#priest!matt murdock x reader

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

//remember when i said at the beginning of 'enter sandman' that i'm not seeing the pearly gates? this one is gonna solidify that.

priest!matthew who falls in love with your voice first on the other side of the confessional booth.

priest!matthew who demands that you repent for your sins by kneeling before him, your breath hot against his leg, and it drives him absolutely wild.

priest!matthew whose cock hardens as he hears you beg him for forgiveness, blurring the lines between repenting for your sins and worshipping him.

priest!matthew who fucks you with you sprawled out on his desk, his rosary against your skin.

priest!matthew who makes you suck him off as he says his prayers, claiming it to be a test of his patience and devotion to god.

priest!matthew who spits in your mouth as punishment when you use the lords name in vain.

priest!matthew who has mostly made peace with his quiet, modest life, but lets the devil out when you show up to the church already soaked for him.

priest!matthew who fingers you in the pews of his church, soaking his fingers with your juices, sure to lick it off his fingers as he tells you how good you taste after chastising you for being so needy in the house of god.

priest!matthew who takes advantage of how desperate you are to repent for your sins, no matter how small.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Turn ||

Pairing: Priest!Matt Murdock x female reader

Tags & warnings: kinda inexperienced non-DD Matt, religious imagery, oral sex (both f and m receiving), choking, unprotected sex, giving up Christianity because the pussy is so good 🙏 Amen.

Author's note: Alrighty kids, this is clichéd religious trope corruption kink central and I'm living! If you are not a fan of the sacrilicious I strongly suggest you look away now and say a hundred hail marys.

@mindidjarin and @munsonownsmyass and I were thirsting hard over Priest!Matt so maybe keep yours eyes peeled for some more goodness...?

Okay slutty friends, take a pew, suck this wine off my fingers and let's gooooo!

The cold from the stone flags seeps up into the joints of his knees making them ache, but he'll gladly suffer such a minor pain for this.

A scuffing of thin paper over grit and dust draws his attention to the bible, now relegated to the floor as he shuffles closer to you.

You'd dropped it, his bible, just as easily as he had discarded his vows. He'd been so selfish in the newfound lust that you'd unlocked, made you find and read aloud passages of servitude, of worship…

'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'

He had made you convince him it was right, pushing him down in willing supplication before you, your gaze surely following his trembling fingers as he drew your ruined underwear down to your feet.

He wanted to give and give and give. The font of your beautiful cunt flowing freely on his lips, a taste to which he was now hopelessly addicted, to that and the sounds of your moans that echo around the nave like his own private choir.

"Father… fuck, you're so good at this-"

He draws his tongue up over you again, reveling in the way you squirm at his touch even though this is new to him.

"It's… M-Matthew, call me Matthew…" he murmurs, before his mouth is on you again, his fingers pressing the supple flesh of your ass as if he can't possibly tear himself away. You had enthralled him, lingered too long after mass with your 'difficult' questions, tested his faith and ultimately tempted him with the plush feel of your lips around his fingers as you took communion. It wasn't as if he didn't try to resist, but it wouldn't have been worth it. Not now he knew this true Eden existed with you in the quiet hours of his church at night.

"Matthew…" you moan, gripping hard on the back of the pew behind you. His name from your lips spurs him to work harder for more. More of your pretty sounds, more of the pretty nectar dripping from that heavenly and forbidden place between your thighs.

And over the next few days, when he returned to his studies with the other priests, the scent of you floats up like the devil's telegram from the pages of this tarnished Good Book. As he turns each one he grows harder under the desk, remembering how it felt when his fingers traced over the skin of your neck, the slight hemispherical indents from the rosary he'd leashed you with reminding him.

'Harder' you'd said, and he'd obeyed, pulling it tight as you choked so beautifully on his throbbing cock, your warm spit dribbling down over his balls as you encouraged him to fuck your perfect mouth, his other hand shoved down the front of your shirt groping at the soft tender skin of your breasts as you praise him for spilling down your delicately bruised throat with a strangled gasp of God forgive me.

He was certain you'd no idea what you had unleashed. You had stolen this pathetically repressed Catholic mess of a man, this student of God, for your own. He craved your sermons of sin, ached for more lessons, and when he excused himself to the bathroom hiding his shame behind that fucking weighty tome to which he thought he had dedicated his life, he came biting his fist with tears in his eyes because of this simple greed for you that may never be fully sated.

"I'm sorry." You'd told him.

Sorry for what?

Sorry for showing him pleasure?

Sorry for opening his blind eyes to a glimpse of a heaven he might have never attained?

You had either released or ruined him, no matter what you said it was always going to be his choice to make.

It wasn't difficult.

Even now as he lies on the altar with you he can't feel any regrets over the sheer need consuming his being.

Please, he begs as you grind into his lap. You kiss him and it stokes the crackling sparks of his free desire, he wants more, always more, his hands braver and roaming farther with each encounter. He marvels again as his fingers drift between your legs, at how you're soaking wet because of him, he did that to you. And you do the same, letting him lead your hands between your bodies to stroke over the physical embodiment of years of pent up lust. You grin wickedly, as he's wet too.

His hand closes over yours to rip the dog collar from his neck, unravelling everything he'd worked for. He knew it wasn't wasted time, it was practice. Preparation for his devotion to you.

Your nimble fingers work to free him from his pants and in a flurry of fervent need your clothes are strewn around the dais like simple offerings. He barely registers what happens next, everything is so much. All he knows is you're surrounding him completely, he's buried so deep inside you and he's never felt anything close to this bliss. You move above him, your hips rolling steadily and he tries his best to meet you, move with you but he's terrified he's going to lose himself in this, in you.

"That's the point, my love" you breathe against his ear. He realises he had moaned aloud, confiding his hopes and fears in you already.

"Oh, oh god-"

He knows the weight of that huge crucifix hangs over the two of you, what used to be a heavy judgement now just a silent witness to this carnal act, an indulgence from which he cannot abstain. The chain of the one he wore around his neck tangled in your fingers.

"You feel… so fucking good," he groans deep and you feel his hands firm on your hips, his confidence growing with every kiss, every passion filled thrust and drinking in every beautiful sound of pleasure you make blurring his path.

Maybe he wasn't worthy of God's love, but he could be worthy of yours? Your love had been his little secret, it tasted warm and tempting, felt so new and exciting, so hot and wet and-

"I… you're gonna make me- I can't-"

You wrap even more tightly around him pulling him closer to the exquisite heat of you. He feels you reach above where you're joined, he thought he could stop, he could pull out but your fingers are moving quickly and your heavenly cunt is squeezing around his cock and he can't take it he's going to cum inside you any second…

"Matthew!" you whine and how can he refuse the glorious pain when you dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders, your voice his only master as you command him, cum for me.

Fuck…

He comes hard, your name his only prayer now as he gives up his chastity. It's a fair exchange, something pure and holy for something pure and holy, baptised and reborn by this raw and powerful love you have shared with him, feeling empty and yet so full, the cascading waves of pleasure finding him lost and sweeping him off to a new shore.

He doesn't miss his church, now that he has a new place of worship with the sweetest blessings from your lips, endless lessons in your bed, and a loving home in your arms.

Tags: @phoebe-danvers @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @i-simp-much @creatingjana @echos-muses

[munsonownsmyass]

Priest!Matt Murdock x reader

Author’s note: what was supposedly a innocent picture shared by @mindidjarin in our TFC server caused a few of us to go feral for Father Matthew. And here's my contribution 😅

Oh, and just because I really needed Matt with the glasses, let's pretend he's almost blind 😆

And I have to say religion is not my forte, so if I've made a mistake, I'm sorry. I tried to do some research 🙈

Warnings: Oh Lord, where to begin? Sacrilege, blasphemous behavior, probably incorrect use of prayers/confessions, taking some liberties with the size of a confession booth, biblical references, corruption, Father Matthew is a virgin (because i said so!), SMUT! 18+. Implied masturbation, Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, choking, cream pie, body worship, Catholic guilt. Let's just say I'm gonna burn in hell for this.

Words: 4K. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop.

”Church? Really?”

You can’t hide your disgust and instantly you see your roommate's smile fade. You don’t mean to offend her, not really, religion has just never been your thing. Never even been to church, you can’t really imagine going now.

“Come on. It’s always so nice to go during the holidays.” Laura tries, taking your hands in hers. “Please. For me? You only have to go once if you don’t like it, promise.”

Laura gives you a pleading smile and you feel yourself give in. She’s the kindest person ever, so how can you even say no to her? And maybe it won’t be so bad.

“But… Am I even allowed to go?” you ask with a shrug of your shoulders, causing Laura to laugh. She just wraps her arms around you, before giving your forehead a kiss.

“Of course, silly. What do you think will happen? You’d burst into flames?” she giggles before walking towards the kitchen to get your dinner started. Little does she know that is exactly what you’re thinking.

You weren’t exactly a complete sinner, but you weren’t a wallflower either. Never been afraid to try things, you’re quite sure you’ve done things Laura haven’t even heard off. She’s probably spray you with holy water if she knew. It’s quite ironic you ended up with a good modest catholic girl as your roommate, when you live in Hell’s Kitchen of all places.

The following Sunday you find yourself in front of Clinton Church with an overly excited Laura at your side. Her family would go to church religiously every Sunday and she never missed one. After moving to Hell’s Kitchen, she had quickly found a new church and according to her, the priest here were amazing and really inspiring, whatever that means.

Laura drags you all the way up to the front. You’re about to protest, hoping you could have hidden in a corner, when you hear people fall silent. Looking up at the alter, you see the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Who’s that?” you whisper, earning an annoyed look from Laura. “That’s the priest. Now shush.”

And you do. Not because she told you too, but because you wouldn’t even be able to form words if you tried. You’re instantly drawn to him. His dimples when he smiles, his smooth voice as he talks passionately throughout the sermon, his beautiful eyes as they look over his congregation.

After the service, Laura drags you up to the priest, wanting to introduce you. “Father Matthew, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She says softly, causing him to turn around. He’s even more handsome up close and you feel your mouth go dry. Laura gives him your name and when he repeats it, you feel yourself blush.

“Welcome. It’s good to have you with us.” He says with a bright smile, taking your hands in his. “If there’s ever anything, my office is always open.”

Oh, if only he knew what you were thinking right now. You nod politely, thanking him. Another person demands his presence, so he bids you farewell with another killer smile, making your knees weak. Unable to tear your eyes away, you eye him as he talks to the other attendants. Charming, handsome and passionate. You start to see the appeal of going to church.

A few days later you find Laura knee-deep in flour when you come home from work, the kitchen looking like a mess.

“What’s going on?” You ask with a grin, trying to help lessen the damage. With a heavy sigh, she sits down on a stool, pulling some dough out from her hair.

“There’s a bake sale at the church. I want to help.” She huffs out, pouting like a child. You can’t help but laugh softly, helping her with another lump of dough.

“Let me bake it for you.” You pat her shoulder, as you return to the counter and start cleaning up some of the mess she’s made. An idea pops into your head. “Maybe I should come to the bake sale. Help you out.”

At that she stops and look at you, confusion written all over her face. “You? Wanna help? But you don’t even believe in God.”

“No, but I believe in Father Matthew’s ass.” You grin, but stopping as soon as you see the horrified expression on Laura’s face. “What?”

“You really shouldn’t talk about a priest like that.” She counters, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t think a man as devout as him would appreciate it.”

“Oh, come on!” You grin, leaning against the counter as you face her, arms crossed over your chest. “You make it sound like it’s a sin or something. I’m just saying he’s hot.”

Laura avoids your gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the little piece of dough she pulled from her hair. She’s clearly uncomfortable, trying to find the right words. “But… It kinda is forbidden. I mean, he’s a priest. A catholic priest. They have to abstain from such things.”

Putting down the spoon in your hand, you look at her confused, replaying her words in your mind. “So… You’re telling me Father Matthew is a virgin?!”

“Not that it’s any of our business to discuss, but…” she pauses, her cheeks a bright pink, clearly not used to conversations like this. “It’s most likely, yes.”

And with that she walks away, done with the conversation. Shaking your head in disbelief, you save the batter before pouring it into a pan. You couldn’t wrap your head around a guy like him being a virgin. So charismatic and kind, there was no way.

The next day at the bake sale, Father Matthew comes over to thank you for the help. You generously offer to help whenever he needs it, which is how you found yourself helping out at the church several times a week. Whatever it took to get closer to Father Matthew.

He was like this forbidden fruit, a beacon calling you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself smiling in his company, craving his attention. And you dont think the affection is one sided. Father Matthew smiles more in your presence, always finding reasons to be near you.

Small fleeting touches would send your heart soaring. You wondered if he knew the effect he had on you, how much you longed for him.

Especially late at night, laying alone in your bed, you found your thoughts invaded by him. How his perfect body would feel against yours. How those lips would feel, trailing kisses over every inch of your skin. His voice whispering sweet praises in your ears.

It really wasn’t fair. A pious and devout man with an ass and lips made for sin, and you couldn’t touch him. You were starting to think that if there really was a God, he certainly was a cruel one.

It’s a quiet day at the church, not really anything to do. But still you stayed, talking to Matthew about… anything really. Today he talked about how his life sometimes had been lonely before he found his calling. The words from Laura still ringing in your head, you find your courage to finally ask the question that’s been burning to come out.

“Have you never been curious?” Your ask, your fingers grazing the rows of benches as you make your way over to Matthew. Looking to you briefly, he just offers a smile as he keeps putting the bibles in place.

“It's my job to be curious, but for the sake of argument. Curious about what?”

“What I mean is…” You step forward, further closing the distance between you and Father Murdock. “Have you ever been tempted?”

He swallows hard and you hear his breathing get heavier. Licking his lips, he puts down the bible and turn to you. “I have.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you walk closer still, your body almost touching his. “And you never wanted to give in to temptation?”

“Tha-that would be a sin.” He breathes out, clearly affected by you. “The, uhm… The devil often sends temptations in the most…” he pauses, breathing strained as his hand comes to rest on the bench in front of him, knuckles almost turning white as he clenches around the wood. “Alluring forms. All to test our faith.”

“And how strong are you in your faith, Father?” you breathe out, using every single ounce of willpower not to kiss him. Never one to believe, you feel yourself praying for strength to resist him.

“Not-” he swallows, turning his head to you, his face a mere inch from yours. “Not as strong as I want to be.”

The air between you is thick. You want to lean in, claim his lips with your own. Your whole body is screaming for him. It’s so forbidden, but you don’t care. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted a man before. Needing him like you're drawing and he is air.

Unable to hold back any longer, you lean forward and gently press your lips to his in a sweet, brief kiss. Petrified, he stands there wide eyed, mouth slightly ajar.

The door to the church opens, causing Father Matthew to break away from you. His face flustered, bottom lip quivering as he tries to compose himself. He looks to the man who entered the church, swallowing hard, as he takes one of the bibles, using it to cover his erection.

“I-I must go.” He stutters, fixing his glasses and smoothes down his hair, trying to look unphased when in fact his insides are in turmoil, his soul on fire from your kiss. He gives you a soft smile, his free hand squeezing your arm, before he walks down the aisle.

You sit down in the confession booth, waiting. It’s not long before the hatch slides away, the unmistakable voice of Matt Murdock greeting you.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first time confessing.”

His breathing changes. He knows it’s you. He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat before he speaks. “What do you have to atone for, my child?”

“I have had unpure thoughts of a man I shouldn’t lust after. A man of the church. I feel myself drawn to him.” You confess, looking to the little window between you and Matthew. “I… I have touched myself thinking about him.”

“Oh God.” He breathes out, barely above a whisper.

“I have thought about all the ways I could please him. How he would feel inside me.”

A soft whimper fills the air. You can hear him squirming beside you, finding it hard to sit still. “I wonder if he thinks of me too. If he has laid there in the darkness, hard at the thought of me.”

“Please… Don’t…” is all he manages to say, hearing the struggle in his voice. “I can’t…”

In that moment you give hell to everything, leaving the booth and find yourself opening the door to his side. Father Matthew looks up, breathing coming out hard, as he tries to control himself. His cock is straining against the zipper, begging to be released. He tries to hide it, ashamed of how little self-control he has around you.

You walk in, not even bothering to close the door behind you before you straddle his lap, your core rubbing against his hard length. He whimpers at the contact, muttering prayers under his breath.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go.” You say, the pleading clear. You want him with every fiber of your being, already soaked through your panties. A wicked part of you wants to ruin him, wants to know you were the one taking his innocence, right here before the eyes of God.

“You know I can’t.” He looks up, eyes glazed over with lust. He swallows hard, his hand cupping your cheek. He prays that you have the strength to leave, because his is faltering. Leaning in closer, your breath ghost over his lips, causing him to shiver.

“Please don’t. I… I’m not strong enough to resist you.” He stutters, not breaking away. You claim his lips in a soft, almost timid kiss. Moans fill the air as he feels your soft lips against his. Deepening the kiss, you grind against him, feeling how hard he is under you.

Your hands move down his chest, cupping his bulge, eliciting sweet whimpers from Father Matthew. You push away, falling to your knees, the cold stones hard against your skin. You unzip his pants, hand wrapping around his weeping cock, so desperate for attention. Father Matthew puts his hand over yours, causing you to stop.

“No, we can’t… ” He tries to protest, yet his hips jerk up into your hand, whimpering at the friction. At that you just smile softly, taking him into your mouth down to the base, getting a loud moan from him. Father Matthew throws his head back, eyes open, thinking about the lifeless figure hanging over the alter, judging him.

“God forgive me.” He whimpers, his fingers gripping onto the bench beneath him. You bob your head, moaning as his tip hit the back of your throat. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers through Farther Matthew, making him squirm under you, before he stops you by pushing your head away.

He falls to his knees, facing you. His eyes almost find yours, the intensity of the moment making his heart swell with something he wishes were weaker, so he could ignore it. But he can’t. His hands move to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, uncovering your smooth soft skin that breaks out in goosebumps under his timid touch.

You know it's the first time he's ever touched another human so intimately, so you let his fingers explore your skin, his trembling hands cupping your breasts.

Your heart is beating fast, the sound almost deafening as your lips come together again. You make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, fingers running hungrily over his chest. You hold him tight as you press kisses down his jaw to his throat.

Father Matthews skin burns under your touch, eyes half lidded, heavy with want as his eyes search for you. With a hand flat on his chest, you turn, pushing him back until he’s laying on the floor, his upper body outside the booth. Anyone could walk in and find you, but none of you care. Straddling him, your soaked panties rub over his exposed cock, making him groan under you. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you grind on him.

Pulling your panties to the side, you take a hold of his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto his hard length. Father Matthew holds his breath as you take him to the base, his mind going blank at how good you feel. “God forgive me.” He chants, over and over, as you fuck yourself on his cock. His whimpers fill the air, the sound echoing throughout the church.

His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts up into you, unable to hold back. It’s so good, so forbidden. It only takes a few more seconds before Father Matthew comes with a loud groan.

“Oh God!” he moans, eyes closed as he pumps into you one last time before coming to a halt. For a moment, all you hear in the empty church, is your heavy breathing filling the air. After catching his breath, he sits up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He pushes you off him gently, averting your gaze as he quickly fixing his clothes. Guilt is painted all over his features, his face red with embarrassment as he runs towards his office, leaving you alone on the floor.

A week later, you find yourself outside his office. You want to say your sorry, to seek his forgiveness for being weak. You wanted it, but it wasn’t until you saw the torment on his face that you realized what you had done.

You had taking his virginity, without even thinking about the consequences. You had to make amends. Taking a deep breath, you knock on his door and wait.

“Come in.”

Peaking in, you see him sitting at his desk, a stack of paper before him. His fingers glide over the pages, reading another line, before looking in your direction.

“What can I do for you?”

“I… I wanted to say sorry.” You barely manage to say, voice close to breaking. Father Matthew stop what he's doing, pushing away from his desk.

“You’re not the only one guilty of what happened that day.” He walks up to you, his index finger gently tracing your jaw. “And I’m sorry for leaving you. I just…”

“Felt guilty?” You offer, getting a small smile in return from Father Matthew. Cupping your cheek, he nods softly, sighing at the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

“Yes. I cannot allow myself to be tempted.” He pauses, resting his forehead against yours. “But you make it very hard. Make me falter in my faith.”

He breaks away from you, walking back to his desk, the frustration evident. You walk over to Father Matthew, sitting down beside him on the desk. There’s so much you want to say, but you fear the words wouldn’t help. You settle for placing your hand on his, a gesture so innocent compared to what else you've done, but it still feels like you're playing with fire.

Father Matthew looks to his hand, lips quirking up in a little smile, before he turns his hand around, so he can hold yours. His thumb moves in soft circles on the back of your hand, the motion as soothing for him as it is to you.

Looking down at the table, you see a pair of glasses with dark red glass, so unlike the ones he usually wears. "What are the red glasses for? Can you read hidden codes in the books with them?"

"You have watched too many movies." Father Matthew grins, giving your hand a squeeze. He looks in their direction, scratching the back of his head. "Most blind people wear dark shades. Some to hide their eyes, but most because it's easier on the eyes."

"But... you're...?"

"Almost completely blind. Barely any sight left. So it's not long before I'll have to switch these out." He smiles, tapping the clear glasses on his nose.

After that, the two of you sit in silence for a while, none of you daring to speak. Finally, you break the silence.

"Father Matthew, I-"

“I believe you were put on this earth to be my test from God. My apple of Eden.” He interrupts with a pained smile, turning to you, his free hand coming to rest on your cheek. "And now that I've known desire, I fear one taste will never be enough."

You blush, the sacrilege in his words weighing heavy on you. You know what those words could mean, how they could bring ruin to him, as he would sacrifice everything he's worked for, for you.

His lips find yours in an innocent kiss. A silent 'God forgive me' falls from his lips, before they claim yours again. This time less timid as his tongue begs for entrance. It quickly turns heated, frantic, as he moves closer to you, unable to keep his distance any longer.

Father Matthew moves from the desk, only to stand between your parted legs, his hands shaking as they pause on your thighs. He falls to his knees, looking up at you.

“What wicked games our Lord can play, sending someone like you to cross my path.” He breathes out, fingers trembling as they open your jeans. Slowly he pulls them off along with your underwear, exposing you to him. Hands caressing up the length of your legs, causing Father Matthew to shiver.

“No one but you could make a man fall from grace.” He grins, nipping at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a string of whimpers from you. “Hail Mary, full of Grace.” He prays, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin, muttering prayers under his breath. You shiver as he nears your heated core, already soaked for him. He kisses you mound, his breath on your sensitive cunt making you tremble.

“Pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen.” He pleads, his eyes blown wide with lust as he dives in, his tongue licking up your wet slit.

"Oh God… Father Matthew." You moan out, fingers entangling in his hair as he devours you like a man starved. His perfect lips encircle your clit as he starts sucking, pulling a sweet moan from you. His name falls from your lips, like the softest prayer, a hymn more beautiful than any he'd ever heard before.

Lowering himself a little more, he licks at your entrance, the sweet taste of you making him moan into your folds. He grabs a hold of your hips, urging you closer as he pushes his tongue inside of you, wanting to drink you in completely.

Flattening his tongue, he licks up your slit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud. It's all too much and with a few more flicks of his tongue, you come undone with his name on your lips.

He keeps nipping at your sensitive core as you come down, your breathing rapid as you look down, marveling in the sight before you. He looks good on his knees, like a good catholic boy praying at the alter that is you.

Pulling him up to his feet, you kiss him with unknown passion, the hunger for him threatening to break you if you don't feel him inside you soon. Father Matthew feverishly pull at his belt, impatiently unzipping his pants. He palms his erection, pumping a few times before he lines up at your entrance, his whole body trembling.

He knows it's a sin, he knows he shouldn't. But he wants you, needs you. Not since he found his calling, his path, has anything called to him as you do. His Lilith, his temptress, unbroken and unbowed as you make this cold office feel like your own Garden of Eden.

Pushing in, his legs almost give in at the feeling of you. Your wet heat, so inviting as he pushes in, soft prayers once again spilling over his lips.

"God, give me strength." He mutters, voice close to breaking, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

Your tight warmth surrounding him, igniting a furious fire deep in his belly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He pulls out slowly, reveling in the feeling of you.

“How can anything that’s a sin feel so good?” He breathes out as he pushes in slowly, inch by delicious inch, before he bottoms out. “I’m sure this is what heaven feels like.”

By the time Father Matthew starts thrusting, you almost sob at the sensation of his hard cock inside you. The stretch is delicious and he takes his time, savoring you and your cunt with slow and deep thrusts. You clench around him, already close again.

He grips you harder, his pace quickening as he gets close to his own release. His hand moves up to your throat, squeezing gently, just enough to make you gasp for air.

"Matthew, please…" You whisper as he claims your lips, the kiss almost bruising as he pistons his hips against you. You scream out your release, fingers digging into Father Matthews shoulders. He only thrusts once more, before he spills inside you, filling you to the brim.

"Jesus Christ!" You pant, feeling how he throbs inside of you. Matthew just chuckles, kissing your forehead sweetly.

"Language. You shouldn't take his name in vain." He says seriously, but soon breaks into a laugh. He kiss you again, quick pecks on your lips, cheeks and nose.

"Sorry, Father." You feign innocence, biting your lip. Father Matthew just sighs, nudging your bottom lip free with his thumb before he kiss you softly.

"What should I do with you?" He laughs, placing another series of soft kisses on your lips.

"I think this calls for lots and lots of private confessions. This little lamb has strayed too far from the path." You grin, kissing his neck. He instantly moans, still new to this kind of intimacy.

What you’ve done, is the ultimate sin and could lead to Father Matthew being excommunicated. Forced to leave the church and his calling. But by the way his cock twitches against your core, you think he's ready to sin some more.

TFC girls: @phoebe-danvers @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @saintmurd0ck @mattmurdocksscars @a-bang-for-your-bucky @pedrito-friskito

Tagging a few people. Please just tell me if it's not okay: @lucy-sky @foli-vora @murdockswh0r3 @freshabogados @briefcasejuice @peterman-spideyparker

[farfromstrange]

I Want To Fuck A Priest | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

PART 6 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for the priest you met at a farmer's market. Thankfully, he has a thing for you, too.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), porn without much plot, Priest!Matt, blasphemy (!!!), church setting, improper use of a priest's collar, improper use of a confessional booth, improper use of the act of confession, praise, prayer, oral afab!receiving, slight Dom!Matt, Catholic guilt, Fleabag reference, seriously if you are religious or triggered by the improper use of religion DO NOT read this!

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: This is for those who watched Fleabag and then saw all the 'Imagine Matt as a priest' and 'Charlie Cox once played a Spanish priest' posts and thought, "Same!" when Fleabag said, "I want to fuck a priest." I see you, and I feel you. I wrote this after re-watching Fleabag one night, but I added a little poetic twist while editing because before, it was just completely plotless oral sex. While that isn't bad, I needed to add some vibes. You're welcome.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The church bells ring as the clock strikes midnight. The night sky is void of dark clouds. In the darkness above the massive walls encasing the holy ground, the stars shine brighter than the city lights. New York City, the city that never sleeps, makes an exception for the house of God in the dead of the night, it seems.

It’s been…several years since my last confession. 

The graveyard attached to the church looks threatening in its vacancy. It’s void of human souls except for the dead ones buried there. A raven claps its wings in the distance, following the gush of wind that brushes through the trees. 

The bell rings twelve times before it stops, but the echo bounces off the stone walls and shakes the stained-glass windows, which seems to drag on for an eternity. 

The last time I confessed my sins was before my communion. I don’t know if that makes me a bad Catholic, but lately, I’ve been having sinful thoughts, and I need to get them out of the way before I collapse under the weight of them.

You considered for the longest time whether or not you should come here. Faith has been your enemy for the longest time. You don’t believe in the Catholic Church, and yet you have found your way here, in the middle of the night, when everyone should be asleep in their beds. 

This isn’t a normal night, by any means. You often lay awake at night and question your purpose in this life, but lately, you’ve been feeling like you’re drowning. Sins are subjective, and you never paid much mind to the term until now. 

The thoughts you find yourself having late at night when you’re awake and lonely are far from holy. They aren’t ideal. They make you wonder just why you are thinking this way now.

But no man has ever been like him. And the worst part about it is that wanting him alone is an unholy train of thought you should have never submitted to. 

You tried ignoring it, carrying it all by yourself, and trying to heal whatever complex you may have that could have led to this obsession in the first place, but your life has been a mess for long enough that it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, and no matter what you tried to do, you couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

He is the reason you came to church tonight to confess your sins. But you’re not here to find your way. You’re not here to ask for guidance from God. You told yourself that the unholiness of your thoughts needs to be cured and that is why you came here—to make this situation better for yourself—but the thought is ancient; it’s the twenty-first century and you’re the kind of person who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. The truth is, you’re here to get what you want, even if it will land you in the pits of hell for all eternity. And even if it kills you.

“You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” the low voice asks from the other side of the confessional booth.

You shake your head. “Not at all, Father. When I went to Sunday Mass this weekend, it was my first time in a church in a very long time,” you admit to him, “and this is my first confession since I was a child. I…I’m not really a devoted Catholic, you understand. I’m merely struggling right now, and I…I am in desperate need of guidance.”

Your lip quivers. Your voice resembles a tidal wave that comes and goes as nature pleases.

He can’t see you. It’s not the curtain that is separating you and is starting to feel like worlds apart—he can’t see you. He can only hear and smell you, and that alone makes your thighs clench with need. 

Should you be doing this in a church? Should you fantasize about a man of God and want to claim him, coming to his sanctuary to tell him the truth and mess with his head? You know that it’s wrong, but the wrong thing often feels too right to stop. 

When you met him at the farmer’s market the other day, he was so endlessly kind to everyone, including yourself. He invited you to Sunday mass, and you went. You went on a walk with him afterward, and there seemed to be something there, but he couldn’t act on it because he is who he is and what he is. He made a vow. He can’t have you, no matter how badly he wants to, and one look into his unfocused hazel eyes when he took off those red glasses he always wears told you that he does want you. It led to another sleepless night among many, and now you’re here.

You’re so utterly selfish, but God, you can’t stop it. When you want something, you would do anything to get it. He makes you feel things you never felt before. It’s terrifying, but you have to allow yourself to jump into unknown waters if you want to learn how to swim.

He clears his throat, and you can hear the chair creak under his weight as he shifts. Is it possible that you’re doing the same to him that he is doing to you?

“I want to start by saying that you’re really brave,” he says. The sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. “But God offers people guidance in a symbolic sense. I can take your confession, tell you how to repent for your sins, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

You sigh. “I wish you would though.”

A chuckle passes his lips. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s weighing you down, sweetheart, and we will go from there?”

Sweetheart. 

Yes, you think, this is your one-way ticket to hell. 

“I’ve been having thoughts,” you confess.

“Thoughts?” he asks.

“Yes. Unholy thoughts.” Your breath comes in weak puffs of air. The booth seems to cave in on you. You wish he would step out of his booth into yours and stuff his cock into your mouth. For him, you would shut up. You would do whatever he tells you to do, and you would do so gladly.

Fuck. You want to fuck a priest. 

But lucky for you, Father Matthew wants to fuck you too. He’s here, at midnight, because you were lost and he was still there—he told you he spends his nights at church sometimes because the city gets too loud for him. You couldn’t go anywhere else because any place where he isn’t doesn’t seem worth visiting.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath. You imagine him swallowing, his white collar constricting his labored airflow. You imagine him pulling at it to free himself, but he can’t. Those sinfully thick fingers of his would feel even better on your skin. 

“Unholy thoughts,” Father Matthew asks, “about whom, sweetheart?”

He’s pushing your buttons with that nickname. It’s so not professional. The lines are starting to blur.

“A man,” you tell him. 

“A man?”

“A man of God.”

The confession causes a bout of silence. You could have heard a hairpin drop. 

His chair creaks again, and his voice reminds you of an animalistic growl right before an apex predator attacks its prey. “And what unholy thoughts have you been having about this man of God?” he inquires.

Your inner walls clench around thin air. Sweat drips down your temples, and the arousal soaks your underwear. Your nipples strain against your shirt. If you grip the seat any harder, you will soon find wooden chips under your nails.

You lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you whisper. “And I want to touch him.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“And in your thoughts, does he satisfy you?”

Your answer comes promptly, “Always.”

There is not a scenario in which Father Matthew could possibly leave you unsatisfied. 

The chair creaks again. Something in the air shifts. 

Your voice is breathless and needy, and so fucking desperate when you speak into the silence, “Just tell me what to do, Father.”

“Okay,” he says. His leather shoes drag across the floor of the booth and toward the curtain that marks the exit of his side. The next word out of his mouth knocks all the air out of your lungs, “Kneel.”

You don’t even have time to question his request. Within seconds, the curtain through which you’ve stepped into the confessional booth is torn to the side, and there he is, in all of his glory, right in front of you, and his thick cock is straining against his black slacks.

You pinch yourself, but you’re not dreaming. This is real. This is what you wanted, and you weren’t imagining the mutual attraction due to delusions. He does want you, and he is about to break every rule in his book—and the lord’s book.

You sink to your knees. The only thing you can see on his face is pure, unbridled lust and the ugly truth of Catholic guilt. He must loathe himself for wanting you. 

Matt removes his glasses, revealing his beautiful eyes to you. In the dim candlelight, they appear almost black.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” you ask.

His hand brushes your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He steps into the booth and closes the curtain behind him. “Tonight, call me Matt.”

That is the last thing he says before he gets on his knees before you, and he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that is strong enough to make the angels howl.

His hand rests around your throat, feeling your pulse. He may not be able to see you with his eyes, but the way he touches you paints a perfect picture of your presence, and you feel every last ounce of his devotion. 

He explores the depth of your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, loving you. His hands feel beautifully rough against your skin, just like you imagined they would be after years of praying. He sees himself as the hands of God. A messenger. His goodness makes your heart swell and your core flood with more than unbridled arousal—this is human nature in all its emotional glory, and you no longer feel ashamed. You can’t possibly when he is holding you like this.

He exhales into your mouth—no, he breathes life into your soul. “You’re the most sinful yet purest thing I have ever laid my hands on,” Matt says.

You gasp against his luscious lips. “I wouldn’t want to make you turn your back on God, or–”

He cuts you off, “I did that when I first thought about your body on mine and coming so deep inside of you that you’ll carry me with you for days. I don’t care about God because if having him means that I can’t have you,” he says, “I don’t want him anymore.”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Turning a priest against God was never your intention, but you are not in charge of his feelings, nor will you ever be. Matt wants you badly enough to abandon religion, and you will carry that with you until the day you die. 

He lifts you back onto the edge of the wooden chair, pulling at your clothes and your undergarments. The moonlight hits his face as the cold air of the church hits your bare pussy. He looks ethereal like this, on his knees for you. His hazel eyes bore into your soul. He wears his heart on his sleeves and a collar around his neck. 

Your priest crosses his chest. He asks God for forgiveness. And then, with one gentle tug at your thighs, he buries his face in your wet cunt, and he feasts as if your sex was the last supper. As God’s disciple, he is determined to eat up every last bite offered to him. Every last drop from your cunt is his, and your lips part in a moan that echoes through the church like the bells did when it hit midnight.

“Fuck,” you cry out. 

He flattens his tongue against you, licking a long stripe over and then through your folds. He twirls the tip of his tongue over your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with such precision, your walls clench at the sheer explosion of pleasure. You have never felt anything like it. He turns something unholy into heaven, and you’re drowning in the river to the Garden of Eden.

His lips suction around your clit. The obscene squelching of your velvety walls fills the booth. It sounds deadly noisy to you. You want to cover your mouth to stop the moans from traveling, but he traps your hand with his, guiding them to his hand, telling you to guide him.  

Instead, one of your hands moves to his collar. It’s his turn to moan. You tug at the symbol of his priesthood, forcing his tongue deeper into your hole. He laps up your juices as though his life depends on it. 

“Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” Matt murmurs against you. 

You moan again, louder this time. He is repenting for wanting to dive into your pussy until he gets swept away by the tide, but it is far too late to back out now. Your pleasure has become his priority. 

“Lord God,” he repeats, “in your goodness have mercy on me.”

The pleasure is turning into a tight knot in your lower abdomen. You can feel it consuming you and your senses. You’re floating. The light at the end of the tunnel is not so far out of reach anymore. Every suck and every lick at your folds, and every thrust of his tongue into your tight walls pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

In your goodness, have mercy on me. 

He bites down lightly on your clit. Your toes curl, and his name comes out in a groan.

Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. 

Right now, you are his God. By drinking your arousal like holy water and pushing you toward an orgasm he is repenting. The symbolism makes your heels dig into his back as you buck your hips against his mouth, and when he adds one of those thick fingers, curling them up against that sweet spot inside of you, you can barely stand it anymore.

Create me in a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.

“God, Matthew!” your moan interrupts his plea for penance only briefly.

He swats your thigh. “No blasphemy when I feast at the altar,” he says. The vibration of his voice adds to the knot, tightening it, and threatening it to burst.

You’re almost there. Almost…

“Have mercy on me, a sinner,” he continues. His tongue slides between your folds once again, gathering your slit. His fingers curl upward again. He’s mixing different prayers, or maybe these are his own words, but you are not sure how much longer you can hold it. But he wants you to hold it. You don’t want to disappoint the man who is worshiping at your feet, your pussy, his altar, and you are his salvation as much as you are his saving grace.

“In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” he prays, “I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things—but fuck, I don’t.” 

Does that mean he loves you? It is too soon to tell that, but he is devoted, and devotion can be just as sinfully sweet as the rawest feeling of love.

“Have mercy on me, God. Amen!”

His collar is starting to tear under your vice grip. 

Matt thrusts his digit into you until it disappears, and he finally decides to show the mercy he was begging for to you. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says. 

Your thighs lock around his head as the knot breaks in two. You come, hard, and the wave tears him down with you, shooting his cum into his slacks like the good Catholic boy he is.

You let go of his collar when your orgasm has done its damage. 

“No,” he stops you. 

“No?” you ask, still breathless.

“No,” he says, lifting his head to grin at you, not like a man of God but the Devil himself. “I have not done nearly enough penance.”

As a priest, Matt is used to being on his knees until they’re bruised; until he can’t stand straight anymore, so he has to remain there, cowering before a God he more often than not does not believe in.

Before you can protest, he dives back into your endless ocean, and you have no choice but to lean back and take it. 

He is not the only one doing penance tonight, after all—you both are. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 7: Costumes | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.7k (this is going to be the longest one)

Warnings: 18+, PWP, costumes, a lot of sacrilegious activities, party sex, dirty talk, no protection (wrap it!!), afab reader but no pronouns are used, maybe slightly ooc matt but i am too tired to care. it's porn.

Summary: You may have fucked up on picking costumes for Marci's Halloween party, but at least Matt looks hot, right? Surely this won't awaken anything in the two of you- right?

A/N: Hi! I kind of got carried away on this one, there's probably a lot off repeat phrases, but this is the late day 7 and the late day 8 should be coming tonight as well but if not: oops. Also cmon, i had to make it a priest costime.

It had taken months of begging and persuasion to get Matt to even consider putting on a costume for halloween. Much less a shitty priest costume that you had snagged from the local party shop two hours before Marci’s ‘ghoul gala’ party. You’re not exactly sure how to tell Matt what the two of you will be going as, the ‘hot nun’ costume you snagged alongside his currently laying on his bed in front of you as you contemplate your options. 

“It could be worse,” you nearly jump out of your skin, having forgotten you called Karen for help, her slightly glitched voice coming through your phone. Sighing, you pick up your costume and open the packaging, allowing the spandex like material to fall out onto the sheets. It’s incredibly skimpy considering what it’s portraying, the slats on the long skirt allowing most of your legs to be visible. Obviously the holy grail of it all, the wimple cutting off at your collarbones to allow a deep V to run down your chest “how can it be worse than this Karen, truly. I mean I could spit on a bible, maybe then-” 

“You’re being dramatic, I’m sure Matt will love it.” 

“I think Matt is going to have a stroke, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” you remark dryly, biting back a smile when Karen snorts. 

“Well he just left the office not too long ago so he should be back to you soon. Marci’s thing starts in about an hour, Foggy left the office in costume so I assume he’s more than stressed about it.”

“Oh i’m sure he’ll feel better when we get there,” you laugh, perking up when you hear the door click shut “Matt just got home, i’ll see you at the party okay bye!”

“Was that Karen?” Matt asks, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yeah,” you speak, voice tight as you prepare yourself to tell him about your outfits for the night. He notices immediately, concerned questions spilling from his mouth and you brush off each one, assuring him that you’re okay before pulling from his hold to grab his packaged costume. You turn back and hold it out in front of him, biting your lip when he takes it from you, squeezing the plastic that encloses it. 

You take the chance as soon as he begins to open it “don’t be mad at me.”

Matt pauses, sunglasses turning in your direction as he sighs “what did you do?”

-

The venue was huge, and you suddenly understood why Marci had spent so much money on it. You had been correct about Foggy’s mood improving when you showed up, the neutral look on his expression immediately turning into one of disbelief and elation. “You’re kidding me,” Foggy laughs, walking directly to Matt and pulling him into a hug before holding him back at arm's length. Matt is tense, you can feel it, but god he looks so hot, so you can’t find it in yourself to be that worried. The clerical collar accentuates the muscle and veins in his neck, adam's apple bobbing against it when he leans toward you to speak. “At least act like you’re not getting wet right now,” Matt grits his teeth, his volume dropped low enough so only you can hear.

Foggy’s voice is immediately drowned out by the rush in your ears, your thighs clenching together, his words like a warm rush through your body. “I need a drink,” you manage to spit out, weaving through the group of people until you reach the cooler on the opposite side of the room, pulling a seagram and beer from the ice. You’re half tempted to climb in, just to cool the heat that is spreading to the end of all your limbs and maybe clear your head. The beating in your chest is rapid, heavy thumps against your ribcage as your heart repeats what Matt has just said to you over and over and over, and you know for a fact that he’s listening to it purely because of the smirk that tugs his lips as you walk back towards him. 

“Fancy a drink, father?” you raise your voice over the music to tease, handing the bottle to him with a bit more force than intended. Matt doesn’t know what he expects to feel when father slips off your tongue with such carnality, but lust was not one of them. It burns fiery in his chest, everything he has ever been taught about Thou shall not covet suddenly thrown out the window. You see the dilemma in the shape of the sharp inhale Matt takes, jaw clenching tight enough to see the muscle work.

“You’re treading an incredibly thin line here, sweetheart,” Matt warns, hand going to rest on the base of your spine before pulling you flush to his . The open slats of your costume causes your legs to brush against his pants, the thin fabric not doing much to cover the feeling of his hardening cock against you. “What?” you say breathlessly, hoping the thumping of music will drown out everything you say “you can’t handle it father? Do you need me to confess my sins?” The pressure against your lower back increases, as does your heart rate. 

“You don’t need to confess them,” Matt replies smoothly “I’ll fuck them out of you.”

There’s a moment of pause as you gasp and Matt’s head cocks to the side as he focuses on something, bottle being taken from your hand and set on a table, his glasses nearly black mixed with the deep red lighting of the room. Grabbing your hand, Matt begins to tug you to the back of the venue, passing by people with ease and you hope that it’s too dark for anyone to notice the blind man leading you instead of the other way around. Soon enough he’s at a door, twisting the handle and pulling you inside. It’s a washroom, also bled in the same crimson lighting as if a bloodied glass was placed in front of your eyes. It’s giving you a headache. 

“Is this what you wanted? Play a game of blasphemy until I get fed up and make you feel good?” Matt twists the lock on the door and presses you forward until your thighs hit the sink, his breathing ragged and heavy against your back. The costumes may have been unplanned, but your choice of words throughout the night had not. This is what you wanted, but the admittance of it out loud seemed more like desecration than anything else. You do it anyway.

“Yes,” you grin, pressing your ass back into him. Pride blooms in your chest when he chokes out a moan, fingers frantically pulling the skirt up to bunch at your waist before undoing his belt and pants. Matt’s hand rests between your shoulder blades, pressing you forward to bend over the porcelain. You blink back the haze in your eyes glancing up at the mirror inches in front of your face to peek at him, the sight of the clergy shirt ridden up his stomach revealing his hand fisting his cock enough to make you whimper. 

You’ve never seen Matt so worked up before, and something tells you this is a subject you’ll have to tap into again at a later time. Right now though, he’s pressing into you slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your cunt taking him in. “Made for me,” he murmurs before pulling his hips back just the slightest to press in further than before. 

The counter digs into your legs with each roll of his hips, moans tumbling past your lips with no hesitation, your body responding to him as it always does. “Oh my god Matty, so good,” you whimper, eyes pinching shut. No one has ever made you feel like Matt has, romantically or physically, the call of his body always pulling a response from yours. Your hands press against the tiled wall, eyes blinking open and glancing over him in the reflection catching the quick dip of his head, his hips stalling momentarily. 

One hand leaves your hips to grip the white collar, pulling on it “gotta be quiet now sweetheart, someone’s waiting outside.The music is loud, but so are you.” Once it tugs free he reaches around to your face, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite,” he instructs, voice ragged and terse. You do, clenching your teeth onto it to keep from crying out when his hips slam back against you. Your pussy clenches around him as your knees shake, the only thing keeping you from falling being the sink you’re bent over.

“Being so good sweetheart, need you to cum for me,” Matt moans, almost unheard through the ringing in your ears and hum of the outside music. Small shocks spark along your skin when his fingers find your clit, rubbing and applying pressure that has you keening, face falling forward to press against the cool metal of the faucet. He knows exactly how to play you like an instrument, knows how to make you sing the prettiest songs for him like this, and he knows it. You can hear his cocky chuckle when your legs begin to shiver, hands slipping from their spot on the wall.

Everything seems to slow except for your breathing, your orgasm racking up your spine and down your legs, inching through to your fingers and it takes everything in you to keep the collar clenched in your mouth as to not alert whoever may be lurking by the door. Matt praises you through it, slowing his thrusts but not stopping, waiting until he knows you’re coherent enough to hear him to speak. 

“That’s it, baby, you did so amazing,” Matt leans forward to press a kiss to the back of your head, pulling the white fabric from your lips “think you can do another?” He rolls his hips into yours once more, hitting something inside you that makes the red lighting of the room turn to white. You hum, pushing back against him.

“Yes, father.”

[spider-bren]

Holy Hands Will They Make Me A Sinner | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairings: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Tags: Priest Matt Murdock, Married Matt Murdock, Mention of sexual desires, Catholic Confessional

Summary: Priest Matt is the object of your desire and you confess to your sins

______

What does that say about me that I was able to tempt the devil?

______

You walked into the church, echoes of your footsteps loud in the silence of the vast space. A breath escaped you. Knowing. Always knowing the weight of your sins on your shoulders. It was with you everywhere you went. Could have been tattooed on your skin for all to see. You slid into the confessional booth and drew back the curtains. You knew who was behind there. Whose face you saw every night before you went to bed. 

"Are you there, Father Murdock?" 

A pause. Every nerve ending ignited at the sound of his voice. 

"I am. What brings you here today?" 

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you breathed. 

You were supposed to say the usual routine : it's been __ days since my last confession… but you were past such things. You came here sometimes just to talk. To confess privately. He knew why you were here. You came every day now. 

"I lust after a married man," you began again, as if he didn't know, as if they haven't been talking about this for weeks. 

"Twenty Hail Mary's." 

"What will that do, Father?" It was pointless. Same thing over and over. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't fight it. "Neither you or Mary can save me now. I keep thinking. These thoughts late at night. Do I tempt him as well? Does he feel for me as well?" 

"That's not advised," he simply said. 

"But I want him to be as wretched as I am. Because it's a sickness, Father, and I want him to be plagued as well." 

"You shouldn't bring people into your own sin." 

You nearly rolled your eyes. 

"Father, what sins do you commit?" 

"I'm human, much like you. There are things I also have to contend with." 

"Like what?" 

He chuckled faintly. "You want an example?"

"Yes, please, Father." 

"I...I had sex before. Before. Before my sanctioned marriage to Karen." 

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You could feel the heat flush down your body at the thought– the thought that he had done all those things. Images of him flooded through your mind. His back. His teeth baring into a growl. Deep guttural groans. His body moving, his hips thrusting. You blinked. 

"How many times?" You asked. 

You heard the struggle in his voice. "A lot." 

"How much is a lot?" 

"….a lot. And sometimes I feel I cannot escape my past. It's part of who I am. The devil is never far away." 

"Do you long for it? The past?"

"More than I want to admit." 

"Oscar Wilde said the only way to resist temptation is to yield to it," you added. 

"Oscar Wilde was a sinful man by the church's standards." And you could tell he was smiling. 

"So you think lust is a sin? Do you not lust after your wife?" 

He cleared his throat. "I have personal relations with my wife not to be discussed here." 

"So you've never got a hard on when your wife hugs you? When you feel her body pressed against yours? When you smell her perfume and hear her breathing in your ear‽ When you touch her skin? When she whispers things to you? Is she not the only one that can tempt you?" 

There was a heavy stillness. You practically heard him breathing hard through the wall separating the two of you. 

"I know what it's like to be tempted. I know how it feels to be consumed in it. I urge you to not succumb to these feelings." 

"What if I have already, Father? What if I am just waiting to do something about it?" 

"What would you do?" 

The question stunned you. He had never asked this before. Never wanted to know your lustful thoughts. 

"I have patience. Although I want my desires to be fulfilled, I can wait until I know he wants me just as much. I'm curious to see how easy it would be. How loyal he is. How far he would go to resist me. I think my words would be enough. I wouldn't have to tempt him with my body." 

He licked his lips.

[house-of-slayterr]

These pictures of Mathew and Lucifer 😩😩😩 are you fucking me?!? Hello???

[star-crossed-sluts]

Matt Murdock X Chubby!Fem!Reader

Contents: 2.2k words, love confession/discussion, cheeky reader, giggly sex, chubby female reader, slight insecure reader but that's quickly solved, mentions of bullying regarding weight though very brief

Minors DNI

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You've dealt with strange looks all your life. It wasn't surprising their whispers had infiltrated your mind. Often you managed to catch yourself, stopping the thoughts that weren't quite yours. When you first met Matt, the most frequent one was, of course, you could only get a blind man to like you. It was cruel, and you tried to chase it away every time, but there was a small part of you that thought, if only I can keep him from touching me, we can go on like this. 

Because you were a fool. 

He always grabs your hips first, almost a warning of the devil to come. 

“What’re you doing up,” he rumbled against your neck, voice thick with sleep. You're half-sure he’s subconsciously tracking how long you've been away from his arms every night, waking himself when the timer passes your usual bathroom breaks’ duration. 

His hands push even further, rubbing your sides until he's gripped two handfuls of your soft stomach. Bare chest plastered against your back, his grip manhandling your hips back to meet his. You used to shy away from his touch, wanting to keep the you from reality separate from the you he's crafted in his mind's eye. 

Little hard to feel ashamed of your body when he was rocking his hard-on against your ass.

“You're insatiable, Matthew.” 

His groan was pained, like you were terribly twisting his arm instead of letting him fondle you in the kitchenette. “Don't call me Matthew,” he griped, one hand searching for the bottom of your nightshirt. “Reminds me of my priest.” 

You leaned into him, a fond smile playing on your lips as he found the edge of your panties, starting to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Because you’re such an altar boy,” you joked as his fingers trailed the hem, outlining the curve where your leg met your mound. You know the moment he thinks of a retort, because his lips twitch against your pulse.

“Well, I do seem to spend a lot of time on my knees-” He burst into laughter as your elbow came back at him, letting you attack his ribs to distract you from the way his hand explored your upper thigh. “Abuse,” he accused, “attacking a blind man!”

“It’s alright, I know a great lawyer.”

Matt chuckled against the thrumming vein in your neck, his grip on your stomach pulling you tighter against him. “Yeah? You know, my rates are pretty steep, but I think we can come up with some alternative payment.”

“I was talking about Foggy.”

His laugh flew out of him, taken completely off guard, and sent you into manic giggles right along with him, throwing yourself back against his chest to hold you upright. “You're terrible,” he cackled, tugging you to shuffle backwards to the bedroom with him. “Come back to bed, trouble.” 

“Oh, don't you start with me,” you faux-threatened, but still gave in and helped him navigate the living room. “You're so much more trouble than I am.” 

He pretended to mull it over, hmm-ing and mmm-ing between soft kisses on your neck. “Alright,” he decided, “I'll let you have that one. Y'know, since you obviously need a win right now.” 

You hit the mattress, helping each other climb into bed like you hadn't been in months, as opposed to the twenty minutes it took you to make and drink your sleep aid. Only when you were wrapped in each other's arms again did you gush, “oh, yes, obviously. How can I thank you, Matty?”

Who could ever think you were anything but beautiful - that he thought you were anything but stunning - when he got such an eager, bashful grin at the suggestion. When his entire face lit up with a pink hue, as if he hasn't helped himself to your body any chance he got. How long have you lived together, and he still got that cute crinkle in the corners of his eyes with the force of his beaming as he dove for your lips. 

“Y'know,” he murmured into your mouth, “I was disappointed when I woke up and you were gone.” 

You dragged your hands down his bare back, snapping his waistband with a grin. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he emphasized, like he was offended by the teasing tone you took with him, snapping your underwear. A warning that he was ready to give as good as he got. “It's not nice to leave your boyfriend all alone in bed.”

You hummed, pretending to really consider that as you let him pull you to straddle his hips. He helped you out of your night shirt, tossing the thin fabric aside and letting out a pleased groan as you plastered your chest to his. You dragged your lips softly over his jaw, a smile twitching into place as he chased you, trying to catch a kiss. “Are you saying you think I should make it up to you?” 

“I'm saying it's been entirely too long since you've sat on my face.” 

A laugh burst from you at that, even as Matt peeled your underwear down your thighs. “Oh, yes, it's already been several days!”

“Exactly: it's been days,” he groaned, offering his hands for you to balance as you tossed around to escape the cotton around your knees, working them down one leg, then the other. 

“Next time,” you promised with a soft kiss, nimble fingers working the strings on his pants. “I drank my-”

“Your sleepy girl mocktail?” He grinned like he could feel your embarrassed glare, kissing the pout off your lips. “Can taste it. You added honey tonight?” 

“I needed something to make it sweeter,” you huffed. A tap on his hip and he lifted them for you, helping you work his pants off. You couldn't help a smile as his dick slapped his stomach, leaving a smudge of pearly precum on his smooth skin. “You're such an evil man,” you accused, wrapping your fingers around his base to watch the way his hips jerked into your palm. A stroke with your thumb along that thick vein and he leaked another stream, dripping down the side of him and onto your hand. “You're this hard when you've been teasing your poor girlfriend?” 

Your hips moved on their own when he slid two thick fingers between his lips, grinding against him as he laved his tongue over the digits. That smug grin you hated to love spread across his face as his wet fingers fit themselves to your slit, one rubbing soft shapes into your clit while the other pressed inside you. “My poor girlfriend,” he mused, “who never gets off on teasing me?” 

You shut him up with a kiss, trying to smother his chuckles that told you he knew exactly what you were doing. Still, it didn't stop him from taking advantage, pressing his tongue into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. The bitterness of the tart cherry juice and the sweetness of the honey from your drink dancing on his tongue, disappointingly hiding the taste of you that he's begun to crave. If he pushed deeper, he could almost imagine he found it again, in the back of your throat where nothing could reach but him. Somehow it felt even more intimate than the way you worked each other up with your hands: being the only one to know what you taste like behind the toothpaste and soda you cycled through daily. 

Matt's no idiot. He hears the comments you get, feels the stares - sometimes even more than you do. He wished he could find a way to tell you how wrong they were, but how would he even begin? How do you tell someone that when you wake up alone, the first thing you do is listen for where your girlfriend’s gone? That you could sculpt her exactly from how much you touch her, desperate to commit her to memory. How do you tell someone that even without your sight, your every sense is devoted to her?

He supposed he could settle for making you see stars while he figured it out.

You grinned against Matt's lips, a slight giggle falling out, as he rolled you onto your back. You were always tempted to make fun of him for his favorite position, but there was nothing Catholic about the way he took you.

Your hands kept working his cock as he arranged you - hooking your knees over the crooks of his elbows so he could feel your thick thighs pressed against him - to hear him curse under his breath. “Careful,” he warned, kissing his way down the side of your neck, “or we'll be up all night,”

“Mm, is that supposed to discourage me?” 

A strained laugh against your tender skin as you gave a particularly harsh tug. “You think you're so cute,” he managed out, trying to sound anything other than reverent.

You shared a chaste kiss as you guided him between your thighs. “I'm adorable,”

“Yes, you are. Arms around my neck, angel.” 

You always ended up the same way when one or the other needed some love. Nose to nose, lips glancing off each other like you were shy teenagers again. Your legs over Matt's arms gave him the feeling of holding you completely, letting his hands wander to feel every reaction your body gave him. Your arms around his neck, letting you claw up his back or card through his soft hair, pull his mouth wherever you wanted it. 

A match made in heaven. 

Matt had long since broken you of your bad habit to muffle yourself, the breathy moan falling unhindered from your lips as he pressed into you like coming home. Your voice rang in the empty bedroom, more beautiful than any song, perfectly accompanied by the slick sounds from your cunt as he started a slow, grinding pace. Your hands clenched and unclenched, scratching the base of his neck as you lost yourselves in each other. Lips connected in passing swipes, sharing a deep kiss and almost separating before diving back in. His fingers traced every curve, dip and fold of your soft skin, reveling in your body the way only a man truly in love could. 

The word haunted him until he told you. “Love you,” he managed through heaving breaths, soft and quiet in the privacy of the bed you shared. Then, as if afraid you hadn’t heard him, he said it louder. “I’m in love with you, y’know that?” 

“Matty,”

A great big grin spread over his face when you whined, ankles locking together behind him like you thought he’d stop talking if he fucked you deeper. “Why so shy,” he hummed, stealing another wet kiss. “You didn’t know that? I don’t tell you enough?” He felt your feet kick and your lips turn into a pout, laughing at your mini fit. 

“‘S different,” you insisted, dragging him back to your lips, only to pull him back once you’ve thought of a defense. “In love is bigger than love.” 

It’s a conversation you had in the early stages, when friendship was just barely turning into something more, when you were both stuck dropping hints, hoping the other would make the leap. You didn’t think he remembered until he managed to quote you with his hips pressed into yours. “‘Love is a feeling you can’t control, being in love is a choice- a commitment,’ I know.” He plunged into you as deeply as he could, bringing your lips to his with his palms cupping your round cheeks. He only pulled back when you were both struggling to breathe, searching each other’s air for anything you could get from it. “I,” he enunciated carefully, making sure he left no room for misinterpretation, “am hopelessly in love with you, darling. I choose you every hour of the day. I would choose you in a room of women, I would choose you if you were a worm, and in every other ridiculous scenario that you let keep you up at night.” He heard your lips part as your jaw went slack, smelled the salt of your budding tears as he ranted to you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I know it’s bigger, and you don’t have-”

“I’m in love with you.”

He felt his heart thump in his chest, beating its way out as you dragged him down to your level, smacking a hundred split-second kisses to every inch of his face. “I love you, I am in love with you, I would pick you- I love you so much, Matty!” 

He pulled your hips up higher on his lap so he could get closer to you, arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. His firm body pressing into your soft one like he could make a home in your chest, let you surround him until you would never have to be apart. 

“I hope you realize we’ll definitely be up all night now,”

“I’m not the one who has court tomorrow,” 

A giddy laugh smothered in the crook of your neck as his hips started pumping into you again. “You are trouble,”

You pressed your lips to his temple. “Perfect match for you, then.”

“Yes, you are.”

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 23]]

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: 3.2k

ao3 link

Matt’s eyes flutter shut as you smooth your thumbs over his forehead. The urge to press forward into your touch is nearly overwhelming, but he controls himself. Your fingers run down his temple and to the apples of his cheeks, oh so gently rubbing sunblock into his skin. He doesn’t remember the last time he used the product, but his sweet Minnie demanded he wear it, and who is he to deny his daughter on her birthday?

You are in complete Mom mode - focused on making sure all his exposed skin is covered - so you don’t realize how intimate you are being with him. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you back - to hold your waist and rub your arms and feel you against him. It is far from the first time he’s felt this and mentally repeating the Lord’s Prayer helps him keep his thoughts from straying. 

Especially when your fingers dance down to his neck. 

He may or may not have fantasies about you pressing your hand into his windpipe while riding him. He may or may not have finally given into his mother’s pressures about talking to the new priest because he was beginning to feel guilty about how often he may or may not have touched himself to those fantasies. 

Matt wants so badly to show you how much he loves you, but you aren’t ready for it yet, and he understands. You’ve accepted him for who he is and what he does. You want to know more and aren’t accusatory when you ask questions. You’ve been snatched up into his whirlwind of a life and are adjusting in a way he didn’t think was possible, but you are still adjusting and he’s not going to push more onto you. 

You’ve been slow to accept physical gestures and as much as it pains him, he’s happy to go at your pace. He cherishes each moment you let him hold you and his heart soars when you are the one to initiate it. You don’t flinch or pull back when he rests a hand on your hip or back. Slow and steady wins the race and if you want to stroll, he’ll stroll right along with you.

“All done,” you say, breaking him from his thoughts as you step away. “We shouldn’t be out here long enough that we will need to reapply.”

“Thank you,” he replies. He puts his glasses back on and he follows your movements as you put the sunscreen back in your purse. “Do you need help with anything?”

The second phase of Minnie’s Birthday Bash Weekend - after her princess breakfast and makeover - is the Park Party. Multiple blankets have been laid out for everyone to sit on and the wagon is filled to the brim with supplies - there’s a drink cooler, a snack cooler, a series of toys Minnie insisted they add so no one gets bored, and tucked in the corner, unopened presents they picked up from Sister Maggie. Foggy showed up early so he could enjoy the walk to the park with the birthday girl and Karen and Frank should be arriving soon. 

Matt knows you are going to fuss over the details and try to play Good Host, and he wants you to relax and have a good time instead. 

But sometimes, he thinks fussing is your idea of fun. You make a shooing motion at him and there is a bit of a laugh in your voice when you tell him, “Go play with your daughter.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Foggy and Minnie are on the sidewalk, setting up her newest toy. Fog got Mouse some sort of pogo stick for toddlers and from her excited explanation to him, it is pink and princess themed. Matt has no idea how a pogo stick for toddlers could possibly work - Minnie can barely balance on one leg - but you seemed to have no issue with the device, so he chalks it up to having missed something in the explanation that would be obvious to a sighted person. 

“Okay, squirt. Go ahead and step on,” Foggy tells Minnie. Matt can sense some sort of small platform that his little one steps onto, then she is being handed something that reminds him of a bike handle. “Okay. Try jumping.”

Mouse jumps straight up, and to his surprise, the little platform bounces when it hits the ground again, sending her back up about half an inch. That seems like more than enough height for her, as she lets out an absolutely delighted scream and quickly starts to repeat the motion. 

She bounces four times before she loses her balance and falls off the platform, but Matt doesn’t even get the chance to step forward to help her. She’s right back on and jumping in place - beaming ear to ear. 

“Look at you go!” Foggy cooes and Matt can’t help but grin. “You are a little hopping machine!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Mouse cheers as she does just that. “Hop! Hop! Hop!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Both he and Fog echo, and they are on the same wavelength, because they both mimic her by bouncing on the balls of their feet. 

Matt can sense you aiming your phone at Mouse, most likely taking a picture or filming them, so he quickly prompts her, hoping for a cute moment. “Sweetie, what do you say to Foggy?”

“Thank you, Froggy, you are the bestest!” 

“You are very welcome, birthday girl!” Fog, of course, quickly turns to Matt to jokingly rub in, “Hear that, Murdock? I’m the bestest.” 

Minnie stumbles again and Matt realizes she will not need help unless she trips and falls to the ground. She’s back to bouncing within a second and defending his honor. 

“You’re the bestest, but Daddy’s Super Bestest and Mommy is Super-Duper Bestest.”

Foggy must pull a face, because both you and Minnie laugh before he gives in, “Okay, I will allow this because it is your birthday. But no take backsies. I’m the bestest.”

“No take backsies!” Mouse quickly parrots before turning her attention back to her toy. She dissolves into giggles as she jumps up and down and he can only imagine how big her smile must be.

He takes a moment to focus in on one of the gifts he got her. He didn’t get called Bestest for it, but Matt hopes it will be something she grows to cherish. He spent a pretty penny to get it custom made as he was incredibly particular about the quality, but it was more than worth it - a gold heart necklace with ‘I love you’ in Braille on one side, and on the other, the date he found out she existed. 

He knows she can’t always wear it - it is a choking hazard until she’s older - but right now it is bumping against her manubrium and he can’t help but smile and reach to fiddle with the bracelet hanging on his wrist. 

It has become almost like a rosary to him. When he’s thinking, he finds himself pulling the beads up to go around his hand and he will thumb at them, tracing over the hearts his sweet Minnie gave him. The only time he doesn’t wear it is when he’s out on Patrol - and that is only because he’s scared he’ll end up breaking it. Otherwise, he has it on - asleep, in the shower, in court - Matt proudly wears his friendship bracelet.

Of course, no one is none the wiser to his private moment. Foggy continues to encourage Mouse to bounce and enjoy her gift. Matt is pretty sure this is one of the toys she is going to run into the ground because she uses it so much. 

“Hey, Fog, where did you get this thing?” 

“Online,” his friend quickly replies. “I’ll send you the link. One of the Littles got one for their birthday and loved it, so I went with a peer-reviewed product instead of trying my luck on something unknown.”

“I didn’t even know this existed,” you say from your spot on the blankets. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Foggy says with an uptick in his voice, indicating he is smiling. “But I’ll warn you, some of them come with a squeaker in them. I hunted for the one without one. I wanted to take pity on the bat-ears.”

Matt throws back his head as he laughs and concedes, “Okay, maybe you are the Bestest.”

“I knew it!”

“Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest!” Minnie starts to chant as she plays. Foggy joins her and Matt claps along for a moment. 

You laugh at them, and it is one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard - it is you actually being truly happy.

The joy is cut short, and it morphs into panic when Minnie very suddenly drops her pogo stick and takes off running towards the other side of the park. Her movements are so quick and erratic that Matt doesn’t react right away, having not anticipated them. You scramble up to chase her just as he begins to move to do the same.

“Minnie! Come back here!” You shout as you hurry after your daughter.

Matt opens up his senses, needing to know what has Minnie so excited that it overrode her being the shy little angel he’s used to. He zeroes in on it instantly.

Karen, Frank, and Frank’s dog Max have just arrived, parking on the street outside the green space. Minnie is making a beeline right towards them, but luckily, her little legs are no match for Matt and he scoops her up before she can get too far from their picnic. She instantly begins to struggle against him, flailing and kicking and trying her best to fight his hold, but he turns her around and forces her onto his hip. 

“Minnie, you cannot run off!” he chastises as you catch up to them. “You know better than that. You know you need to stay with us.”

“It’s Mister Frank and he has a doggie!” She tries to explain, clearly excited and overly enthusiastic, but Matt won’t be swayed. “I gotta go say hi to him! And asks if I can play with his doggie! I’ve never played with a doggie! I wanna play with the doggie!”

“It’s dangerous to just run off. You have to ask Mommy or me first.” Matt tells her. He’s trying to remain calm, but the fear from her just running away is still in his system. He knows he can’t yell or scold her - it’s her special day and she just got too excited, but he needs her to know that isn’t okay.

Luckily, you seem to know how to handle this.

“No running off,” you emphasize, putting your hand on her back and almost crowding her into Matt, which he is more than okay with. “Part of being a Big Girl is knowing the rules. If you can’t follow the rules, what happens?”

Minnie deflates against him, all her jubilation evaporating, and guilt pools in his chest as his precious little baby mumbles out, “We go home.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t wanna go home. I wanna play with Froggy more and Mister Frank and his doggie.” 

You reach up to push some of her hair out of her face and gently comfort her, “we’re not going to go home. But you gotta be good, okay? Mister Frank and Karen are coming to us. You don’t have to run to them, okay?”

“Okay.”

It seems like Minnie will not bolt if Matt sets her down, so he takes that chance. She fusses with smoothing out her princess dress for a moment and patting it free of any dust before looking up at you, “When he gets close can I go say hi? Please? Please? Please?”

She asks so sweetly it is a miracle you don’t cave immediately. You put your hands on your hips as you pretend to think over your answer. After a few moments, you reply, “When he gets as close to us as we are to Froggy, you can go say hi.”

Minnie whips around to judge the distance - she had only gotten about thirty or forty feet before Matt caught her - before turning back. She literally bounces from foot to foot as she waits for Frank and Karen to get close enough that she can run to them and that helps to dissipate the lingering guilt he has. He defaults to you to give the ‘okay’ signal, and when you do, Minnie takes off again at a speed he didn’t think toddlers could achieve. 

“Mister Frank! Mister Frank! It’s my birthday!” she yells as she streaks towards him. 

Matt isn’t exactly keen on Minnie’s excitement for Frank, but he accepts the man is entering his circle more now that he and Karen are in a relationship. When they aren’t butting heads about the morality of killing, he thinks he and Frank get along well enough. They take jabs at each other and even if it can be scathing, neither of them takes it personally. Danger follows Frank and Matt is acutely aware of that, but he also has some je ne sai quoi with kids and Minnie is not immune to it. 

You and Matt follow after your daughter while Frank passes off Max’s leash to Karen so he can catch the toddler rocket coming right at him. The Devil in Matt’s chest growls with jealousy and possessiveness when Frank picks Mouse up to hold her without any shyness from his little one and she’s tossed slightly up into the air.

“It’s your birthday? Well, it’s a good thing we got all those presents in the truck, then, ain’t it, Karen?”

“I wonder who they could be for,” Karen teases and Minnie turns into a giggling mess, hiding her hands in her face.

“Are they for me?” She asks, so sweet and genuine and not at all greedy. Matt’s heart glows with how pure his daughter is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

“It is your birthday,” Frank tells her and that just makes her more delighted.

“I’m getting so many presents! Mommy gave me presents and Daddy gave me presents and Froggy gave me presents and Froggy’s Mommy gave me presents AND…and Daddy’s Mommy gave me presents. That’s like…” She pauses and lifts up her hands in front of her face and Matt thinks she must be trying to count. Finally, she decides on a number, “That’s like twelve presents!”

She certainly received more than twelve presents from you alone - there were so many components to her new kitchen set - but he knows everyone understands what she means. Minnie is being absolutely spoiled for her birthday. 

“That is a lot of presents!” Karen cooes, “You aren’t tired from opening them all?”

“Not uh! I’m a Big Girl!” 

“We can have a second round of opening presents after the park,” you inform Minnie and even without his enhanced hearing, he can tell you are smiling - you sound so happy. “We can have cake at home, and you can show everyone what you got.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Frank says, bouncing Mouse in his arms a little. “What do you say, Princess?”

She nods eagerly, “A good plan!” 

You all begin to walk back towards the picnic - and Foggy, who has relocated the pogo stick to the blankets - and Minnie gets to the next order of business. 

“Can I pet your doggie?” 

Max seems to know he’s being talked about, as he starts making little noises and adding a wiggle to his walk. Matt has met the dog a few times now and even he admits the animal is a sweet one, especially for an ex-fighting dog. He knows that Frank didn’t keep Max initially, but when he resettled in New York a few months ago, the dog also reappeared. Matt doesn’t question it - he thinks caring for the dog is good for Frank and Karen absolutely adores him. 

“Do you know how to pet a dog?” Frank asks, amusement clear in his voice.

Minnie shakes her head, but as always, has a solution, “No, but I can learns! Mommy says…Mommy says when we don’t know something, we can learn it by askings! I can asks my tablet!” She pauses, then dramatically slaps her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t have my tablet, its at home.” 

They all laugh at her antics and as they approach their picnic, Frank sets Minnie down, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can teach you. And I can show you how to play fetch, too.”

Karen goes to hug Foggy a hello, while you and she start to strike up a conversation catching up. Matt decides to allow you the time to have an adult moment, and he keeps his attention on Minnie, Frank, and Max. 

“Before you can pet him, you need to introduce yourself,” Frank starts, moving to sit down on the blankets as he does. Minnie plops down beside him and Matt takes a seat beside her. “You need to hold out your hand so he can sniff it. He can’t talk, so he gets to know you through smell.”

He demonstrates by holding out his hand to Max. The dog snuffles at it, then begins to lick at Frank, his tail starting to wag. Matt can practically feel Minnie analyzing what is happening, then after a moment, she sticks her little hand out towards Max. The dog clearly gets excited by this and turns his big head towards his daughter. He could so very easily bite off her whole arm - Minnie is small for her age and Max is a big dog - but instead he oh so gently presses his nose to her skin before giving it a tiny lick. 

“He likes me!” Minnie says in a whisper-gasp and Matt tries his best to not laugh. 

“He does, he wants to be your friend,” Frank tells her.

“I wanna be his friend, too!” She declares before mimicking Max by leaning in and sniffing at him loudly. He can’t hold back his amusement when she sticks out her tongue with a, “He’s stinky!”

“He’s a dog, all dogs stink,” Frank laughs, “but he’s still a good dog.”

“How do I pets him?” Mouse asks, obviously so very excited and wanting to learn how to pet Max correctly. 

Matt leans back and observes as Frank gently guides his daughter’s hands, showing her where to pet the sweet dog. He hopes this doesn’t lead to her wanting her own puppy - though she will probably spend a fair amount of time pretending Scooby is a real dog instead of her companion in trouble. 

Matt has never wanted a dog before - mostly because it has always been pitched as a guide dog and he doesn’t need one - but he wonders if his mind would change if you wanted a dog. He knows it isn’t possible in your current apartment, but what if you moved to somewhere bigger? Where Minnie could have her own bedroom and maybe you could have your own yard. 

Where, maybe, he could move in with you, and you could be a proper, traditional family. He could be with you - provide for you like he should have always been doing. He could sleep in your bed at night and tell you he loves you in the morning. Where he could tuck Minnie in before he goes on Patrol and he could learn all her Quiet Games.

Where he could protect his family.

Where he could have something he’s always wanted.

Where maybe, just maybe, Matt Murdock could finally have a home. 

--

a/n:

Every one say Happy Birthday to the Birthday girl!

part one of the birthday weekend. Sorry it is a little short We have another birthday day chapter after this then Minnie gets her Zoo Trip!

--

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

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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

[peterman-spideyparker]

Halo (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy, folks! In my slow sift through and re-editing process of fics on my laptop and in my notebooks, I've re-come across this fic. It's probably been written for, what, a year and a half? Two years? and I've waffled on it because I didn't know if I should post it. It's a continuation of Angel, but if you've read it and want to stay sitting in the angst, you can. It's still angst, but, it might make you feel better? Idk. I cried writing it and then every time I've re-read it, and I think id I tried to write more, I'd be a vicious cycle of tears. Not my best editing, but. Enjoy!

Summary: Matt is grieving your loss hard even months after your death. It's like a non-stop film reel in his mind. He's wracked with despair, and ready to submit when his angel comes to his rescue.

Warnings: ANGST (dead dove, do not eat), talk of death, wounds (stab wound, gunshot wound, blood--canon typical violence), a lot of crying, hurt comfort?, Matt has a lot of self hatred in this from guilt

Other Characters: Father Lantom, Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 1,635

Everything is too loud and too quiet at once. It’s been like that for the last couple of months since you died. His surroundings have been simultaneously amplified and dampened. He doesn’t know how to function. He hasn’t been able to figure out what life means without you. He doesn't feel as if he's living anymore.

Matt can feel when Father Lantom sits down next to him. He's been coming to church more often, as if his desperate prayers will change the past and bring you back to him. He can feel every last bit of the polyblend fibers in Father Lantom's black clothes, but it just feels like static to him. An indistinct haze. But even for as hazy as it is, for as much sensation as it is, it just makes Matt feel more numb. He tunes out Father Lantom’s words, and only when he feels his hand on his back does Matt actually pay attention to what his priest is saying.

“I was playing pool with a man once—a unique fellow with an insightful mind,” the priest starts with a breath. “He imparted words to me that were so incredibly wise it made a priest speechless. It was a simple question: ‘What is grief, if not love preserving?' As I let that sink in, he continued. He said that all those feelings—the anger, the sadness, even the hollowness, everything that brings a person to tears—that is all the unspoken love that you still have for someone. It’s a good thing, Matthew. Love . . . Love isn’t something you switch on and off like a lamp. It’s shouldn’t be—if it is, it isn’t love.”

Matt sits in the pew, his heart heavy, hurting, and crumbling.

“I keep thinking I’m going to find her at home,” Matt finally sniffles, his voice trembling. “I keep hoping that this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and we’ll be in bed and she’ll hold me the way she does after I have a bad dream. That she’ll make every bad thing I’m feeling go away.”

Father Lantom puts a careful hand in Matt’s back, and it’s enough to have him break down. 

“I miss her so much,” Matt weeps in the empty church. “I-I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Matthew . . .”

“She died in my arms,” he sobs. “I couldn’t—I should’ve—I need her. I’m lost without her.”

Father Lantom knows there’s nothing more to say as Matt lets his grief take center stage, feeling the pain course over him in violent wave after violent wave rather than pushing it down. 

This is it, he thinks. This is where he dies, on some random rooftop.

And you know what? He couldn’t care less. Being a lawyer, fighting this fight, day and night, it’s pointless. How can he try helping others when he couldn’t help the person he cared about most? When she, dying in his arms, was comforting him? This is what he deserves—it’s better than what he deserves, he thinks. This is a relatively clean death—a little bullet hole in his flesh. You were all but sliced in two. He deserves to be torn to bits for what he let happen to you . . . He deserves so much worse. But, as he lays there, bleeding out, all he can thing about is how he never deserved you. How you would have been so much better off without him.

How you’d be alive had the two of you never met.

“Matty?” he hears a gentle voice say. “Matty, I’m gonna help you sit up.”

No . . . This isn’t happening. The voice, he knows it. He thought he’d never hear it again. 

(Y/N). 

“God, you’re heavy,” you grunt as you help him sit upright, a careful, warm hand over where he was shot as the other is firm on his back. 

“Wha—Huh?” he starts to groan, panic quickly starting to bubble. 

“Matt, calm down, it’s okay,” you urge. “I’m here, angel, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

He sputters your name in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

He feels how your fingers run through his hair and down to a loving grip on his forearm. 

“Hey, Matty.”

“Sweetheart, wha—?”

“Matt, I know it’s a lot. I know. But it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“H-How?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “How?”

He listens to you let out a sigh, how your brows furrow, trying to find the best answer to his question. “Divine intervention?”

“Y-You died, (Y/N).” He smells the salt of your tears in the air. “You died in my arms. Why didn’t you hold on?” 

“I tried,” you tell him. “I wanted to. You were so scared Matt. God, I—.” You sniffle and bite your lip, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I would give anything to forget the pain on your face, Matty. But then I wouldn’t have been able to see my favorite person.” You wipe the tears away from his cheeks. “Matty, I’m not gone. I’m with you always, you know that, right?”

“I couldn’t save you.”

“You saved the city and the world from a frightening reality. You’ve done it so many times, angel.”

“That doesn’t change what I failed to do.”

“Forever the Catholic—full of guilt.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Matty, look at me. You are the best thing in the world that ever happened to me, you understand that? You made me feel so loved, so cherished, so safe, and so valued. I never felt more myself than being with you. Everything that you made me feel . . . Matt, that’s love. That’s what love is, what it does, and what it feels like. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer to have you realize that and feel the same.”

“I did, sweetheart, I felt it.” 

“Then you need to remember that feeling and let it guide you. I want you to be happy, Matt. I don’t want you to be sad forever. I can’t have that.”

“I miss you so much. I don’t think that’s ever going to stop.”

“It’s only a beautiful thing. It’s all the unexpressed love. We never get enough time with each other, Matt. But the best part of it is, Matt? We’re going to see each other again. It’s gonna be a while, but when we do?” Matt can taste the salt in your tears. “Be there as much as possible for one another, Matt. Okay? Don’t shut people out, don’t push them away because you want to protect them or because you don’t feel like you deserve happiness, because you will mourn that time you lost. Open up your heart again. It’s one of the most beautiful things you can share.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he cries as he holds onto you. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You know you don’t mean that.”

“I can’t . . . I miss waking up next to you. It keeps getting harder. It’s all crushing in on me.” He sniffles. “The apartment is loosing your smell.”

Tears roll down your cheeks at his distress. “Matt . . .”  you soothe. “I miss you more than I can say. There are absolutely no words in any language to tell you how much my heart hurts that I’m not physically with you every day.”

“Then let me stay. Don’t make me go back. Please let me stay here with you.”

“I can’t make that decision. If . . . Matty, I know you know that you’re not finished on Earth.”

“Angel . . .”

“Matty?” you say softly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Tears stream down his face as he looks at you, his pupils locking onto yours for the first time. His hand carefully cups your cheek, afraid to touch you—like you’ll disappear. He gently touches your hair next, tucking it behind your ear before his thumb traces over your nose and cheek, finally brushing against your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he croaks.

“Hi, Matty.”

Holding your face in his hands, he leans in for the kiss of a lifetime, pouring every ounce of love he has into in.

“H-How . . .? I don't . . . You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he sniffles as he moves to rest his forehead against mine. “God . . . You’re just . . . You’re here. You’re perfect.”

“Those are some super senses, huh?” you joke with a wet chuckle as you rest your foreheads on one another.

“I love you so much, (Y/N). I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Pull through for me, Matt,” you plea. “You’re not done yet, my angel. I know you’re not.”

“You’re gonna be with me, huh?”

“Forever and always, every step of the way. And hey—I better not see you again until it’s your time. Actually your time.”

“Promise,” he says with a soft smile, holding your face in his hands as he looks at you with tears in his eyes, desperately trying to memorize every last detail in your face.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you more.”

He feels the burning, piercing pain in his ribs before anything else. Then, it’s the dried blood on his skin. Foggy’s muttering to himself in the kitchen about how he needs to find better friends that don’t dress up and prance around at night in ways that bring them two steps away from death.

When Matt’s eyes flutter open into a darkness he’s become accustomed to, tears begin to sting at his eyes as a fresh, strong whiff of your scent hits his nose in his apartment as if you’re walking by him like you’d done so many times before.

Forever and always.

While it hurts, Matt knows from that point on things will start to get a little easier. You're here with him, after all.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

Comments/comment reblogs from the initial post: @starr60 @paradox-brody-chase @glowstick-lesbian @cconsummatumestt @mattmurdockmylove @toracainz @alicecullenlvr @fish-wif-one-fin @zheezs14 @chimychimybangbang @sunshinemunchkin @fayeatheart @eugenedream @hotleaf-juice @writeroutoftime @messymissy @coffeeandoldermen @himboelover @l0caltiredgirl @amoonagedaydreamer @briefcasejuice @just-a-lazy-person @bustlingcrowdsxorxsilentsleepers @allegra-writes

[hellsburners]

scream his name

summary: forgive me for not being an actual priest pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: 18+ warning, sacrilege, sm/u/t, bjs and s3x a/n: i swear im writing for other characters i just had to put this out

masterlist | more matt murdock

He entered the confessional and rested his cane in the corner of the room. It was a small wooden box actually, a small crooked seat and a maroon curtain. It smelled like old wood and incense, Matt settled down and waited for the voice. 

On the other side of the booth a young seminarian was finishing up with wiping the wooden seats, making sure that the cubicle was nice and tidy. Before you could go out you heard someone enter the opposite booth. Your eyes widened, you weren't supposed to be administering confessions, those were reserved to ordained priests. 

“Father Cathal,” the voice said. It was a familiar voice, soft but deep, you always noted that he would enunciate every word perfectly. Father Cathal has been meeting with this man ever since Father Lantom passed a few years ago. They would often chat and administer confessions for the man. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Murdock but Father Cathal has been feeling ill lately, confessions are moved after mass this saturday,” you said, your voice shaking. You heard him mutter an oh. “And I’m afraid I’m not qualified to administer confessions, but if you want to I can offer some counsel. If anything worries you.” 

“You must be the seminarian Father Cathal is mentoring?” he said. 

“Yes, sorry if I was quick to call on your name it’s just that you frequent the church a lot.”

“I was raised catholic, the church has been my second home,” he uttered. His deep voice soothed you, any sense of panic was gone. You often wondered about him, how he worked as a defense attorney, and has been donating so much for the church. 

“So what bothers you Mr. Murdock?,” you felt your clerical collar tighten around your neck. 

“I’m a sinner.”

“I’m afraid we’re all sinners. From the beginning, man’s life has always been riddled with sin, just ask Adam,” you laughed. “That's why we are able to repent from our sins through this sacrament,” he laughs as well. 

At the other side of the booth Matt Murdock had loosened his tie, the top button already undone. He could hear his heart pounding. The reason why he frequents the church was not because of Father Cathal, or the sisters, not even the youth group he often helps around. He comes by the church everyday because of you. 

A smile would show in his face every time he heard your sweet voice. Calm and collected, soft and inviting. You were always near Father Cathal, Matt would notice the smell of your perfume mixed with church incense. He loved hearing you talk, offering service to the nuns and the other church staff. 

“Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet?” he said. 

You loosened your collar. “What do you mean by that Mr. Murdock?”

“Matt, just call me Matt.”

“Matt,” you corrected. He heard your heartbeat quicken, your body temperature rising. 

“God gave me someone, to—to like. But I don’t think I’m meant to feel this way about them.”

“By feel do you mean love?” you said. Your palms were wet at this point. You wondered how anyone could refuse attention from him. He was a kind and attractive man. 

“Love, lust, adoration,” his voice hitched. “I am too deep in this, I want to worship them.”

“Worship is a strong word Matt, God compels us to only worship him. To worship someone like a false god is against His word.”

“Pardon my language, but I yearn for them,” he said. “My body—it aches for him. I need your help brother.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Sweat drips down your nape, you could hear the guilt shouting at your head, but heat rises through your body, an ache forms in between your legs. You clutched your clerical collar, the mere sign of your covenant with God. 

“How can I help?” you uttered. 

“Kneel.”

Your eyes widened. What? You could hear shuffling from the other booth. The rings that held the curtain slinked to the side. “Just kneel, please,” there was something in his voice now, it was lower and more seductive. Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet? His voice echoed in your head.

Could the Lord have sent me the devil himself? 

You made the sign of the cross. Your thumb caressing your forehead, your stomach, your chest. The promise you made was wheying in, like a scale ready to fall on one side. You closed your eyes and knelt. 

You heard the booth door open. A looming shadow covering you. He had entered, his hand caressing your hair. His warm hand went to the side of your face down to your chin. He lifts your face up, your eyes open. The dim lights of the booth made his face blurry. A dark shadow over his eyes but his red lips glistening, like forbidden fruit. 

He bends down to your face, his lips meeting yours. Your cheeks were so warm, almost feverish. His hands went to your neck, gripping lightly. His tongue entered your mouth, you let your tongue meet his into union. A sacrilegious moan left your mouth. 

He was wearing a worn out blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone. You take the buckle of his belt and unclasped it, opening the button of his trousers after. As if opening a present on christmas day you pulled on the silver zipper. A bulge forming on his black boxers. 

You pulled on the soft fabric, your knuckles hitting his bare skin. You brought your lips to the base pulling on the garter to unsheathe his hardness. You presented your mouth as if receiving the sacrament of the eucharist. Mouth open, tongue out, your eyes half lidded directly looking at him. 

The hardness grew to a decent length, cut and the head pink already wet with pleasure. He takes the tip to your tongue, you engulf the head  with your lips. He lets out a groan, his hand goes to your nape, pushing you into his cock. 

The head hits the back of your throat, coating it with your saliva. You cough as he pulls his cock out. He caresses your face. He gestures for you to stand. As you stand he pulls you back to a kiss, his wet hardness hitting your trousers. You pulled off your clerical collar and left it on the seat. 

He takes your waist and rotates you around. You looked at the black wooden wall. He was leaving wet kisses in your ear as he unbuttoned your shirt. His other hand was palming your erection already hard and aching. 

You help him pull down your pants as well as your underwear. Your bare ass, cold against the night air. He caressed your ass and gave it a slap. You moaned, you swore people could have heard it. He kneels on the wooden floor, practically looking up to your body. He takes his tongue against your rear. The wet muscles played around your hole, preparing it for his cock. He places wet fingers inside you to stretch you out, he curls them, pleasure striking your whole body, your knees buckle. 

Your moans filled the small booth, the sounds made louder from the room’s size. He stands up and takes a condom out of his wallet. He puts it on his cock. He takes the wrapper and makes you bite on it. “God knows I want to hear you moan for me, but you need to stay quiet. If this falls from your mouth I’m leaving you like this,” his hand snaking across your ass. 

He places the tip to the rim of your rear. He pressed on the muscle, somewhat rejecting the tightness. He perseveres, the hardness sheathes into your body. You were now united, like a soul to a body. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, your jaw shaking from the pleasure. You could feel the condom wrapper slip. 

He thrusts into you, a hand to your neck. You moan through the wrapper, all muffled and croaking. His cock filled you so well tears started to form from your eyes. Before the seminary you had never been with a man. You always looked sinfully but never acted on it. But now, the devil in the form of a handsome man, devoured you in his flames. 

You recounted Dante’s version of the second circle, men and women devoured in strong tempest, blown around in circles. You could feel it now from his hips hitting into you. Like your body was in his control, swaying forward and back. Your hands gripped onto the wooden ledge on the booth, practically scratching. 

He grunts into your ear each thrust. Your teeth clench on the foil wrapper even harder, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth. His hands went under your shirt, toying with your nipples. Your hand went to your cock stroking it, it’s been so long since you’ve done it. You felt pleasure like never before. 

Fifteen minutes of continuous fucking ensued. Your jaw started to sore from the clenching, the same with your lower back and your knees. Matt’s lips were dripping with saliva and guttural moans, his cock on the brink of climax. 

He pulls out the wrapper from your mouth. He knew you were also near climax. “Let me hear it sweetheart, please let me hear it,” he groans to your ear. He twirls you around to carry you. Your arms and legs wrapped around his body. He pushed you into the wall, his cock continuosly fucking into you. Your lips met in a fevered kiss. 

He fucks a few more times into you until he cums, the two of your moaning into the kiss. Both your shirts were wet from your cum. Matt carries you as he sits down on the stool, your legs still straddling him. The two of you kiss even more, riding your high. 

“It’s you,” he said, as the two of you got dressed. “The person I was afraid to be with.” 

“I’ve committed a grave sin tonight,” you looked down to your feet. “But I’ve always felt like the mission was never truly meant to be,” he sat next to you, his hand caressing your back. “I actually planned on sending my letter of withdrawal tomorrow, so no harm done I guess.”

“Can I still ask you out?” the two of you chuckle, Matt pulling you in for a kiss.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[farfromstrange]

A little glimpse at a note I wrote to myself for today’s The Vault fic…

Ask yourself: is this filthy enough for the Catholic Church to come after you? If the answer is yes, it’s worth it.

Priest!Matt makes my brain go brrrr

[wintersoldierslover]

my fic recs masterlist

---

Bucky Barnes:

all bucky barnes

headcanon  -  blurb  -  one-shot  -  series - two-parter

40s  -  The Winter Soldier  -  Avenger  -  TFATWS

dbf!bucky  -  brother’s bff  -  bff’s brother

neighbour  -  housewife reader

lumberjack  -  firefighter  -  bodyguard

priest bucky  -  college

football player  -  hockey player  -  boxer

professor  -  teacher  -  librarian/bookshop

coffee shop  -  soulmate  -  royal

other AUs  -  taboo

moodboard  -  deactivated:(

---

Stranger Things characters:

all eddie munson  -  all steve harrington

eddie and steve (x reader)

billy hargrove  -  jason carver  -  mike wheeler

dmitri enzo antonov  -  jim hopper

robin buckley  -  nancy wheeler

---

Outer Banks Characters:

all Rafe Cameron

all JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron and JJ Maybank (x reader)

Pope Heyward  -  Topper Thorton

John B.  -  Sarah Cameron

Kiara Carrera

---

Marvel characters:

Wanda Maximoff  -  Kate Bishop

Natasha Romanoff  -  Yelena Belova

Peter Parker  -  Pietro Maximoff

Steve Rogers  -  Stephen Strange

Frank Castle  -  Matt Murdock 

Moon knight  -  Steven Grant

Joaqín Torres - Clint Barton

Loki Laufeyson  -  Druig

Eddie Brock  -  Miles Morales

Miguel O’hara  -  Hobie Brown

---

Harry Potter characters:

Sirius Black  -  Remus Lupin 

James Potter  -  Poly!Marauders

Lily potter  -  Cedric Diggory

George Weasley  -  Fred Weasley

Severus Snape  -  Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

---

Avatar (James Cameron) charachters:

neteyam  -  aonung  -  lo’ak

rotxo  -  kiri  -  spider

jake sully  -  neytiri  -  tsu’tey

tonowari  -  ronal  -  colonel quaritch

---

Top Gun chracters:

Fanboy  -  Hangman  -  Rooster  -  Bob

Iceman

---

Wednesday characters:

Xavier Thorpe  -  Ajax Petropolus

Wednesday Addams  -  Divina

---

Bridgerton characters:

Anthony Bridgerton  -  Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

---

Criminal Minds characters:

Spencer Reid  -  Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

---

The Last of Us characters:

Joel Miller  -  Ellie Williams

Abby Anderson

---

The Devil All The Time characters:

Tommy Matson  -  Lee Bodecker

---

Uncharted characters:

Nate Drake  -  Sam Drake

---

Euphoria characters:

Elliot (Euphoria)  -  Fezco

---

On My Block characters:

Mario Martinez  -  Oscar Diaz

---

Modern Family characters:

Luke Dunphy  -  Alex Dunphy

---

Ted Lasso:

Roy Kent  -  Jamie Tartt

---

NHL players:

Matthew Ktachuk  -  Trevor Zegras

Nolan Patrick  -  Tyler Seguin

---

Actors:

Sebastian Stan  -  Joseph Quinn

Jamie Campbell Bower  -  Danny Ramirez

Drew Starkey  -  Rudy Pankow

Ben Hardy  -  Bella Ramsey

Jenna Ortega

---

Miscellaneous characters:

Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz  -  Marcus Baker

Rodrick Heffley  -  Hunter Sylvester

Lloyd Hansen  -  Ari Levinson

Nick Fowler  -  Tangerine

Rhett Abbott  -  Hayden ‘Harvard Hottie’

Colin (Not Okay)  -  Min Ho (Xo, Kitty)

Ash (No Exit)  -  James Maguire (Derry Girls)

Jake Peralta  -  Nick Miller  -  Brian O’conner

Anakin Skywalker  -  Bruno Madrigal

Tadashi Hamada  -  Kakashi Hatake

---

Miscellaneous real people:

Billie Eilish  -  AEW Hook

---

*Updated whenever there’s a new character <3

[reblog-reblog666]

Reblog Masterlist 1

Matt Murdock / Daredevil

Alleycat series masterlist - Fluff, Smut

Not your average male fantasy - Smut

Kneel at the alter - Smut

Lost - Smut

Bad dreams (hold me closer) - Angst, Smut

No better love - Fluffy Smut

Wicked games - Angst?, Smut

Need - Angst, Smut

Ease the pain - Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Coffee shop woes (1) - Fluff / First date jitters (2) - Fluff / Late night confessions (3) - Angst, Fluff

My darling, my baby. - Fluff, Smut

Lavender haze - Fluff

Lingering - Fluff

Tolerance - Fluff

Ask response - Smut

I just need you - Hurt/Comfort?, Almost Smut?

A slow day - Smut

Bandages - Fluff

Sub!Matt hcs - Smut

Good boys deserve to be taken care of (1) - Smut / (2) - Smut

Old fashioned - Smut

Feisty - Smut

Wordle - Fluff (OFC, Not Reader)

Matt as a bad priest hcs - Smut

Kneel. - Kinda Hurt/Comfort?, Fluff?

Michelangelo's Matthew - Fluff

Still here - Fluff

Daddy issues - Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Attention - Fluff

My own worst enemy - Angst, Hurt/Comfort

In the rearview - Angst, Hurt/Comfort

All I feel is you - Fluff

Castle in the sky - Fluff

Never an ear strain away - Fluff

Talk too much - Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Chaotic College!Matt hcs - Fluff

Nepenth - Hurt Comfort, Fluff

Forgiveness - Smut

Pain and pleasure - Smut

Sub Matt blurb - Smut

When the needle speaks (1) - Angst, Hurt Comfort / (2)

Stroke - Smut themes?

No interruption - Smut

Ours - Smut Blurb

Relax - Smut Blurb

I’ll be in good company - Hurt Comfort, Fluff

You’re somebody else - Angst

You are the best thing that’s ever been mine - Fluff that makes you cry

Matt Murdock x Autistic! Reader x Frank Castle hcs - Fluff, Hurt Comfort

Bruises - Hurt Comfort

Matt Murdock x Virgin!Reader hcs - Smut

Guardian Angel - Teen!Reader, Pregnant!Reader, Dad!Matt, Hurt Comfort

A real first kiss - Little bit of angst, Little bit of comfort, Fluff

Corruption of innocence (1) (2) - Smut

Anchor - Hurt Comfort, Autistic Reader

And then I met you (1) - Slight Angst, Fluff, Dad!Matt, Mom!Reader

Stained glass love series masterlist

Rooftops and vigilantes - Fluff? Idk what else to say (1) (2) (3)

You learn something new everyday… I guess - Fluff, angst?, hurt comfort?

Praise kink - Smut / Good girls finish first - Smut

Ours - Fluff, Comfort

Chase - Smut (1) (2)

Frank Castle / Punisher

Bad dreams (hold me closer) - Angst, Smut

Fashion show - Fluff

Jealousy - Smut

Forgiveness - Smut

Out of mind - Fluff

Ours - Smut Blurb

Matt Murdock x Autistic! Reader x Frank Castle hcs - Fluff, Hurt Comfort

Ours - Fluff, Comfort

Billy Russo

Penny for your thoughts - Smut

Jessie Pinkman

Celebrating Jessie’s birthday hcs - Fluff

Saul Goodman

His secretary but in a porno way - Smut

Peter Parker / Spiderman

Stim the stress away - Fluff, Neurodivergent Reader

Touch - Smut

Doughnuts - Fluff

Paparazzi - Dark! Peter, Smut, little fluff?

these violet delights - a dark! mob!peter tale [tasm peter vs kilgrave] - Angst, Dark Fic, Not x Reader, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Darth Vader / Anakin Skywalker

The throne - Smut, Darth Vader

Derek Morgan

Size kink - Smut

BAU General

Autistic BAU reader hcs - Fluff, Hurt Comfort

Rick Grimes

Our moments - Fluff

Bruce Wayne / Batman

Missing you - Smut

Words greatest detective - Smut

Other

Yandere Butler x Autistic Reader hcs - Dark, Hurt Comfort

[brokebonewritings]

Bless Me, Father

Priest! Matt Murdock x afab! reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, violence, smut, mention of religion, hurt/comfort

Summary: Seeking a priest for guidance. You just weren't expecting this priest to be an ex, and a vigilante.

Word Count: 4.2K

Navigation | Masterlist

A/N: This was written for a really dear friend of mine. I love them a lot, and I hope they love this story just as much! Pair this fic with A Question of Lust by Depeche Mode and Church by Chase Atlantic.

You walk into the church slowly as you think about what you would say. The cold bitter air pricks your nose, immediately warming as you step into the sanctuary. It’s been a long time since you have been here, though you feel comforted by the environment. Setting your bag and scarf on a pew, you walk towards the confessional booth and step inside quietly. You inhale and exhale before speaking to the priest on the other side.

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned.” You start. Hearing him shift in the booth next to you, you continue on. “It has been 3 months, and 15 days since my last confession.”

You continue to tell him about things you have done in the past few months. About things you feel are wrong, and how it makes you feel. How you felt shunned by your family for expressing your personal thoughts and interests. You begin to tear up as you finish speaking.

He sits for a moment before speaking. The air felt tight around you as you anticipated his voice.

“My child, there is no reason to weep.” His voice was soothing, much like a cup of hot chocolate. He continues. “What you are feeling about yourself is not wrong. You are on a journey of self discovery. Embrace it, and those who shun you will see the butterfly they mistook for a caterpillar. There is no penance for you today.”

You glance over at him, and catch a glimpse at the young priest. He looked stiff, as if he were a mannequin. You nod at his words and wipe the tears from your eyes. Stating the absolution, you thank him and step out of the booth. 

Lingering for a moment, you took in sight of the beautiful cathedral. Nothing felt more peaceful than the quietness of the church. A few nuns were staggered in the pews or kneeling at the altar. The smell of sweet incense flowed through the air.

Turning to look over your shoulder, you see the priest step out of the booth and turn his head in your direction. He smiles and makes his way towards you to walk you out.

“I haven’t seen you here in a long time, y/n” He starts, you can tell he was shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, it has been a while huh?” You avert your gaze to the wood flooring. “Not since our breakup” 

He winces at that comment. You didn’t have mal intent behind it. Just stating the fact. It had been a nasty one at that. He wanted to become a priest, and you wanted to have a family. Simple as that.

“Listen if you ever need to talk…” He sighs. “You know where you can find me.”

“Sure, sure. For godly insight I suppose?” You mutter. “Since when did Father Lantom step down?”

“About a month ago. I was appointed here personally.” Seeing the grip he held on his cane, you decided to take your leave. Not wanting to further the conversation before it got too awkward.

“I, uhm, have to head to work. Those court documents are not gonna write themselves, I guess.”

“Right. Well. Hopefully I will see you back again soon..” He said, giving a curt nod before you turn to leave. “And, God be with you, y/n”

“God be with you too, Father Murdock.”

“He WHAT?!”  Karen whispered in your shared office. She really was your closest friend so obviously you had to tell her.

“Right! So he was my ex from college which was so long ago, but god we were so in love.” You crossed your arms in defeat. “How could he look even better now?!”

“Oh no! You cannot go running back to that ‘used to be good’ feeling.” She stood and crossed to you. “Did you forget that, HE’S A FUCKING PRIEST.”

“I KNOW!” You huff. You were perfectly content without the knowledge of Matt actually achieving his dream. Sure it was extremely selfish of you to think, but he did break your heart. No wonder you hadn’t heard anyone talk about him, he basically fell off the face of the earth. Lost in thought, you hardly noticed when your boss approached your office.

“What’s up guys? What’s the hot gossip?”

You look up to see your boss, Foggy, leaning against the doorframe. Hardly a boss though, he liked to consider himself a friend to everyone in the office. 

“y/n wants to fuck a priest!” Karen casually said. You gasped loudly at her sudden statement, and stood up from your chair.

“I never said that!”

“Woah, didn’t see that one coming.” Foggy chuckled at the response. “Why a priest though?”

You roll your eyes as you lean against your desk. “It was a really long time ago okay? And he definitely wasn’t a priest then.”

Foggy cocks an eyebrow and looks at Karen. Who in return gives him a look.

“So what was he then?” Karen asks, looking back at you. You considered the question for a moment before sitting back down.

“Just a good catholic boy, I guess.” 

“You guess?” Foggy says suddenly.

“I mean, sure we had some fun.” You start quietly. “But we always found our way back to church on Sundays…”

“I thought you weren’t religious?” Karen asked curiously. You considered the question before answering.

“I’m not anymore. Not after how everyone made me feel after our breakup.” You turn back towards your desk to end the conversation. Foggy and Karen both shrugged at each other before going back to their own tasks.

Letting the tears fall silently from your eyes, you didn’t like when people watched you cry. Not that you liked to be emotional, but you didn’t want anyone to see you as weak.

The work day was long and strenuous. You worked quietly at your desk, only looking up to answer questions or find more paperwork.

Clients called and you helped to the best of your ability to answer questions, sending them to Foggy if you couldn’t. Until it was way past your time to head. You hadn’t realized it was dark outside. Turning around, you noticed Karen was also still working.

You gather your belongings and stand to leave. Giving Karen a quick hug, before heading out.

You walked quickly down the street after getting off the bus. Not that you were trying to act in fear, but you definitely knew that someone was following you down the street.

Hell's Kitchen was never the safest at night anyways. Working late was the worst, especially in cases that involved some sort of underground organization.

Turning down another block, you turn your head to see if the man is still following you. Of course he fucking was. What is the deal with men these days? Maybe you were overthinking it, and he just lived on the same street as you. Clearly you were too lost in your anxiety to not notice the second man coming from in front of you.

“Hey, pretty thing. Where are you rushing off too?” He says before grabbing your wrist. You gasp suddenly, trying to rip your hand from his grip.

“Please let go, I’m just trying to go home!” 

“Oh honey… Our boss would like to have a word with you.”

Without missing a beat, the man wraps his arm around your waist, and begins to pick you up. The kicking and punches you were throwing didn’t seem to phase him.  His other hand covered your mouth to muffle your screams.

That’s when you noticed a dark figure standing on top of the building nearest you. You prayed that it would help you. 

And just like that, your prayer was answered. Maybe. You watched as the figure jumped down into the alley way. Forgetting that for a moment, you continue to kick and flail your arms to deter the man. 

Of course there was a parking structure for these guys' convenience. You never understood how no one caught on to these things. While putting you into the car, you feel his body slamming against the door with force. Laying on the floor you scream as you see a man clad in a full white suit tower above you.

“Wait! Wait!” He puts his hands up in surrender “I’m a good guy I promise!”

Finally getting a full look at him, you realized you had never seen this hero before. Sure you’ve run into Spiderman multiple times, and even that Dr. Strange guy.

He stretches out his hand to help you up and you hesitantly take it. You narrow your eyes at him once you’re out of the car. The accent was not from around here. British. It was definitely British. “So who are you supposed to be?” You ask.

“Oh erm. Just call me Mr. Knight.” He starts and then continues with a bow. “It’s a little late to be walking around here, innit?”

You shrug and stand there awkwardly. Reaching for your satchel you finally realize it was missing. Turning back to the car you bend and reach around for it. Once you find it, you climb back out and turn to see that this “Mr. Knight” guy was gone and replaced with a scarier version of a mummy.

He sees the surprise on your face and the fear flash in your eyes. “Same guy. Don’t call me Mr. Knight though.”

The once crisp white suit had turned into a wrapped garment with a large crescent moon in the middle of his chest. It really did look like a superhero outfit.

“Stay right here. I need to get rid of these guys.”

You nodded and watched as both goons got back to their feet in a battle stance. The man in white pulled two crescent shaped blades from his chest, and waited for one of them to throw a punch. As they began their battle, you ran further back to avoid any debris flying around.

Turning your back against the violence, you didn’t want to see what was going to happen. Your eyes shut tight as you hear the gargled screams of your kidnappers. Once you determined it was all over you glance back up and see another figure standing in the dark parking structure.

Gasping loudly you trip over your own feet before falling backwards. You scramble back up and run over to the man who just saved you. He looked confused as to what you were frightened about. That was until he saw the figure. 

“If you know what’s good for you then you need to leave.” He said.

The figure in front of him growled. “I’m only here for her.”

Wait. You had seen this silhouette before. Sometimes as you walk down the street you would catch a glimpse of him. ‘The Devil of Hell's Kitchen’ they called him.

“It’s him.” You let out slowly. The man in white looked towards you, before you noticed the grip on his crescent weapons.

“Listen, guy, the lady is not interested in getting kidnapped tonight.” He said harshly. “You look like you don’t wanna die tonight either.”

“What makes you so sure you’re gonna kill me?” The figure taunted before taking a step forward. You look at this stranger with begging eyes. Hoping that you wouldn’t have to be in the middle of a hero battle. He sighed as he looked at you and then back at the devil.

“You asked for it pal.” He muttered before running towards the dark figure. Each fluid motion of his fists were dodged by the other man. You could tell that he was growing tired of the devil missing his punches.

He snarled loudly before yelling, “I’m tapping out!”

Suddenly the wraps disappeared and the white suit returned. The crescent shaped knives were replaced with a long bow staff. Breaking it in half, he readied himself for the devil’s next attack.

He was quickly met with a kick to his face and the sharp inhale really proved how hard the kick was. The next rounded kick was stopped by the chain attached to Mr. Knight’s staff. The devil flipped back as he untangled the chain from his ankle.

It was like lightning the way that Mr. Knight moved. He threw his hook up towards a pipe and went into a sprint. Swinging himself around so that he could end up on the other side of the other man. Failing as the devil grabbed hold of his forearm and slammed him on the ground.

The sound alone made your ears ring. You stayed behind the car door watching them fight. It was the only battle you have seen up close, and boy did it not fail to both excite you and make you feel fear.

Continuing with his motion, the devil begins to punch the hero into the cement. Over and over. Until finally there was a sudden stop of movement.

Mr. Knight held the devil’s fist, straining to keep it from making contact with his face once again. You noticed that the man in red looked up suddenly at you. His intense gaze made shivers go down your spine.

“Oi, wait a minute I know you!” Mr. Knight said suddenly. “Daredevil! It’s Us!”

‘Daredevil’ snapped his head back down to look at Mr. Knight and pulled his fist away.

“Steven?” His rough voice sent more shivers down your spine. The tone sounded vaguely familiar, like you had heard it somewhere before.

“Yeah mate!” 

The man in red stood up fully and held his hand out to help Steven up. You don’t understand fully how he didn’t recognize him, if you saw a suit that crisp you would have remembered immediately.

You stand surprised as the suit morphed back to the wrapped garment. It changed right in front of you, just like magic.

“Where’s your partner, Spector.” Daredevil asked. “You never go anywhere without them.”

He winced after the question. Something personal you supposed. “It’s the reason why I’m in America.” He leaves it at that.

Both men turn to look at you. You cower a bit not really knowing what they are about to do. The devil takes a step towards you, and you promptly take a step back. He holds up both his hands.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He states. “I thought you were in danger.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yeah well, Sailor Moon beat you to it.”

“Hey!” The other hero said with offense in his voice.

You both turn to look at him. He hesitates a moment, most likely not going to say another word. How could you be meeting two heroes in one night? Well, not heroes, more like vigilantes it seemed like.

Clearing your throat, you looked around at the scene and wondered which lucky person would find that in the morning.

“This has been real fun, but I’d really like to go home and sleep.” You finally say. Daredevil and Mr. Knight both nod towards you as you start walking away.

“Let me walk you home.” A gruff voice says, turning to see Daredevil take a step towards you. It wasn’t a question, it was clearly a statement. “To make sure you get home safe.”

You shrug and walk towards the entrance of the parking structure. A voice calls from behind you both that makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey Murdock, if you see my partner, give me a call…” Moonknight said with a hint of sadness in voice. You glance up at the vigilante beside you. Murdock. Matthew Murdock. The only Murdock you knew.

He reaches a hand up to touch your shoulder. Not believing what you had just heard, you flinch away.  “Matt?” You managed to choke out.

“I’m sorry.” He says gently. “Let’s just get you home.”

“No.” Tears pricking your eyes. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine.” He says before starting to walk again. You follow close behind him. Street after street you managed to keep up with him. Seeing the church come into view you realize that he was taking you to his own sanctuary.

Matt opens the side gate to the cemetery and steps aside so you could enter first. You step inside and head to the bench you both sat at when you were younger. He lingers a bit by the gate before entering and following you deep into the graveyard.

Once you both are inside, and he makes sure the coast is clear, he takes off his mask. Setting it down next to you, you stare at it. You cannot actually believe that you were saved by Daredevil. Well sort of.

And to make it all worse, Daredevil was your ex. Your knight in shining armor was someone who completely broke your heart. How poetic. You look up at him as he paces.

“You do realize how sacrilegious this is, right?” Your comment definitely breaks the ice. The smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth is only slightly comforting.

“This started way before the priest thing.” He stops pacing and sits next to you. “While we were together actually.”

“You’re joking.” Your mouth gapes open. He stays silent. “Oh god. You’re serious.”

He grabs the mask before speaking up. “ It’s partially the reason why we broke up.”

“What?” You his through your teeth. Was this guy serious right now? “What do you mean it's partially the reason why we broke up? You said you wanted to pursue a life of Christ, Matt.” 

“I did! Didn’t I?!” He raised his voice. “I did what had to be done to protect you, y/n!”

You stood from the bench and put your hands over your ears. Not wanting to hear another word from his mouth.

“Okay what are you doing?” He asked.

“I don’t want to listen to you anymore!” You shout. “I mean do you even know how ridiculous that sounds!”

“I did it for you, y/n! I did all of this for you!”

Then there was silence. Not even the wind howled through the trees in that moment. Letting everything sink in, you felt your heart pounding against your chest. You bring your arms down in a folded position and stare at the man in front of you.

“I really was in love with you, Matt.”

“I’m still in love with you.” He stood as he confessed. “I think about you. Morning, Noon and Night.”

Air that was trapped in your lungs was released all at once. Like you have not been breathing for a whole year. You felt insane to think that this wasn’t some convoluted nightmare.

He took a step towards you, and you let him. Feeling like this had all happened for some divine reason, you let him take your hand. His glove was rough against your skin. You never broke your eye contact off of his face. Studying how his jaw tensed and untensed, or how his eyes always followed the sound of your voice.

“Please Matty.” You sniffle. “You broke my heart once. I can’t take it a second time.”

“I promise you, there won’t be a second time.” He says before leaning down and kissing you gently. It takes a moment for your brain to process what was happening. Once you realize it was in fact a real kiss, you kiss him back. Arms snaking their way around his neck and his around your waist.

The kiss becomes more hunger filled. You can tell you both were touch starved by the way your hands began to roam. His body was pressed into yours, and you could feel yourself getting more turned on every second.

“Sweetheart.” He says. “You smell so fucking good.”

You moan lightly against his lips. Taking his bottom lip between your teeth, you tug on it lightly earning yourself a low groan. The way it vibrated between both your chests went straight to your core.

“Matty. I need you.” You pant as you pull from him slightly. He cups your face with his hand and nods.

“I need you too, sweetheart.”

Rushing through the front door of the church, you kiss the man in front of you with an intense passion. You can’t remember the last time you were touched by a man. Let alone kissed by one. 

The way he grabs your waist with his gloved hands was addicting. You feel every desire and you’re sure that he could smell your arousal. You begin pushing him towards a pew before he turns you around and stops the motion altogether.

“Wait.” Hearing his voice startled you. “We should move to somewhere more private.”

“Where? The only other place is your office, and I’m not about to be bent over a desk, Matt.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks in thought. Whatever was going through his head made your heart start to race. Taking your arm, he leads you towards the confessional booth pulling off his suit, and your own clothes in the process.

Once he is satisfied with how naked the both of you are, he climbs inside. You follow behind him and once he makes himself comfortable in the seat, you straddle his lap.

Leaving a trail of marks down his neck, you feel the heat of his hard cock against your stomach. Moaning from the sensation you readjust yourself and begin to slide him into you. You hear the way his breath catches as your tight cunt passes over his cock.

It’s silent in the church, the only sounds being made were the moans coming from you and the priest you had underneath you. You can’t help but wonder if this was the wrong thing to be doing. Despite those thoughts, you continue to lewdly whimper and sink yourself onto him.

“Oh Father Murdock, how fucking holy art thou” You smirk as you hungrily kiss him.

This makes him groan against you as he thrusts himself deeper inside you. Gasping loudly, you feel his cock in the pit of your stomach. How he managed to thrust that far into you was an act of God. You look down to watch his hips thrust up into you, and you push down onto his cock. It was absolutely breathtaking knowing that he was doing this to you.

“Y/N, you are going to be the absolute death of me.” He gapes, “You feel like absolute heaven.”

“I’m not going to last much longer, Matty” You clench around his length as you begin to bounce more sloppily.

You hear a slight growl creep up from the back of his throat before he grabs your thighs and flips you both over. This new angle had you at a curve, which made each thrust more earth shattering.

“You don’t get to come until I allow it.” His voice echoed through the small booth. Chills were sent up your spine. Looking up at this holy man through your lust filled eyes, you try to focus on every feature of his face. The way his jaw was tensed, and how his eyebrows furrowed.

The intensity of each thrust sent you into an overstimulated galaxy. Seeing stars was typically not what you experience in times like these. Then again, you both had not had sex in a long while.

His panting mixed together with the groans falling from his lips was drawing you to your edge. The little voice in your head kept repeating itself. ‘You don’t get to come until I allow it.’. Fuck did that have an affect on you.

Your moans began to sound more high pitched as the overstimulation hit you. He lowers his head to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it harshly. The gasp you let out pleased him even more.

He continued to suck before moving his mouth to your neck, leaving small bruises here and there. You could feel his thrusts start to slow down as if he were getting tired. 

“Pl- please, I'm begging you.” You whimper pathetically. 

He smirks before whispering in your ear. “On the count of three. Okay, sweetheart?” 

You nod as you groan loudly.

“One.”

His thrusts begin to pick up, as he fucks you harder than before.

“Two.” 

Your cunt starts to clench around his cock as you try to hold on for that third number.

“Three.”

You both moan and pant as you come together. The pulse of his cock as it releases his hot seed into you feels good against your quivering pussy. Never before have you experienced an orgasm this good.

Breathing finally steadying out, you stare up at him. The sweat running down his forehead was very prominent. You noticed a smile beginning to make his way onto his face. You smile as well.

“What?” You ask quietly.

“I think this is the most sacrilegious thing I have ever done.” He says back in a whisper. 

“Oh and not the vigilante thing?”

He shakes his head before pressing his forehead to yours. “How bout you tell me about what has your heart racing at the moment?” He says instead.

“I just didn’t think I would ever be doing this.”

“How about you share your confession then?” He says while giving you another small thrust making you moan.

“Oh…” You ponder. “Then, bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

[thenotsoholyspirit]

Holding pt 3

(Here for part 1-2)

Matt murdock x reader (angst)

Summary: A little talk with the right man ends up revealing more than the necessary information.

(I pushed myself to give it more action and context, so forgive me if the timeline is not quite accurate for season 3. There's a lot of mention of catholic related topics too if you're not comfortable with that . Either way hope you enjoy it and thanks for all the support ❤️✨️)

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•

It didn't take much time for the announcement of the release of the Kinpin to become all journals headlines.

As I go down my building heading for work, the first thing I notice are the newspapers laying downstairs the entry.

"FEDERAL COURT HEARS FISK APPEAL"

I stare dumbfounded.

Even if I have promised myself to keep my distance from Matt, I immediately feel the urge to go and find him as I'm more than aware of all the trouble this criminal has brought upon the devil of Hells kitchen and the place itself.

I look at my phone. It's almost six in the morning. I still have time before heading down the veterinary.

I'm unsure where to go first as he would surely no longer be at the Law Firm. Even my instinct to give Foggy a call is quickly refrained as I remember what he told me about our last talk.

What have you gotten yourself into this time, Matty.

Suddenly, I hear the usual resounding ring from the church's bells down the drive. From both corners of the sidewalk, I see small groups of people enter the place, the usual morning crowd.

How didn't I think about it before

Before I can lose more time, I run down the street, calling the closest taxi.

....

"As we say this, we bless ourselves three times by making a small cross on our-"

Clinton Church wouldn't exactly be the first place most people would go to if they were in the search of a devil dressed like a vigilante, yet as soon as I timidly open its door, the familiar incense smell and gothic columns reassure me that I've come to the right place. 

As I come in, I quickly go sit on one of the empty seats from the back. Father Lantom has already started the mass. 

I can not let myself but let a small smile leave my lips. It's been such a long time since I've last been here. 

While vaguely hearing the Father talk, memories of long ago lived moments fill through my mind. Small snippets of my old life.

“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”  

I raise my head up when I hear the priest pronounce his final lines. This was it. 

Thankfully, not many people want to talk to him this morning, as most leave or simply stay in the right corner where the prayer candles softly illuminate the walls. I get lost for a moment, staring at the wavy shadows.

“Aren't they pretty... Some may take them as nothing else than silly good omens, but I'd rather see them as a representation of hope. People always need hope...."

I turn around, noticing Father Fantom looking at me curiously. I'm quite surprised he has noticed me. He invites me to sit down.

"I wasn't expecting to see you this morning miss (y/n), ” he chuckles slightly, "A bit late to mass although"

"I... I don't want to take too much of your time sir, but I need to know if you've well-," I try to smile, feeling quite vulnerable all out of the sudden "Seen or heard anything about Matt"

His face suddenly turns more serious, yet he barely looks surprised.

Is it this obvious

"That may depend on your own answer, miss.. I haven't seen you in quite a long time"

I nod, understanding his peak in curiosity.

"I know...." I look down the floor. "It's not like him and me are exactly on talking terms neither"

"(Y/n)... Matthew came here late last night searching for some answers , " he stares at the statue of Jesus placed beside the altar. "These are difficult times for him.. He needs some guidance..."

Father Lantom sighs softly as he shakes his head

"And some hope too....and I'm not just necessarily talking about his extracurricular activities...."

"I understand that." I nod sternly, knowing that something was different from his last visit. "But I'm not sure I'm in the best position to be of any help, neither ."

Im not sure why Im being so open with him, but I guess the serious yet caring tone of Father Lantom invites me to be more honest. I continue talking

"I'm not sure if I'm strong enough"

He gently gives me a tap on the shoulder.

"I'm not requesting you to forgive him (y/n)... that's an answer only your heart can give..." He tries to keep a reassuring tone, "I just worry of what he may push himself to do"

Suddenly, the silence of the church feels heavier. I rethink of the news. It just clicks in my head

"Don't tell me.... Don't tell me he wants to take care of Fisk on his own "

"He didn't mention-.."

But I interrumpt him, understanding now Matt's logic. His anger, his guilt.

I get it just.. just why

"No.. He can't .. he can not do that.... He.."

"This city is already dangerous as it is (y/n)." Father Lantom looks at me with worry. He seems to have understood my own intentions, too. "It's not the time to play even more precarious games right now"

But I can't. I need to stop him before it's too late.

I look at my phone again. It's already eight.

Guess I better call off sick

"I gotta go"

I immediately jump on my feet. I give a last look to Father Lantom and the candles.

If everything ends up all right, I may give a chance to one of those.

"(y/n)!"

I hear his call, but I decide to ignore him as I step outside. I cannot wait.

There was no time to lose.