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lights-on-the-ridge · 2 days

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𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 || 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤

pairing: college best friend matt x fem reader

summary: things are beginning to change between you and your best friend Matt.

warnings: EXPLICIT 18+, unprotected p in v, virgin reader, soft soft smut, little bit of a marking kink/possessive matt? there’s like 2k of exposition/foreplay 🤭🤭 mostly unedited, sorry for any mistakes

A/N: this is a repost due to technical difficulties, the fic was not showing up in the tags 😧 anyways this is a BIRTHDAY GIFT FOR DEVON EVERYONE DAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEV !!!!! love u to death devvie, thank you so so much for the idea for this fic, im so glad i’m finally posting it !!

wordcount: 5.5k

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Something was changing between you and Matt. You could feel it in the air. His touches were softer, and his arms held you a little tighter. The words that came from his lips fell softer on your ears like he was dipping them in honey.

Now, in the dim light of his dorm, he was so close to you. Strong arms wrapped securely around you, one settled on your shoulders, the other draped across your tummy. The scents of teakwood, cinnamon, and cardamom fill your nose as you breathe, settling closer to him. Your hand rests on his stomach, you shudder at the feeling of his warm skin under your fingertips where his shirt has ridden up. This should feel risky, pushing the border between friendship and something more, yet it doesn't. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You trace little patterns on his skin, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to bask in this comfort. A little sigh falls from his lips. He is as content as you are. Your fingers form hearts, stars, the letters of his name, anything and everything you can think of until you let your hand rest. You don’t feel the need to fidget, to pull away. You only snuggle closer and tune back into the movie playing on his TV.

As the credits begin to roll you resume the movement of your fingertips, waiting for him to suggest the next movie. Instead, he hands the remote over to you, settling his lips against your hair. “Put some music on.”

Your heart begins to race. You wonder if he can hear it. You don’t know it but he can, that’s what prompts the soft smile on his lips. You place the remote down on the bedside table and snuggle closer, opening yourself to whatever may be happening. It’s been a long time coming you think, you’ve had this stupid, growing crush on matt for the past few months. The two of you had always been close but something changed this year. He had a single dorm, you found yourself knocking on his door when you needed an escape from life, from your work, from your roommate- when you needed an escape from the world. He always greeted you with open arms and that trademark grin of his. You started spending nights. You started leaving your things. And before you knew it you were here.

Your name falls from his lips, soft, floating to your ears as light as a feather. “Matty,” you respond. You feel his fingers brush the bottom of your chin, they tilt your head up until the two of you are barely an inch from each other. He is so close. You take in the color of his eyes, the way his lashes brush his cheek. He moves in impossibly closer, closer, closer until his lips are on yours. The taste of the chocolate lingers on his lips. You melt into him, bewildered and excited and more comfortable than you’ve ever been. His hand squeezes your hip and for once you don’t shy away, you don’t feel self-conscious, instead, you feel warm inside.

His arms wrap fully around you, lifting you into his lap with casual ease. You straddle his hips, resting your forehead against his. “This alright?” he asks. You just kiss him in reply. His hand brushes under the hem of your hoodie and you gasp, his tongue slipping past your lips. A soft, subconscious whine escapes you. You feel Matt smile against your lips. Heat pools in your lower belly, and you hold yourself back so you wouldn’t start rutting against him. You don’t want to take things too far.

His hands explore your body as his tongue maps the corners of your mouth. Fingertips brush your hips, dipping town to your tummy then moving up to caress your neck. He settles on cupping your cheek firmly for a moment, his other hand remaining on your hip. Gentle lips begin to stray from your own, first kissing the corner of your lips, then past your chin and onto your neck. The hand on your cheek moves back to your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt and exploring your skin.

Something about this makes you feel unbelievably comfortable. Matt isn’t pressuring you in any way, but rather gently guiding the way. You’re breaching new territory. You’ve never been with someone before. If Matt was your first, fuck, you wouldn’t be opposed. The furthest thing from it. You’ve wanted him for a while now.

His lips reconnect with your own and you begin to grow bolder, tangling your fingers in his soft hair. You feel him smile against your lips, silently encouraging your actions. You kiss him for a moment longer, content to soak in all the sensations you’re experiencing. Then you take your turn to kiss his neck, moving in a slow and calculated manner. You want to go as slow as possible, and savor every second of contact. Matt’s hands roam your back until they brush the hem of your bra and he traces the intricate lace pattern.

He says your name again, a breathless whisper, and you come up to face him. He’s breathless, a star-struck grin spreading across his lips. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs. Your heart speeds at the name and, unbeknownst to you, Matt files that away for later. You lean in to kiss him again, slipping your tongue past his lips to taste him. The two of you move like tides, pushing and pulling in tandem. Your kiss is a wave crashing against the shore, and Matt is the tide that pulls you back. Gently, he pulls away, panting against your lips. “I know you wanna rut against me. Don’t be shy. I’ve gotcha.”

You shift your hips, seeking the friction you so desperately need. Your body courses with warmth, desire thrumming just underneath your skin. Even through the material of your sweats, his jeans are rough, grating against your core. It’s good. You chase the feeling, moving your hips slowly against his as he kisses you. The bulge in his pants rubs deliciously against you. Everything is so warm, so gentle, and easy. You relish the way Matt kisses you, sweet and slow like time doesn’t exist. Like you are the only thing in the world that matters to him. And truthfully, at this moment, you are. He won’t say it now, but eventually, you’ll know. You are his world.

You grow more and more comfortable as the seconds pass, your body taking bolder paths as it moves against him. Your hands push under his shirt, fingers stretching up to his chest before gently scratching back down. His skin is smooth, soft, and flushed. You take a moment to breathe, your hips still pushing against Matt’s. Your lips brush his cheek gently before you bury your face in his neck, relishing the warm feeling of his skin on yours. He shifts his head to lay a sweet kiss on your hairline, whispering in your ear, “you doin’ alright?” His voice is low and gentle. It resonates through your head, filling the last worried corner of your mind with nothing but ease and comfort. You nod, resting your hand on his chest under his shirt. Strong hands squeeze your hips, grounding you. A soft whine escapes your lips as he guides the motion of your bodies together. “C’mere, sit up.”

You do as you’re told, finding you like this angle of friction as you straighten your back. You move your hips, reaching back on Matt’s thighs to steady yourself. You feel the thick muscle tense under your hands, and he must be enjoying it too because he swears under his breath as he tugs at the hem of his shirt. Once he’s gotten it off he sits up a little straighter, meeting you where you are and wrapping his arms around you. The connection feels like electricity, zinging just underneath your skin. He kisses your lips once, his lips then traveling to your neck. He sucks on a spot just below your ear, just enough that it’ll leave a bruise in the morning. The thought of going throughout your day wearing a mark of his need enthralls you. It’s almost as if you’ve been claimed. You trail your nails up and down his spine, trying to slow your brain from jumping to conclusions as he kisses your neck, his strong arms holding you close and moving your body against his own. Warm lips brush the shell of your ear in tandem with nimble fingers tracing the skin just under the hem of your hoodie. “Can I take this off you?”

“Please,” you breathe. He removes the clothing with the utmost care, cupping your cheek and pressing your chests together as he kisses you. Big hands roam your sides, pressing into the soft divots of your back. Worshipful. Matt is worshipping your body with his hands, tracing every stretch mark, every curve, all of it.

“Beautiful girl,” he murmurs, pulling away so his hands can trace the front of your body.

“Matthew,” you scold. You’re being playful, but deep down your words are rooted in insecurity. “How could you know if I’m beautiful or not?”

Matt stills, a soft look coming across his face. “Well, the perception of beauty is a little… different for me. Do you really want me to tell you?”

You feel your cheeks flush as you reply quietly, “yes please.”

“Alright, pretty girl, lay down for me.”

You maneuver off him, smiling at the slightly awkward shuffle around. You prop a few pillows behind your back, settling so that you’re comfortable. Matt sits his weight on your thighs and you take a moment to look up at him. You’re sure if he could see the look on your face he’d tease you for it, star-struck adoration melting into your features.

“You know,” he begins, fingertips skating over your hips. The slow drag feels like fire on your skin. “I wasn’t always blind. I lost my sight when I was a kid, but before that, I loved to sit out on the steps and watch the sky change colors as the sun set.”

He traces lines across your stomach, like the clouds and the layers of a sunset. “When I lost my sight it got a little harder. But after a while, I started to find the beauty in the world again.”

“Where did you find it?” you ask. You cover one of Matt’s hands with your own, wanting to feel more connected to him. He raises it, intertwining your fingers. The warmth of his palm soothes you. The two of you are tangled, not just physically, but in all aspects of the word. Your lines were destined to converge like this, something in you knew it from the start.

He’s quiet for a moment. His eyes unknowingly searching, as if he’s delving into the depths of his memory. You wonder what it’s like inside that beautiful mind of his.

“I found it first in the hymns they would sing at mass. Something about the way it would resonate off the ceilings, it was like I could see the architecture again.” He traces the lace edge of your bra, fingers barely brushing your soft skin. You suck in a breath, in awe of him. Matt has been through a lot, you know this. The fact that he remains so sweet and genuine will never cease to amaze you.

Matt turns your hand and presses a kiss against the back before placing it gently at your side. He traces his finger up your shoulder and towards your chin, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger. “Found it in nature, like the smell that comes after a rainstorm. Or the crisp air as summer turns to fall.” He leans in until his lips are nearly brushing yours. “It’s everywhere. You just gotta know where to find it.” He kisses you firmly, you feel dizzy from it. He’s casing you in, encapsulating you within his presence. You never want to leave.

As his lips move to your neck you become acutely aware of the arousal you’ve been feeling. “There is beauty in being kind,” Matt whispers against your neck, “you are one of the kindest people I have ever met.”

Warm lips trail to your chest, sucking gentle marks into the soft skin. He reaches behind you, fingers grazing the clasp of your bra, waiting for permission. You lean down to kiss him, nodding your go-ahead. He removes it oh so gently, warm hands coming to cup the delicate flesh. “There is beauty in being genuine. You always speak your mind and I admire you for it.” His kisses travel to your stomach, “there is beauty in your voice, it’s always been such a comfort to me.”

His kisses gain more heat, teeth nipping at your skin as he travels lower. “And the noises you’ve been making tonight,” he murmurs, nipping particularly hard at your hip. You whimper before he soothes the skin with his tongue, leaving a gentle kiss over the blossoming mark. “Pretty girl, those noises are the most beautiful of all.”

“Matthew,” you breathe. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he kisses along the waistband of your sweats, each brush of his lips sends heat directly to your core. You want this more than you have wanted anything in your life. You would be fine if Matt had his way with you, not pausing to ask your permission. You would give yourself to him, wholly, without a second thought. But here he is, treating you with as much gentle adoration as possible.

“Please, beautiful girl, can I have you?”

“Yes. Please-” you bite your lip in anticipation as he begins to pull your sweatpants down your legs. You feel so vulnerable, so open, and yet you feel so safe. He traces the lace of your panties with one finger, and you nearly giggle thinking about how you convinced yourself to wear a nice set. Just in case, you had told yourself. You never believed it would happen. Warm lips fall sweet on your skin, littering the area just above your waistband with kisses. You close your eyes and revel in it all.

Matt hooks a finger in the waistband, pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He’s teasing you, you know it. You tighten your grip on his hair, urging him on. He pulls them off and tosses them to the side, standing to remove his jeans. He kisses up your calf to your thigh as he returns, smiling against your skin. His lips find your own and you kiss him hard, grabbing his arms to hold him close. You feel the bulge in his boxers as he grinds against you. Your mind is so quiet, there is nothing but Matt. The taste of chocolate on his lips, the smell of his cologne, and the feel of his body against yours. It’s all-encompassing. His arms cage you in physically, you feel so secure knowing he’s surrounding you.

You pull away to breathe, gasping against his lips and staying close. You don’t want to back off. He rubs your arm with one hand, kissing your cheekbones gently while you breathe. “Can I ask you a question?” he whispers.

“Of course,” you respond, finding his lips to kiss him. “Anything.”

“Is this… am I your first?” There’s not a hint of malice in his voice, he isn’t judging you. You feel nothing but warmth and safety. You nod, no need for words as Matt’s forehead rests against yours. “Are you sure you want this? You can say no and I’ll stop right now. We don’t have to do anything.” You nod again. “You gotta say it,” he urges.

“Yes, Matt, please. I want you.”

He smiles, landing a kiss on your lips that takes your breath away. Nimble fingers slip down your body until they dip between your thighs, finally feeling you. You whimper, gripping his shoulder. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “Gonna make this so good for you, you deserve it.”

He’s sweeter than sugar, your Matty. Your Matty. You suppose you can say he’s truly yours, if only for the night. You’ve wanted him for months. Now that he’s here, so close, and touching you like this, you can barely believe it’s real.

“What do you do when you’re alone,” Matt whispers. “Do you go fast? Slow? How do you touch yourself.”

You feel your cheeks flush, this feels dirty, but you love it. “I- I usually start here,” you guide his fingers to your clit, moving them slowly. “Do that for a little while, then I-” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. You feel shy, you had always felt the need to hide when it came to your desires, and your pleasure. Matt was opening you up in ways you never could have imagined.

“Come on sweet girl, say it for me,” he encourages.

“Then I use my fingers,” you say. The butterflies in your stomach increase and you close your eyes, letting yourself feel.

“How many?” he asks. “You’ve got such pretty little fingers. Don’t wanna hurt you with mine.”

“Fuck,” you curse. His words are so dirty. You feel yourself growing wetter at the mere thought of his fingers buried inside you. He kisses your lips, urging you on. “Usually two, sometimes three if I really wanna feel it,” you confide.

Matt says nothing but slips one thick finger inside of you. You whimper and buck your hips, his finger reaches further inside than yours ever could. He rests his forehead against yours, fucking his finger into you at a steady pace. “How’re you feeling?”

You moan as he curls his finger, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. He looks so pretty looming over you, hair falling into his eyes, his lips pointed upward in a little grin. You watch as he licks his lips, awaiting your response.

“Feels so good,” you say, leaning up to kiss him.

“Good, he murmurs against your lips. “That’s what I wanna be hearing.”

You cry out as he eases another finger inside of you. The two curl just perfectly, hitting all the most pleasurable spots inside you. The calloused pads of his fingers brush your walls just so, building the pressure inside you more and more with each stroke. You grip his bicep, nails digging into his skin, and he leans in to kiss you fiercely. He still tastes like chocolate, you lick into the corners of his mouth as your hips buck up into his hands.

He’s fucking you so good with his fingers, steadily increasing his pace. He’s good at this, experienced, his fingers move so fluidly as your orgasm begins to build. It burns white hot in your belly in a way you’ve never felt before. It seems so easy, the way he’s supporting himself with one arm, kissing you occasionally as he fingers you.

You close your eyes again, allowing yourself to soak in the feeling. Pleasure rolls in gentle waves from your core up to the base of your spine. Your thighs are tense, and your calves are too. As you take mental stock of the state of your body you begin to realize how tense your muscles are. You take a deep breath, allowing the tension to melt away, starting with your neck and shoulders. You place one final kiss on Matt’s lips before you relax against the pillow. The feeling spreads down your spine as you let go, handing yourself fully over to the feeling of Matt’s fingers inside you. You relax your hips, your thighs following after as you succumb to the pleasure.

Your eyes snap open as the feeling begins to overtake you. The crest of the wave is rushing towards you, and of course, Matt knows.

“You’re close, I know you are,” he whispers, pressing gentle kisses to your neck, “You're squeezin’ my fingers so tight. Let go, beautiful girl. I’ve got you.”

You stop trying to hold it back. His fingers are filling you so well, pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace. Every few strokes he curls his fingers into that sweet spot inside of you. The way he knows just how to please you, how to make you fall apart, only adds to the experience.

“Matthew,” you moan, as the wave breaks. Your orgasm washes over you and fills your body with a tingling warmth. Matt presses his forehead to yours, a soft smile gracing his lips. You begin to shake as the motion of his fingers becomes too much, pleasure verging on the edge of pain. You press your lips to Matt’s as he draws his fingers away from your core.

The two of you pant into each other’s mouths as you pull away, Matt coming to rest against you. You can feel him through his boxers, he’s rock-hard. His hips shift against you, you can tell he’s holding back. “You did so well for me,” he whispers. “Was it good for you?”

You giggle, giving him another kiss. “Very.”

“That’s good,” he smiles. He lays back, one arm supporting his head. Your chest is still heaving as you lay by his side, tracing your fingers over his stomach. You bring your hand down his front until your fingers are brushing the hem of his boxers. “Oh- you don’t have to,” Matt says.

“I want to,” you reply against his lips. Tentative fingers break the band of his boxers, nails scratch the coarse hair you find there. You search out the warmth of his cock, taking him in your hand and pumping in soft, languid motions. Your brain goes fuzzy as Matt groans against your lips, kissing you harder. You go slow, not wanting things to end too quickly. You still want to feel him inside you, be as close as possible to him as he stokes the fire in your belly once more.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he praises. You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest at the thought that you are making him feel this good. “You’re a natural.”

His tongue slips past your lips as you keep stroking him, gaining a feel and a rhythm in your actions. “Matty,” you whisper to him. “Want you inside me now, please.”

You feel his smile spread against your lips. “You sure honey?”

“Yes, please,” you answer.

His grin widens and he presses you gently down onto your back. The kiss he gives you is different than the ones before, deeper, something indescribable lingering in the feel of his lips. He makes sure you’re comfortable before he takes his cock in hand and lines it up with your entrance.

There’s a stretch as he pushes into you, your head falls back against the pillow and you breathe a ragged gasp, fingers coming up to grip his biceps. Sure, it hurts, but at the same time it’s warm, and the ache melts away into pleasure as your body adjusts to the new sensation. “Fuck- it feels-” your words catch in your throat as he bottoms out, hips pressing flat against yours.

“Do you need a minute? Want me to pull out?” Matt asks, brushing your hair out of your eyes and cupping your cheek. He cares so deeply for you, to the point it aches in your chest. You are safe here.

“Just- stay still for a second.” You breathe in deeply, allowing the burn to settle into a pleasant, warm feeling. You lean up to press your forehead against Matt’s, kissing his lips softly.

He returns your kiss with gentle lips, whispering as you pull apart, “all good?” You nod your confirmation and he kisses your cheek. “If you want me to stop, just say so, alright?”

“Yes- Matt please, move.”

Matt does as he’s told, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. A whine leaves your lips as he continues at this pace, achingly slow but so good. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he says, leaning in to press his lips against your own. You close your eyes and become surrounded by Matt. His strong arms holding you close, his lips pressing into yours, and the sweet burn of his cock inside you. He fills every one of your senses, keeping you warm and safe in an all-encompassing embrace.

The way he drags against your walls with each stroke sends electricity through your spine. You find yourself wrapping your legs around his waist in an attempt to draw him deeper, clinging to his arms like he’ll disappear if you let go.

His lips travel towards your ear and he whispers to you, “talk to me sweetheart, tell me how you’re feeling.”

It takes you a moment to find your words, mouth agape as he sucks mark after mark into your skin. You wet your lips, threading your fingers through Matt’s hair and moving him until his lips hover over your own. “Feels so good Matty, fuck.” You let him kiss you, muffling your moans into his mouth.

You never want to let this moment go, you want to keep this feeling forever. The way he’s fucking you, the soft groans leaving his parted lips, the feeling of your skin on his, everything. It’s all too beautiful. You can’t believe this is really happening to you. You’ve loved Matthew Murdock for so long, and now that he’s finally yours you don't want to let him go again. It feels so good, and yet it’s not enough. You want Matt to claim you. You want to feel him long after he’s done.

“Want you to go faster,” you manage to pant into his lips. “Please- want it harder.”

“Fuck,” Matt responds, kissing you softly. He increases the pace of his hips, his thrusts becoming sharper. You feel the red-hot coil in the pit of your stomach begin to build again, Matt’s strokes bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You attach your lips to his neck, sucking a mark where you know it will be visible. “That’s it babygirl, want ‘em to know im yours.”

You whimper softly at his words. “Fuck, Matty, you’re mine,” you say, pulling his hair gently.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers in your ear. “All mine. Don’t want anyone else to even look at you, sweet thing. I want you all to myself.” His thrusts accentuate his words, claiming you over and over as he fucks into you. His teeth sink into the pretty skin of your neck once more, leaving mark after mark.

You’re racing toward your orgasm at an alarming pace, dissolving into a whimpering mess. “I’m close,” you tell him, bucking your hips against his own. The pleasure you’re experiencing is nothing like you’ve ever felt before, your entire body hot and tingling with the intensity of it. You feel the wave building once more, rushing toward its peak.

“That’s it, let go,” Matt murmurs, his forehead resting on yours.

The movement of his hips becomes more purposeful, each stroke hitting all the right marks, taking just the right amount of time. One of his hands comes to circle your clit, and you’re gone. You arch into him, crying out his name as your orgasm washes over you. Your body sings his praise, thrumming with pleasure, with fire, all at his hand.

He works you through it, praising you as he continues to seek his own pleasure. “You did so good for me baby, you feel so fuckin’ good. Tell me if it’s too much, m’kay?”

You nod, kissing him as his hips start to move erratically. In a moment of pure heat, you sink your teeth into his bottom lip, your fingers tugging on his hair in tandem. Your actions push him over the edge, spilling white hot inside of you. You squeeze his hips with your thighs, bringing him close as he buries himself inside of you.

The two of you pant into each other’s mouths, foreheads resting together as you come down from your high. Matt deflates, pulling out and flopping down beside you with a sigh. You remain on your back, allowing your heart rate to settle down. There’s peace between you, there always is, you never feel awkward around each other.

“That was…” Matt starts, turning back on his side so he can face you. His pretty, unfocused eyes are darting around, almost as if he’s trying to find you. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“Yeah?” you say.

Matt just smiles. He leans in, kissing you with a warmth you’re not accustomed to. And yet, something about it is so uniquely Matt that it feels familiar, comfortable even. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, smiling against his lips. You pull away, watching as his lips lift into a sweet smile as well.

“How’re you feelin’ sweet girl?” he asks. His voice is low, nearly a whisper. The moment is intimate, almost more so than your previous activities. His fingers caress the features of your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and tilting your chin up for one more kiss.

You hum in contentment. “Feel good,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

Matt laughs a little, sitting up and pulling the blanket over his lap. You move to rest your head on his thighs, wanting to remain as close to him as possible. “I’m glad we finally did that,” Matt says.

“Finally?” you ask.

“Yeah. Wanted to do that for a long, long time.” He answers. You giggle, feeling giddy. Matt has this effect on you, you blush in his presence, and grin the second you’re away from him. It had been a problem. You suppose maybe you won’t have to hide it anymore, now. “I’ve wanted you, for a long time,” he adds.

You prop yourself up, feeling his arms wrap around your torso as you go in for a kiss. The feeling of his warm skin on yours is one you’d like to remember forever. He is firm and solid underneath your soft form, his strong arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Matty,” you say with a soft voice, peering into those sweet brown eyes of his. “I’ve wanted you for a long time too.”

He cracks a grin that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, shining from ear to ear as he pulls you impossibly closer. “I want to take you out on a date, please. Stay here tonight. We can go for brunch tomorrow.”

You nod, “I’d love that.”

Matt gives you one more kiss, then pulls the blanket off his lap and scoops you into his arms. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up sweet girl.”

He runs a warm shower, holding you under the water, gently washing your back, and placing kisses on your cheek as he does so. You relax into him, leaning your back onto his chest as the warm water relaxes your muscles. You wash his hair for him, the domesticity of it all overtaking you. There is something so comfortable in doing this with your best friend, exploring your relationships, and following where your desires lead. You don’t know when the soap had washed from your body or when the water began to run cold, but at some point, the two of you moved from the bathroom back to the bedroom. Matt folded your discarded clothes and placed them in a neat little pile on the chair in the corner, offering you his softest hoodie and a pair of sweats for you to sleep in. His hair is messy and spiky from the way he ran a towel through it, a pair of gray sweats slung low on his hips. He holds a hand out to you, pulling

You find yourself cozy in Matt’s arms, laying your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His arms keep you safe, one large hand planted on your hip, the other gently petting your hair. You yawn, snuggling further into his chest, and you feel his lips tick up into a smile as he kisses your forehead.

“Tired?” he asks.

You nod. “You tuckered me out, Murdock. Haven’t felt this sleepy in a while.”

“Just relax, I've got you.” He squeezes you tight. “Sleep well sweet girl.”

You feel your body melt into his, comforted by his mere presence as your head moves with the rise and fall of his chest.

#this hit me in my college girl feelings so hard #i need matt murdock to hold me gently #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #college matt murdock x reader #reids fav fics

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lights-on-the-ridge · 3 days

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wildest dreams - m. murdock

a/n: i have literally not been inspired for two weeks then i was STRUCK with the urge to write this. guys. i am so proud of this one i am not even going to lie. this one is dedicated to @bunmurdock because i am literally always thinking about professor murdock.... i really hope you guys enjoy this one, because i enjoyed writing it :) warnings: SMUT! inappropriate dynamic, P in V smut, so much cursing, lots of inappropriate thoughts and pining, power dynamics, dirty talk, reader does an edible and is high for a small part of this fic, reader isn't stupid in this one! she is just horny! she is also deaf, and there is yapping of readers daddy issues word count: 6.3k likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 summary: you have a huge crush on your professor and spend many days desperate for him. pairing: professor!matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: wildest dreams - taylor swift (taylor's version) "i said, "no one has to know what we do"/his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"

You could treat him better than any of these other horny grad students.

Seriously, that is your only conscious thought watching this man move around the front of this lecture center. You’re not dumb, you know everyone sitting here wants him—Those who are attracted to men want to fuck him and those who aren’t seek his approval. But you are built different, you’re also lacking a major sense, besides, your brain runs ramped with disgusting thoughts about the man.

Today’s focus is on the man’s outfit. It’s his last class of the day, and it shows. His clothes are a bit more wrinkled, and his hair is messier than it had been when he started the day. But most importantly, his jacket is thrown on the back of his chair, meaning you have a phenomenal view of his torso.

He wears a white button down, with the cuffs of the arms rolled up to just below his elbows, the bottom of the shirt tucked into the waistline of his pants. The shirt is tight, maybe a little too tight, especially around the arms. Maybe it’s because he works out. Or at least, you assume he works out.

That brings us to his tie. Oh, his tie. It’s nothing special—a pure black tie, just hanging from his neck. Your mind wanders. It starts at the dissection of a key court case in the subject of minimum wage, but from there, it starts drifting to his tie.

You think about the tie moving back and forth above you as he thrusts into you, brushing against your face, pulling on it to bring him closer. You think about that soft half chuckle he does, before he says something dirty like—

“Did you have something to add?” His voice right in front of you snaps you out of your trance. Fuck. You were not paying attention.

“Uh, No, Professor..” Your face is a deep red, embarrassed. You wish you could take off your hearing aids to stop listening to all the giggling from around you, from peers who are thrilled that Professor Murdock’s little (not-so) secret admirer got called out for her staring.

“Hm,” he taps the table in front of you, “Then I want you paying attention.” He says, before going back to his lecture. You could die right there. Everyone is laughing at you. He embarrassed you.

Okay, so you have no proof that he’s ever wanted you in the way that you’ve been so god damn desperate for him, but it’s still crushing that he’d single you out in that way. That maybe while you were increasingly needy for him, he found you fucking annoying, in such a way that he felt the need to embarrass you in front of your peers.

You want to melt—Melt into a puddle with just your boots and your hearing aids left behind so you never have to face him ever again. That’s why you’re so relieved when he dismisses class right on time (Well, right on time for him. He always ends class five minutes early to leave room for questions) and you quickly gather your things.

Because of the sheer level of embarrassment he has caused you, the other students in the class who want him try to flock to him, sensing that you no longer have the confidence to engage with him—But your desire is still there, as you messily shove your things into your backpack. You turn when you’re finished, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your face is still flushed, part because you’re embarrassed, part because you are out of breath from rushing. But you are faced with the view of your professor, all alone. Your breath hitches when his hand moves up to the top of his tie, as he smooths it out, running his fingers down the fabric.

“I read your essay on the expectations of the courts and law versus the realities of it. I loved it. The argument using Gideon versus Wainwright to justify the existence of the right to counsel as a civil right and not a liberty was fascinating, especially considering your other arguments about how race, class and gender play into those realities. Well done. I thought it was some of your best work.”

Your face is flushed for a new reason now. Wasn’t this the same man who was mad at you for not paying attention?

“I thought so too.” You confess, and he just smiles. He loves that you’re confident in your work. You’ll make a great lawyer one day.

“Oh, and,” He digs through his leather satchel to pull out some notes, running his finger over the folder tab to make sure he has the right folder, “Here are the printed copy of our notes from the last few lectures.” It’s part of your accommodations that professors give you a copy.

“Thanks, Professor.” You smile gently, reaching out to take the papers. Your hands meet and as you grip the notes, the tips of your fingers just barely brush against his. Neither of you say anything. Neither of you let go.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He starts, “But you’re bright—Smarter than most of your professors, I bet. And I don’t want you to fall behind.” He says softly, and without saying it, you know he’s worried because of your hearing. He was disabled in law school once upon a time, and he recognizes your potential.

“It’s okay.” You say softly, softer than your voice usually is. “I get it, really. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He says gently, letting go of the papers now. As you clutch them close to your chest, his hand goes back up to mess with his tie again. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how wild it drives you? He must. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you on Thursday.” You agree, and that’s when you leave the classroom.

As the door closes behind you, he listens intently. He hears your nervous heartbeat, could practically feel the heat radiating off you. But he knows your routine by now. You’re about to start playing music, and he likes knowing what sort of mood you’re in as you leave his class.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears the opening notes of that new Hozier song, ‘Too Sweet’.

• • •

You are a straight A student. You study days in advance for exams, you write elaborate study guides and most of all, you do not miss class, unless you are dying (no, seriously, the last time you missed class you were rushed to the hospital, sick with pneumonia after a big exam, which you aced). So, when you’re not in Matt’s class on Thursday, he tries not to panic.

You’re a grown woman, he tells himself, and he doesn’t have an attendance policy, having told the class on syllabus day that he trusted them to know when to come to class and when they should go lay in the sun or stay home with a bad cold.

But you once came to class doped up on cold medicine with a mask on, just because you didn’t want to miss any important information. He heard it before you got to class, so he faked a family emergency to cancel class early that day. He could hear your rattled sigh of relief as the other students flooded out.

And he knows for a fact you didn’t show up today because of how fucking loud you are; You don’t mean to be, but he can hear the light buzzing of your hearing aids, and you wear these big work boots that stomp even when you’re trying to step lightly. And he heard neither buzzing nor stomps today.

Oh, your boots. He’s spent years with everything being too loud, but he just can’t help but think about the boots—What color were they? What were their texture? He has this fantasy that lives at the very back of his mind of putting you in heels, heels too big for anyone let alone a girl who only wears clunky work boots, that way he would have to help you, take care of you, and it is a fantasy that will probably live at the back of his mind until he dies.

Sure, he’d probably get married, settle down with someone his age and never worry if she might be dissatisfied with an older man, and she’ll be quiet. No hearing aids, no big boots. They’ll have kids, they’ll be happy together. He’ll still go to you when he can’t sleep, and no one will ever know.

Wait, what was he doing? Oh, right. You weren’t in class today.

His fingers move over the keyboard to look you up in the system. He clicks on the audio assistant to read him your information. It reads out your first and last name, middle initial, then your grade in his class (A+), your accommodations (Notes, time and a half, things like that), your birthday, and—

Wait, he takes a moment, and his fingers go over to his braille calendar, realizing that you’re taking a day off because it’s your birthday. A laugh escapes his lips, because how silly was he being?

His fingers move again to find your email address. He debates for a moment before adding the subject line, “Absence Today.” Then, he erases it and changes it to, “Class Today”, hoping you wouldn’t freak out before reading the email.

And just for a moment, he lets himself dream. He writes the following email to you,

“Hey, sweetheart—

Happy Birthday. I’m so happy you’re taking a break, you deserve it, more than anyone else I know. Are you doing something fun for it? Going out and getting wasted? Hooking up with some college guy who couldn’t fuck you properly?

If I could, my birthday gift to you would be a day spent with my face buried between your pretty thighs, although that might be a birthday gift to me and not to you. I’ve always been a selfish man, and you seem to be something I am entirely selfish about. I want your hands tangled in my hair, tugging on it as I taste you. I want you all to myself. I didn’t hear the buzzing of your hearing aids or the clunking of your boots, and I felt this striking yearning.

I can’t stand being around you without having you. It’s torture.

Happy Birthday,

Matthew.’

He thinks about it for a minute, before completely erasing the email, and sending you this one instead:

‘Missed you in class today! We went over the reading for Chapter Seven. Happy Birthday! Professor M’

He sends it, and then rubs his face, a long sigh leaving his lips. He is completely enamored by you, and it is so unfair. You’d be in class on Monday, he told himself. He’d see you then, and it would be like getting his fix of you.

Then, he turns to the distraction of trying to grade papers. It won’t work. He’ll still have you on his mind all day, and there will be no relief in sleeping. Hopefully he’ll dream of that long day between your thighs.

• • •

Truth be told, you were not drinking and fucking some random guy when Matt emails you. You were cuddled up in bed, giggling and eating snacks, so many snacks, because, well, you took an edible with a bunch of your friends and now are high out of your mind.

Some animated shows are on in the background, and when your phone buzzes, you pick it up and almost melt when you see the email from your favorite professor. You start giggling like a kid, your fingers clutching your phone as you read the email over and over again.

One friend looks up to you from her place on your floor and asks, “Are you alright?”

You don’t answer at first, but then you nod, and pull your blanket close, imagining Matt’s arms around you. Your brain paints you a picture of him holding you against his chest and gently playing with your hair.

It’s a nice fantasy.

• • •

For being a law student, you really fucking hate it sometimes. Okay, that’s not true. You love being a law student and are so excited to go out into the world and make that difference. But you’d be lying if you don’t sort of contemplate dropping out and getting a sugar daddy over certain assignments.

Maybe Matt is in the market. Then you shake your head to get the thought out of there, before opening your laptop to check your professor’s office hours. The one that assigned this assignment is an old bat who does not have office hours except for during your other classes on Fridays.

Then, you look at Matt’s office hours. He has office hours right now. You click the pen in your hand a few times, thinking. Contemplating. Would he want to see you at this point? Would you be able to control yourself?

You give the question you’re working on one more time before you lean down and grab your boots, starting to lace them up. Then, you pack up your bag, heart beating nervously over what—Asking him for help with an assignment?

You make it all the way across campus, the whole time worried about if you’ll walk in on your professor with some other girl. You almost laugh at that thought, because you think you’re silly for how dramatic you are about the man.

You stand down the hallway from his office for a few minutes, just contemplating. You could just turn around and not at all open the possibility of being around him, and everything stays the same. Nothing changes, and your relationship with your professor maintains it’s strictly professional relationship.

You walk towards the door, knocking on it before holding your breath.

“Come on in,” He calls from behind the door. Now or never. You open the door, and smile in his direction.

“Hey, professor,” You greet, a soft smile on your face. His tie is loose around his neck. You blink away whatever daydream your brain wants to dive headfirst into.

“Hey,” He greets, “I don’t think you have any assignments due, so what’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. As you think about it, you realize that you do not need help with an assignment.

“This is going to sound like a lie. But I had trouble with this assignment earlier, and suddenly I walked in here and realized I knew exactly what I was doing. I’m sorry for bothering you.” You explain, but you make no attempt to turn around and leave.

“Let me guess,” He starts, gauging by what year and academic proficiency you’re at, “Professor Reid’s estate planning class? That assignment about the will and testament of an old lady with a marriage less than 90 days and estranged kids?”

You groan and take a seat in one of the chairs in his office. He laughs in response, shaking his head.

“That old bat.” You roll your eyes. He just smiles and shakes his head.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to cheat on your final.” He tells you, and you give him a perplexed look.

“What?”

“Well, for the final, there’ll be a question about a super niche argument on inheritance. Just cheat on it.”

“You’re a professor, telling me to cheat?”

“I cheated on it,” He shrugs. You suddenly remember that he used to go to school here and has taken all the classes you’re struggling with right now.

“You’re being unprofessional.” You tell him, and he smiles again. Your heart skips a beat, and somehow, his smile grows. As if he knows exactly what sort of effect he has on you. As if this is all a game he likes to play with you, his eager and willing participant.

“Okay, forget that I told you to cheat on Reid’s exam. We have to talk about something, it would be awkward to just sit here in silence. Uh, what did you major in in undergrad?”

“English. I minored in Disability studies.”

“So why Law?” He asks curiously, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, before resting them on his desk. Jesus Christ.

“I’m tired of being poor.” The answer slips out before you can really stop yourself. He laughs again, and something in you stirs. As if making him laugh is the newest way you feel good about yourself. How twisted is that? “I’m being serious!” You laugh too, unable to contain it.

“I’m sure,” he promises, “I grew up poor too, I was sick of it too. But if you’re going to be a lawyer—”

“You need to have respect for the law and the people taken advantage by it,” You finish, “I get that, really, I do. And I want to help people. I want to go into divorce law and help all the poor and battered women like—” You’re forgetting yourself. You’re forgetting that this isn’t a date and that this man is your professor.

“Like..?” He prods you to finish, curious. He is on the edge of his seat about you. This is more than he has gotten of you in the past few weeks you’ve been taking his class.

“Like my mom.” You finish suddenly looking for something to do with your hands. Anything, really. “But the check that comes with it isn’t exactly deterring me, you know?”

“I get that,” he says earnestly, “I was an orphan, one of those dirty scrappy ones you feel bad for,” he does that half chuckle that makes you want to go over there and kiss him. “Never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was young. So, I get it. Being poor and wanting to do better for yourself. For your parent who sacrificed for you.”

But it clicks for him, the hidden meaning behind your ambitions. You have daddy issues, and he can tell that’s part of your crush on him. Though, he’ll never say it to you. He’ll let it be something unspoken between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you do get it.” You smile softly. But this is dangerous. So so dangerous. The two of you are dancing this dangerous line—Well, more like you’re damn well dancing clear over the line and ignoring it. But you don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you don’t want to stop it.

“Well, uh, maybe you could finish that assignment while we’re here.” He clears his throat, straightening his tie and you try to connect the wires in your brain to focus on the assignment. You pull it out of your bag and place it on his desk, smoothing it out a bit. Matt gets up and starts to wander around the office, and you look at him curiously. “I think better when I can move around.”

You should’ve known that much, you have stared at him doing lectures, wandering from end to end of the rows and rows in the classroom.

“Yeah, totally,” You nod, focusing on the assignment. It’s on paper, the old bat refuses to use online assignments. You’re practically flying through the assignment, and it’s at the point where you are forgetting your company. In fact, you really don’t notice him.. Until you lean back and stretch, jumping when you realize that Matt has taken a spot right behind you, his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning forward. You’re practically leant up against him.

“See? Was that so hard?” Your face flushes, his voice right next to your ear. He has to know; he has to know how you’re affecting him. You tilt your head a bit, and your eyes are level with his chin. His stubble moves as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t smell much like anything… except the faintest hint of clean sheets and this slight scent of mahogany. It would go perfect with a whiff of whiskey.

“No,” you say quietly, and he almost shudders at the feeling of your warm breath against his cheek. “Not at all, Prof—”

“Call me Matt.” It’s almost begging. You’re kind of into it, but that’s not surprising given how incredibly attractive you find him.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He has reduced you to one-word answers. The two of you stay quiet for a while. You’re unsure what to say. Matt is contemplating his options. Anyone could walk in on the two of you like this. The door isn’t locked, and you want to bring this up, but the words die out in your throat. His head tilts a bit towards you, and you get a glimpse at those perfect lips of his.

“You know—” He starts, but before he can get any farther, you lean in and kiss him. You kiss him intensely, your hand on his cheek, and for once, you are not filled with regret at a bad decision. He doesn’t react at first, and for just a second, you’re nervous.

Then, He kisses you back, letting out this deep hum as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head to get deeper into your mouth, and his hands make their way down to your hips. He focuses for a second, before wrapping his arms around you to pick you up and sitting you on his desk.

His hands trail down as the pair of you kiss, landing on your thighs. His fingers rub back and forth, and you gasp when he squeezes your thighs. He grins and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your clunky boots hit against his desk and he practically growls at the sound. He pulls away, his teeth biting your bottom lip as he does.

You’re completely out of breath, and so is he. He stumbles back a bit, his lips swollen and bright pink from kissing you. He wipes his mouth as he pants, and inhales deeply. You run your fingers through your hair, brushing the hair that has fallen onto your face.

“We..” he mumbled gently, running his hand over his chin. “Holy shit, kid—”

“Don’t call me kid—”

“Listen,” he goes over to you and brushes the hair from your face, “That was.. it was phenomenal, but someone could’ve walked in on that, and.. Fuck, if we do that again, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” he confesses, his hands on your cheeks.

“When I was staring off into space last week, I was thinking about your tie.” You tell him, your hands are finding the base of it now. He tilts his head, curiously.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Was daydreaming about it brushing against my face as you fuck me.” You could swear his face is red. You grin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, taking the tie from you and bringing the tie up to brush against your cheeks, “Like that?” he teases, and you laugh back. Dick.

“Mhm,” You giggle, and your hands find his, wrangling the tie out of his hands, and tugging on it, before bringing him in for another kiss. He inhales deeply as he kisses you, taking the taste of you in for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m serious, sweetheart, this is dangerous.”

“Sweetheart?” You grin. He takes your chin and grips it between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey. Pay attention.” He says, and you want to argue that saying things in that low gravely tone will not help you pay attention, but you can tell he’s serious. That he wants your attention focused on him, this is important. “Listen. I like you. I like you a lot, but we have to be careful if we want any of this to go further. We have to be subtle and watch our steps.” He says softly.

“Okay.” You promise, “Okay, we should be careful.” He smiles gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Good pup.” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I like ‘pup’.” You like sweetheart too, but your stomach flips when he calls you pup.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He grins. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you said we have to be careful.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my address and you can come over.” He shrugs. “I know how badly I need you, I can only imagine how you feel.” He hums, and you grin.

“Okay, Here, give me your phone.” Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. You put your number in with your name, sending yourself a quick text before handing the phone back to him. “There. Send it to me.” He steps back so you can hop off the desk, before putting your homework back in your bag.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, he grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you close, just to kiss you again.

• • •

Your hands are shaking as you drive over to Matt’s apartment. You’re so full of desire for him, and you take a second after parking the car to adjust your hair and makeup. Luckily you had no plans with your friends so it’s not like you’re hiding anything from anyone.

Are you about to sleep with the professor you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester? Hopefully. You take a quick glance down to the apartment number he sent you before climbing out of the car, locking it behind you.

Then, you manage your way through the building, finding yourself in front of his door for the second time tonight. You hesitate. Though, you’re not sure why. Well, maybe you do. Maybe you’re terrified that this is going to be bad. Or maybe that you’re scared you’ll be bad, and he’ll hate you.

Maybe you just need to get over yourself. Although, you can’t really do much more convincing because Matt swings open the door and grins at you. You almost die at the sight of him. His tie is gone, and his shirt is unbuttoned by three buttons.

“You’re so hot,” You blurt out as you hand him a cheap bottle of wine you picked up on the way here.

“You’re cute,” he hums, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the apartment, leaving you giggling as he closes the door behind you. You look around his apartment, your eyes catching on the giant billboard. You’re standing in front of the window when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips gently kiss your neck, up and down, biting your shoulder gently. “Enamored by the billboard, sweetheart?”

“Your windows are so big, probably a lot of light in here during the day.” You say softly, and he smiles against your neck.

“Mhm, one day, I’ll fuck you against those windows—”

“Matt,” You groan, but he just shushes you and kisses your neck again.

“I know, pup,” He hums, “But don’t worry, I’ll show you a very nice time, hear all those pretty noises you can make for me.” You blush, turning to say something to him but he wraps his arms around your waist again, before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his room. You’re laughing all the way there, before throwing you onto the bed.

“Mean.” You accuse, but he shrugs.

“You’ll get over it, sweetheart, I promise.” He hums, and you sit up on his bed. He stands between your legs, leaning down to kiss you gently, his hands finding your cheeks again. He kisses you like this for a few minutes, before slowly kneeling in front of you, never breaking the increasingly sloppy kiss. You pull away from the kiss to study him. He tilts his head, his hands finding your thighs to rub them again as he did in the office. “What?” he asks gently.

“I spent all those lectures only being able to study you from a far.. Just let me really look at you for a while..” You request. He grins gently as your fingers run over his stubble again. Your hands move up to his glasses. “Can I take these off?” You request, tilting your head.

Matt hesitates, just for a second. He’s not really used to it, to someone truly wanting to see him, every part of him. But he trusts you, wants you to see him. So he nods, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ as you pull off those circular red glasses, gently folding them and setting them down somewhere safe.

Then, you take a good, long look at his eyes. They’re this deep brown, almost black, irises that are drop dead gorgeous. The skin around his eyes is scarred, but the scars are old, yet, you rub your thumb gently against that scarred skin. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his eyes, first the left one, then the right one.

He leans up and kisses you after that, his hands slowly making their way down your legs. Your hands find his buttons of his shirt starting to undo them. He pulls away from the kiss, before slipping off his button up, throwing it away somewhere in the room. Your eyes drift down to these scars on his collarbones, and your fingers run over them. Then, you notice other scars on his skin, and your hands find those too.

“Your boots are so loud,” he hums, and you’re taken back by it.

“What?”

“Your boots.” He hums, “I hear you stomping around with these things on, they’re.. Like a bell, you know? I like knowing you’re around.” His fingers go down to the laces of your left boot, slowly untying them. Then, he does the same with the right boot.

He pulls off your boots, before running his fingers over your socks.

“They’re multicolored. Bright and patterned.” You confess, and he grins, before pulling them off. Then, he stops, realizing you have another pair of socks on. He blinks, before starting to laugh.

“You have two pairs of socks on?” he chuckles, your face flushing.

“My boots are just a little too big!” You tell him, and he laughs, resting his head against your thigh. He finishes taking your socks off, before working on the buttons of your jeans. When he finally gets those undone, he pulls off your pants, throwing them somewhere close to his now abandoned shirt. His hand comes up to rub you through your panties, and he lets out a scoff as he does.

“So wet for me, pup..” He mumbles, coming up to gently kiss your cheeks and then your jaw, as you whine. “I know, baby, I know,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently. You whine gently at the feeling, gripping his wrist. He chuckles softly, kissing you to shut you up a bit.

He pulls his hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull off your tee shirt, throwing it wherever. He starts to kiss you as you fiddle with the buttons of his pants and pull them off, letting him step out of the before he casts them away.

You grin into the kiss, before he pulls away.

“What? What’s got you so giddy, pup?” he asks, a grin on his face too.

“Briefs,” You hum, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Thinking about your professor’s underwear?” He teases, leaning in to bite your neck. “Dirty, dirty girl.” He grins, and you swat at his shoulder, which causes him to laugh. He likes having fun with you, even if it’s not inherently sexual.

His hands come up to run gently over your skin, trailing from your hands up to your shoulders, and then all the way to your ears, where his fingers gently run over your hearing aids. It’s a nice gesture, really, but as soon as his fingers brush over your hearing aids, you immediately retract, the feedback shooting through your skull, uncomfortably.

“Ow—” You cringe, leaning your head back to try and get away from his fingers. He cringes, hearing the feedback, not as badly as you do but knowing it’s there and that you’re in pain pains him.

“I’m sorry,” he coos softly, his fingers moving down to cup your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I hadn’t realized—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” You hum, tilting your head to kiss his palm gently. “It happens, It’s why you should never touch them while I have them on.” You shrug. He leans down and kisses your stomach a bit, before going back to kiss you again, deepening the kiss a bit before roughly shoving you back on the bed. You giggle as he climbs on top of you, caging you in between his legs, as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. He kisses you with passion and need, and it drives you entirely too wild. As he pulls away, one hand comes up to grip your chin, before he leans down with his head against yours.

“Want me to fuck you, pretty thing?” He asks gently, his voice sweet as honey as he talks so obscenely to you. You whine, finally getting what you want after weeks and months of waiting. He just smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, puppy, you gotta say it to me.” He requests.

“Yes, I want you..” You groan, bucking your hips a bit at the thought of him finally fucking you.

“Want me to do what?” he asks, innocently.

“Want you to fuck me, please..” You request, and this finally seems to satisfy him. His hand comes down to unhook your bra, throwing it behind him with the rest of your clothes, before his lips begin to travel downwards, kissing down your jaw and neck, before he’s kissing the valley of your breasts, his hand going down to rub your clit again.

He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wetness soaking through your underwear and listening to your moans. His hands begin to work to take off your panties, and as soon as those are gone, your hands come up to his briefs, wanting them gone.

“Off, off, off—” You huff, and he laughs as he slips them off. Then, he reaches over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, but you grab his hand, shaking your head, “No, no—I’m on the pill, promise.”

“You sure?” He asks gently, and you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Sure.” You nod, and then you’re kissing him again, your hand going down to stroke his cock, and he gasps into the kiss, before chuckling. He pulls away to mutter out to you--

“Needy girl,” he purrs, before moving to kiss you again. As you’re kissing, he slips his cock into you, and you moan into the kiss, tensing at the feeling, “Relax for me, pup.. So fucking tight for me.” He groans, his hand coming down to swat your thigh. “Relax.” He tells you, his voice sterner this time.

You nod, trying to form a more conscious thought than the pure bliss you feel, your hands wrapping around his neck, scratching down his back a bit. He groans softly, as he starts to slowly thrust into you. He is using every ounce of self-control he has, resisting the urge to absolutely violate you.

But he’s trying to be gentle, be nice.

“Faster,” You gasp out, your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He does that half chuckle, and it makes you whine as he begins to speed up.

“Beautiful little pup..” he says lowly, “Been staring at me.. Wanting your professor so badly these past few weeks, dirty little thing,” he hums, “Fuck, so.. fuck..” Your legs are beginning to shake the longer and harder he thrusts into you. “So fucking good for me..” You whine into his lips as they crash into yours, one hand going down to rub your clit gently, the stimulation too much for someone who hasn’t had sex this good, ever, but especially because you haven’t had sex at all in the past.. well, six or more months.

“Matty, ‘m..” You can barely get the words out as he fucks you harder,

“I know baby, come on, cum for me, pup,” he coos, his thrusts nor rubbing slowing down, maintaining his pace. Within a minute, you’re coming with loud moans into his ears, and he’s following suit shortly after, coming deep inside you.

But for the few minutes after the two of you finish, he continues his thrusting, relishing in the pretty moans and the sound of his deep thrusts into you. Eventually, he slows down, remaining deep inside of you. He pulls you close, kissing you deeply before flipping the pair of you over, and holding your legs close to stay buried deep inside of you.

For a few minutes, there are no words spoken, just deep, frantic pants and sweaty skin against each other.

“You know, that was as good as I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.” You pant, “Better, even..” He laughs and nods.

“Me too..” he kisses you softly. “Let me take you out somewhere.”

“I thought we had to be careful..”

“We’ll go away somewhere then. Just the two of us for the weekend. I need to be with you, I can’t get enough of you now that I’ve had a taste.. Besides, I haven’t even eaten you out. Now that, that is going to be fun.” He grins, and you swat his arm.

“Evil, mean man!” You gasp, and he just laughs, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry, pup, let me make it up to you,” he hums.

“How?”

“Calling you pup a few times, ordering Thai food and teaching you how to suck me off?”

“I know how to suck you off,” You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, leaning in to kiss him. Then, lips still against yours, he whispers, “Prove it, pretty puppy.”

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