my morning. Awaken me in body and spirit each day with a desire to meet with You and to hear You speak words of affirmation, assurance and wisdom over my heart as I prepare to go into my day. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” He blessed himself again, two fingers touching his forehead and chest and shoulders. Then he sighed deeply, before he whispered the final word in the prayer: “Amen.”

And Elektra didn't even realise she was holding her breath until she suddenly found the need to let it out, and that was enough to give her away.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Matthew said softly without turning around.

“Hey,” Elektra replied with a smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's okay.” Elektra paused for a moment, then said, “I didn't know you were the religious type.”

That was a lie. Stick had briefed her thoroughly beforehand, and Elektra probably knew Matthew's life story better than he did.

Almost of its own accord, Matthew's hand went up to touch the crucifix around his neck.

“I'm not always a good Catholic,” he admitted. “Some days… I wonder what the point of all this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guilt, the penance, the self-punishment - and doing it all shrouded in ritual and candles and holy water like that makes it all okay.” But then he stopped short, as if he had just recognised the bitterness in his voice. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get all philosophical on you first thing in the morning.”

Elektra just laughed, reaching forward, her fingers grazing against his as she felt the cross too. “That's all right.”

“I guess that means you don't believe in a higher power, then?”

“You say that like it's a given.”

“For me it is,” Matthew countered.

“But you just said -”

“I said I'm not always a good Catholic. That I don’t know what the point of prayer is all the time. That I can get angry at God. But that doesn't mean I don't believe He's up there watching me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Elektra asked quietly.

To her surprise he chuckled. “I will let you know if I ever have a proper answer to that.”

It was then that she said slowly, “In answer to your question… I guess, maybe there is a God. Maybe there isn't. To be honest, I don’t really care either way. But if there is - in my book, He seems like a bit of a bastard.”

Elektra expected him to flinch at that, or otherwise react, and she was surprised to see that other than a slight twitching in the corner of his mouth, Matthew said and did nothing.

“What makes you say that?” he said finally.

“Last night… you said you lost your dad,” said Elektra, “that he was killed by criminals. And I doubt that's the only injustice that's happened to you.”

Matthew nodded. “Yeah, there are way too many sequels to that sob story.”

“It's not a sob story,” Elektra said firmly. “It's your life. It’s not been an easy one. And you've been dealt far too many shitty hands. It makes me wonder if the person or being doing the dealing is doing it on purpose when you so clearly deserve better.”

“I have to say, I'm glad life isn't a card game because I wouldn't have stood a chance. Being blind and all.”

Elektra laughed. “True. But I wonder - if we're going to go with that analogy - why keep playing, giving Him the benefit of the doubt, Matthew, when you keep being dealt so badly?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just have faith that I'll get dealt the right cards eventually.”

After hesitating for a moment, Elektra reached out, so her hand was covering his. “Well, for what it’s worth - I may not be a believer, but that’s something I’d pray for. For you to be happy.”

And Matthew smiled now. “See? That’s a miracle right there.” Their fingers laced together as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, then her nose and her lips. There was something so tender about it all - the kind of gentle earnestness that Elektra knew instinctively that she didn’t deserve.

“I'm glad you're here,” Matthew blurted out, almost before he seemed to realise he had done so. His hand dropped to his side.

“I'm glad too. Mostly because this futon is a wonder.” Matthew chuckled as well.

“It's only started to be. Before last night it was always so - stiff and new.”

“Well, then, I'm glad you broke it in,” Elektra said with a smile. She hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you a question? It's possible it might be too personal -”

She was surprised when she felt his lips brush against her cheek, even more so when he pulled away slightly and Elektra caught sight of the slow smile forming on his face. “Sweetie, I think we got plenty personal.”

That helped a bit - him making her smile, distracting her from what was really on her mind. “True.” She leaned over her side of the bed so she could grab Matthew's discarded t-shirt, putting it on.

“I hope that was my shirt,” he said with a grin.

“You know it was,” she teased back. He shrugged at that, letting out a tiny sigh when she put her arms around his bare waist from behind, burying her nose in his shoulder.

“You can ask, you know.”

She didn't need to be told twice. “Have you ever been in love?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and his sharp intake of breath already made her regret asking.

“Have you?” he countered. And for what felt like the hundredth time so far, again, Elektra was thrown, caught off guard, without an answer. Damn Matthew Murdock and his never-ending ability to get under her skin.

“I didn't even think it was possible,” she admitted. “I… didn't think I was built for that, to be honest.” Then she shifted a little, reaching out so her finger was under his chin and she turned his head towards her. “Good job deflecting that question, by the way. Nicely done, Matthew.”

At first he didn't answer, just kissed her gently. Then he said quietly, “I have, Elektra. Been in love, that is.”

“How did it end?”

“It hasn't,” he replied firmly without hesitation, as he leaned his forehead against hers, and Elektra knew that Matthew could have gone on, said more. His lips were parted, the words that Elektra had all but asked him to say on his tongue, but she couldn't let him say it. And it wasn't only because it pained her to see him wear his heart so unashamedly on his sleeve; no, it also pained her when she realised that what she wanted more than anything was to do the same in return.

But she had her mission. Elektra was meant to be the distraction for Matthew, not the other way around.

So she lost herself in him instead, and he in her. And she shouldn’t have, she really shouldn’t have, but as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, she found herself mouthing the words she had stopped him from saying into his skin.

Tagging a few people who might be interested (apologies if you’re not pls ignore): @captainriphunter @therewas-a-girl @moralezmiles @smilinstar