#daredevil x male reader smut

[hellsburners]

test drive nothing

summary: Your date is a fucking asshole so you find two lovely men who are willing to make it up to you. pairing: matt murdock x male reader x peter parker word count: 3.2k  warnings: 18+ warning, alcohol use, some rude guy at a club, threesomes, top!matt, top!peter, bottom!reader, gay sex, semi-public stuff a bit, eiffel towered reader iykwim a/n: sorry for the delay didnt feel good for the past few days, anyway i hope yall like this idk what i was doing with this but if you liked it interractions are very much welcome and appreciated.

masterlist | more matt | more peter

gif credit for peter & matt

Heat rose up from your toes to your head. Music blasting from speakers left and right, neon streams of strobing light lit the dark room. People dancing around and drinking. It’ll be fine, you thought. It was your first time in this club, a Grindr match invited you here so you could hang. You were scanning the room for him, his pic showed a lean man with blonde hair and blue eyes on a beach in California. 

You here? You messaged him. Well, you’ve been messaging him the same question for the past hour, no response. Your cheeks turned red from the anxiety. You nape, turning stiff and sore. 

“Hey,” an arm caresses yours. It was him, he was wearing a black tank top tucked into cargo pants. “So, you ordered a drink?” You shook your head, he called on the bartender and gave you a drink suggestion. Since you weren’t much of a drinker you went with his choice, vodka martini. 

The two of you talked for a few minutes, catching up on typical first date things. You found out that he was a doctor for MetroGen, he liked hockey, and he has a pet dog. He was now a few inches from you, his breath reeking of alcohol, his light blue eyes piercing yours. He tried to inch closer to you, to kiss you. Feeling like he was being too fast you pulled back. 

“Maybe we should go dance?” you asked, standing up from the bar stool. He reluctantly agrees. You gesture to the dance floor. The two of you walk towards the building crowd. You were bumping onto bodies left and right. You were holding your drink, trying not to spill it. A man with brown hair bumps into you, you almost spilled the drinks from the tight space. He told you he was fine and left smiling. You thought of his face, it felt familiar.

“Hey you coming?” your date says, starting to dance. You joined him, slowly feeling into the fast beat of the music. He places an arm at your lower back. Your hands to his shoulders. Your hips moving left and right. He stares at different men passing you by, his gaze on them rather than you. 

You see a guy wink at him and he winks back. You thought he was just friendly, he seemed to be the type. He knew people in the club and he’d greet them left and right. You felt isolated. You look around, people dancing and laughing, it suffocates you. Your hands started to jitter around the glass, you almost felt it slip.

“I think I’m gonna go—” you gestured for the restroom. He grabs your wrist and pulls you back. His arm wrapped tightly across your back. His grip was firm, he reeked so bad of alcohol you hadn't noticed he was actually so drunk from earlier. “Please, let me go. You’re making me uncomfortable.” 

He starts to initiate a kiss. You push him away, he doesn’t budge.

“Come on now babe, we haven’t had much fun yet,” he whispers to your ear, you cringe from his disgusting tone. A hand pulls his arm away. The weight lifted off of you. 

“He said let go, man,” someone says, it was the brunette from earlier. Your date shrieks from the man’s grip. You see his fingers almost crush his wrist. His brown eyes were stern, his brows furrowed. 

“Piss off! That’s my date,” he tries to reach for you. The brunette pushes you aside gently, blocking you away from him. Your date pushes the brunette, taunting him. He tries to take a punch toward the man protecting you, he blocks it. The guy tried to lunge further, to take the brunette by the collar and slam him. You see the brunette clutch his fists, his nails burying in his palms. Too bad for your date the bouncer came in and ushered him out. He went out screaming and cursing. 

“You okay?” the brunette said. He gestured for you to go back to the bar and grab some water. 

“Yeah, fucking prick,” you said soothing your wrist before taking a sip of ice cold water. The shock releases your skin of all the tension. “Knew that app was a hell hole.”

“Met him from Grindr, huh?” he asked, you nodded reluctantly. Now that you were far from the strobe lights and all the different colors you could see his face clearly. You had seen his face before, not from earlier, but from somewhere years ago. Your face contorted to a confused look. 

“Have we met before?” you asked,he smiles.

“Must be the glasses, ditched them years ago.” He points two fingers to his eyes. 

“Oh my god from high school! I know your name I swear,” you tried to search your brain for a name, or the first letter at least. 

“I bet you a million dollars you won’t remember my name, not really a popular guy in high school,” he chuckles. He takes a sip of coke, his arm resting on the bar counter. You close your eyes trying to search for the name.

“Peter Parker!” you shouted. “Venmo me a million dollars right now."

“Well give me your number so I can send it,” he takes out his phone. You smiled, you took his phone and typed the ten digits. “I’ll send it to ‘ya when I win the lottery.” The two of you laugh.

“Wanna dance?” you asked. 

“You sure?” he said, looking confused. 

“Yeah, can’t let one man ruin my night right?” you started backing up towards the dance floor. He was hesitant at frist, following you he takes your shoulder to guide him.

The two of you started to dance. The lights flood your eyes with different colors. You asked if you could put your hands on him, he nodded. You rest your hands on his shoulders. He asked the same question, you nodded as well. You guided his arms around your waist. He was gentle about it. The pressure was so light it felt like nothing. 

You placed a hand on his handsome face, pushing his hair aside. “Do you want to kiss me? I think you wanna kiss me?” he whispered.

“You want to bet another million dollars on that?” you laughed. 

Your lips meet, his soft lips warm on yours. He was everything the man earlier was not. Each step he asked for your consent. His hands were light on your body. His kiss was slow and gentle. He was simply a nice guy. 

He told you that he forgot to mention he was actually meeting with a friend. You got shy thinking he was on a date and you now ruined it but he assured you it was just a friend. A few minutes of chatting led to the two of you laughing at each other’s jokes. It was around midnight already. 

Peter called for someone behind you, you turned to see who it was and it was a man a bit older than him. He wore a black suit and a white shirt and he wore these ruby colored glasses. He was an attractive man, his mouth smirked as he waved at Peter. 

“Hey, this is my friend Matt,” Peter says to your ear, the music almost making it inaudible. Matt smiles as Peter introduces you to him. 

“Sorry for being late, work stuff,” you noticed his eyes behind the glasses focused above your head, never going your way. He’s blind, Peter mouths at you. Oh. Peter told you two to get to know each other as he gets more drinks. 

“You from Midtown?” you asked. 

“Hell’s Kitchen actually, I’m a lawyer,” he says. You told him about how you met Peter in high school. 

“Oh, hence the corporate get-up, I dig it” you said, he laughs, his cheeks showing off his dimples. 

Peter came back with three shot glasses. He hands you and Matt one. He offers a toast and the three of you bring your glasses to a clink. You down the shot, the liquid burning your throats. And the three of you took another shot, and another, and another.

You tap Matt’s shoulder gently. “Let’s dance some,” you say to him.

“Oh no, I don’t dance,” he puts the shot glass down. Waving his hands with hesitation.

“That’s not true, I saw you once!” Peter said, Matt pressed his palm on his mouth and made a shushing sound. The three of you were laughing hysterically. 

“Oh come on do it for me,” you dragged the words. He loosens his tie and joins two of you. 

Peter’s arm was around your shoulder as the two of you danced to the beat, your hips swaying. You held onto the hem of Matt’s sleeve pulling him in. He awkwardly tries to dance with the two of you. It was cute, you thought. Peter was now behind you, your back pressed to his chest. Matt playfully guided your hands to his shoulders, moving his body left and right. It was out of beat but it was the thought that counts. 

Maybe it was alcohol, or the moment, or the fact that there were two very attractive men dancing with you, but you started to feel something. Like heat rising to your cheeks in a good way, your knees feeling weak. Peter placed a kiss on your nape. You ushered yourselves closer to Matt. Peter’s hand went to Matt’s waist pulling him into you. 

Matt placed his arms in your waist, light but stern. You wrapped your arms around his neck. You could smell him, like sandalwood and musk. “You could ask him if you want to. I won’t mind,” Peter said, as if being able to read your mind.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked Matt. Your mind completely focused on the two men with you. Matt giggles and places a kiss on your lips. Peter’s kiss was soft, Matt’s was more heated, like his thick lips were sucking you in. 

“So you two do this a lot?” You pointed at Matt and Peter. 

“Only if the guy is cute.” Peter said. 

“But the two of you?” you chuckled. Peter placed his hands on Matt’s cheek, whispering something in his ears. Matt nods and Peter places a kiss on Matt’s lips. 

“That wasn’t too bad. Can’t believe we haven’t done that before Matt," he pats his back.

“Maybe we can take this party to my place?” Matt said. You looked at Peter, who was also looking at you. You both tell Matt yes. “Let me go get a cab.” 

Now outside, Matt was hailing for a cab. The streets were cold. Peter wraps his arms around you. Body heat, he says. You go on your tiptoes to kiss him again. More feverish this time. You could feel his hardness press on your waist. “Sorry, I couldn't wait, this is so hot.”

Matt arrives, his brows raised in disbelief. A cab waiting for the three of you. Matt tugs on Peter’s collar and shoves him to the front seat. “You sit there and watch.”

You and Matt continue to make out in the back seat. His shirt was now untucked from his waist. His tie was long gone and his shirt opened a bit. He places soft wet kisses to your neck making you moan. The two of you could care less about what the cab driver thought. 

Peter looks at the two of you from the rearview mirror, the erection in his pants stirring. He palms the damn thing. He really could not wait. 

Matt’s hands came to your thigh, your hands peeking through the hem of his shirt, you could feel his bare skin, all warm and hard. The car slowed, you’ve arrived at Matt’s apartment. Peter pays, you and Matt hurrying to the front door. “Hey wait up!” Peter yelled. 

While Matt was fumbling to get his keys Peter pulled you to him. “I’m starting to get jealous here,” he whispers. 

“I want you both, so fucking bad.”

“Then you’ll have us,” he cups your face and kisses you again, his tongue meeting yours. His hand comes to your lower back, playing with the hem of your pants. His fingers slowly going underneath the fabric.

The door unlocks. “Door’s open, you two,” he takes his suit jacket off. 

The three of you were undressing in Matt’s living room, stumbling from getting rid of tight shirts and long pants. You stare at their bodies both scarred, Peter was lean but still muscular, while Matt was more bulky. Their erections form tents in their boxers. 

Peter sat down on the sofa, gesturing for you to sit on him. Matt sits next to him. God they were a sight. You ride Peter’s thigh. Your hands palming his torso. Peter touches your sex, you were also so hard. You whisper to Peter that you’d like to suck him off. He curses and nods.

You go down on your knees, pulling his boxers with you. His long cock springs up, the head a bright red. He points the tip to your lips, you give it kitten licks, the sensitive head throbbed from the motion. 

Matt started to palm his boxers as you sucked Peter off. Your hand wanders to his hairy thighs. Matt releases his cock, it was shorter than Peter’s but still pretty big, what Peter lacked in girth Matt showed off more. You started to stroke his cock, your mouth still on Peter’s. The two men moaned, their eyes closed and their heads held back. 

“Fuck you’re so good,” Peter coos. He takes you to sit on the couch, he goes down on his knees to pleasure you. With his mouth to your cock, Matt went on to leave kisses to your neck, his hand on Peter’s head, pushing him deeper. You moaned so much from it. Your hands go to Matt’s cock, now leaking with precum. 

“I want to fuck you,” Peter said. You asked where the bedroom was and Matt led the two of you to his queen sized bed. Matt sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, you crawled to him and took him in your mouth, the girth filling your warm mouth. Peter massages your ass from the back. Matt jerked his hips making you choke a little, you moaned, your throat vibrating on Matt’s cock. “Moan louder pretty, Matt likes it a lot.”

Peter takes your underwear off. He parted your ass and began to lick in your hole. You moaned on Matt’s cock, he shuddered from the sudden wave of pleasure; he brushed his hand through your hair. “My god sweetheart you’re too good at this.”

You felt Peter’s shaft tapping against your whole. “Condoms?” he asked. Matt gestured for the bedside table. Peter went on to get them. You released Matt’s cock to look for him but he pulled you into a kiss. 

“Peter’s gonna go first, is that okay?” Matt asked in between kisses. You nodded. Peter returned with condoms and a small bottle of lube. He places the condom on his cock, stroking it after with lube. 

“‘You ready?” you nod. Peter slowly presses the tip to your whole, the tight muscle contracts around the head making it tighter.

“Relax for me baby,” Peter coos, rubbing his hands on your back. He fully sheathed himself in you. You felt so full and so good. Peter fucking you while your mouth was on Matt’s cock, it drove you crazy. Peter pulled you to his chest, one hand to your cock while the other teasing your nipples. Matt went to your cock and placed small licks to your shaft, precum dripping from your tip. Matt took you in, your cock hitting the back of his throat as Peter pounded you. Matt choked but kept going. 

“You sound so good taking Peter,” Matt said, his lips swollen red. Your hands brushed through his hair. Peter fucked you so sensually any trace of stinging alleviated from your body. There was fluidity to the way he moved, like a dancer or a gymnast, all steady movement but still so graceful. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” Peter groaned. 

You felt so close too. Your rhythm became erratic, more lazy and inert. He let out a few more thrusts, emptying inside you. You came on Matt’s lips. Your chest heaving, Peter gave you a kiss on your temple, whispering praises. 

Matt wiped his lips, licking your cum and sucking on his fingers. “My turn,” Matt guided your back to the bed. He took your legs and placed them on both sides of his hips. His cock leaking with pre, he takes the condom packet and places a rubber on him as well, lubing it after. 

You still felt weak from Peter, who was now cradling you in between his legs, your back to his. He is laying down with his back to the headboard resting for a bit. Matt slowly pressed himself into your hole, you groaned. Peter whispered words of comfort to your ears, brushing his hands through your hair as Matt moaned to the feeling of your hole around his cock. 

Matt peppered you with kisses. His hands snaked around your body feeling every bit of skin, his fingertips tracing every crevice and every groove, every bit of fat and muscle. He looked so good, hips thrusting while his dark hair stuck to his forehead drenched in sweat. His mouth agape as he cursed, calling for God's name. 

Peter’s hand went to your cock, now soft and a bit sore. He traced his fingertips on the wet slit, the sensitive tip made you writhe from the sensation. A few moments later you began to harden again. Peter spat on his palm and stroked your cock after. Your eyes closed from all the pleasure. 

You felt your spirit lift from your body. These two men were bringing pleasures to your body you hadn’t known existed. You felt as if your body were ascending to heaven for a second there. 

Matt bent down to give you a fevered kiss. Peter squeezed himself to the kiss. The three of you sharing your tongues and lips. Matt’s stubble pricked your cheeks but it didn’t matter. You felt yourself near another orgasm. You were now a sobbing mess between these two. Matt fucked you harder, you felt his orgasm nearing as well. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried. Matt said he was close too, whining your name. Peter pumped your cock until your eyes closed from the pleasure, your hands gripping onto the sheets, your toes curled. Matt’s erratic rhythm came to a stop as he emptied his cum in the condom. Leaving you both a moaning mess. 

The three of you shared one last kiss before crashing onto the bed. Matt went to the bathroom to get you a wet towel. Peter peppered your temples with kisses, whispering praises. Matt came back with the towel and helped you and Peter clean up, he took extra good care with cleaning your behind. 

After that, the three of you laid naked on Matt’s bed, drenched in sweat. You felt yourself drift off to the night. Your head to Matt’s chest and Peter’s arms wrapped around you. 

You wake up to the sound of frying and the smell of cooked bacon. You found yourself tucked in Matt’s blanket, with your boxers on and Matt’s shirt on you. You stood up, your back aching, and went to Matt’s small kitchen. You found the two boys cooking breakfast. It was Matt who noticed you first. 

“Hungry?” he asked, finishing off frying eggs. Peter noticed who Matt was talking to and smiled. He walked towards you to give you a kiss on the forehead, his hands on a plate of bacon and some toast. 

You smirked, very. 

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 :>

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[clarks-letterman]

a man's sport | Matt Murdock x reader

a/n — wrote this because pool is such a slutty sport idk // title is a joke

warnings — rimming (Matt receiving), not proofread (late night sorry)

summary — Drunken fools make a bet and don't even follow it, too entranced to care.

words — 2.5k

~~~

There comes a time in every man’s life where he gambles with dice he doesn’t know every side of. He makes choices with a devil on his shoulder to guide him, or maybe an unassuming angel, naively nudging his shoulder so that he turns down the wrong path.

You met Matt on a night like tonight a few weeks ago when he came into the bar with a black eye and a story to tell. It was easy to get it from him after offering to buy the first round of drinks. ‘A car accident,’ he said, ‘involving no more than a parked car and an ignorant passenger opening the door.’ You could put two and two together, but you could also tell when someone was lying. He walked through the door that night, claiming to have gotten it on his walk over, but the development of it seemed too fast. Then, for the entirety of that night, you had to remind him every half-an-hour or so to apply something cold to the area for the swelling and the pain likely tingling on the surface. He teased you, calling you his ‘mother’ for being so overbearing, but it was just the way you knew someone would typically treat a shiner like that.

Somehow, it didn’t scare him away. Matt would show up to the bar, alone, often asking the bartender if you had come in. It became a silent agreement that the two of you would meet after your respective jobs to just forget about everything else. The disconnect and difference between your lives meant that you could be yourselves, and learn about things you never knew before. Matt had been schooling you on laws, mostly getting you to open up about the time something memorable happened, then pointing out what you could or couldn’t be prosecuted for. It was all reckless stupidity or something along that line, nothing serious. 

Just when you were about to catch him in another lie, he took a sharp turn in the conversation after pounding back the last of his drink. “Whoever loses a round, buys a round,” he suggested. Matt nodded his head towards the pool table in the back of the bar, the sounds of patrons playing earlier must have let him know it was there. Otherwise, you would have thought the very reason you had become so infatuated with this man would immediately reveal itself to be a lie.

Maybe it was some kind of joke, a way for him to finally pay you back for adding on to your endlessly accruing tab at Josie’s. If he did win, you’d just ask for the cheapest whatever, whether it was alcoholic or not. It’s not like you needed it anyway with the amount of it in your system as is. Plus, Matt had told you more than enough about his business to assume that it was more of an emotionally stable job rather than a financial one. The way he talked about it made it sound more like his house, where his heart laid the rules. 

The steps taken over to the pool table were sloppy, unsteady. Even Matt careened over, forgoing his walking cane in favoring of letting touch guide him. The tips of his fingers glided atop the bar lightly, adding a bit of confidence to his stride. That was until he ran out of countertop to guide him, and he took each step with caution. He had a bit of faith that you would be following close enough behind to catch him if he stumbled.

Matt felt around the area and picked up the pool stick when his fingers touched the wood. Maple wood—smoothed down and glazed with black tape that was starting to peel at the edges from months, years, of use. He could hear you stomping around the table, setting up the balls in order and with care and placing the cue ball at the end of the table where he stood. Matt already had the stick resting between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.

“I don’t think you can beat me,” Matt said confidently.

“You bet your ass I will.”

“Is anything up for negotiation?” He asked, spreading out his legs and arching his back to get precisely the right angle. Every sense he had told him it was the perfect shot, the one to sink three balls into three separate pockets and start the game off strong. He raised the back of the cue to run along his knuckle with just the right glide through, running it forward just shy of the white ball placed on its marker to practice the motion.

You held onto your pool stick with two hands like a cane with no curve, watching him move. “Yeah, as long as you’re fine with it.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Matt wore a confident facade, only shifting away from that when you accepted his offer. He moved a little to the left, pretending to correct his stance. With a quick snap, the cue ball flew, hitting the alignment head on and effectively doing nothing to increase his points. Each scattered in different directions, like little balls of fire to him, all in different sizes thanks to their color and how they each absorbed light. Not a single ball went into a pocket, and he smirked at how easy it was to achieve failure.

You watched how Matt’s turn went, and readied yourself and a different side of the table, ready to take your turn. Hopefully, this game would go well for you. “Let’s hope I’m not dealing with the devil.”

“He hides in plain sight.” He said casually, mischief tinting his red-lensed glasses.

Matt tried to make it known, moving around to the side of the table you were on for all of his turns. He made to get as close as possible, insisting that it was the “right angle” to take his shot from. In reality, he used it as a way to be in front of you, leg straddling the table’s wooden rail. His knee grazed the green cushioning that lined the surface of the playing area. The alcohol created a tide that washed away any connecting line in the sand that would make sense of how a blind man could play pool. You didn’t even question how he knew where you stood to take your shot without guiding him to it. To Matt’s surprise, even though he had thrown to game to get his desired outcome—to let you have your way with his ass—your coordination wasn’t strong as a drunk. He could have simply watched the game play out and still won, even if he wasn’t playing.

Thankfully, you got the hint on what would have been his winning turn—solid red, number three his senses told him. He stood at the end of the table that looked out to the bar. You came up behind him, cupping his ass as the backside of his dress shirt and belt and fabric struggled to contain him. The ball wasn’t the center of his attention, no, it was you. 

A little devil whispered in his ear, your alluring voice making a bitter crime sound sweet, “Let’s add a crime to be prosecuted for, huh?”

He reached for his tie, clawing at something. His fingers felt the bristle of the scruff on his neck in his quick movements before sliding down to the collar of his shirt. He needed to get the words out that were stuck in his throat, “Like what?”

“You’ll see.” You promised him, backing away from him and kneeling down. Both of your knees hit the hard floor of Josie’s, the layer of scuffs caused by his angular dress shoes and many other’s beneath you. Now, a set of soft, bruising knees like yours had likely never grazed a floor like this. All kinds of bets were made, but this had to be the most unusual.

Your hands made quick work of his belt and pants, pulling his hips back to give room between his buckle and the side of the pool table for your hands to slide into and do what they needed to. He closed that gap when everything was free, pressing his already stiffening cock against the chilled mahogany wood, creating a friction for himself in the front. His hands never left the cue, only tightening on the stick when he felt your presence nearing him.

Keys of coke were snorted and needles percolating with heroine were probably done in the bathroom, but this would be the only line of crack seen in the bar itself. Good people of society, you claimed yourselves as. All of that could have simply been a lie as the addiction to Matt set in. The smell of him radiating in waves like notes of a cologne drew you in. Laundry detergent came in brief hints of a top note that had faded throughout the days wear, replaced quickly by his aromatic cologne. It was cheaply scented with a woody dampness like trees looming in the mist and poppy flowers drooping from weight on their petals—everywhere yet easy to miss as the base notes of everything that made up his smell hit next. The base notes of his smell were the most carnally alluring, that being his musk. Sweat lingered from being trapped in a stuffy office all day, with a brisk walk to the bar adding another layer to it. 

But then, you got a taste of him. It was bland, bitter, and had hints of saltiness to it. With taste comes texture, and Matt’s fuzzy peach had something unlike anything else. He had a devilish combination of smells and textures that kept it interesting. Your lips grazed over his hairy cheeks, feeling the dark hair tickle your chin and surrounding features. The palms of your hands felt it, too, once they peeled him apart to undo his natural layers and uncover where he was sensitive. 

You were able to go deeper, your hands sinking well into his cushy cheeks with more than enough to hold. It made your face feel like it was sinking into his folds while you wedged yourself between him. Your nose was the first thing to meet his crack—just above his hole so that your lips could meet his tightness. You pursed your lips, your tongue filling the space between them that formed and stuck it out. Then, you did the one thing your tongue could do—lick and lick around in circles, stripes, and as many teases as you could think of from his taint to his hole and back.

Matt was in shambles in moments. He had fully leaned over the table, humping against the table and, indirectly, rocking back against your face in a steady rocking motion. He didn’t treat your face like a stranger, but he was completely new to the feeling. Not only because he never really embraced this side of himself, but because it was such a dangerous thing to be caught for. One, two, three—fuck was that the fourth time you had slid your tongue in his hole already? It felt like a blur of repeated motions.

One, two, three, four, he counted. He tried to make sense of how many heartbeats filled the bar, trying to find risk where he could to make this act more devious. The more people could walk around—or hell, even just turn their head—and see him with his pants at his ankles and a hard-on defiling the pool table and a person making his ask feel so good and he moaned; there you go again, making him a mess. He tried looking natural, as if he was taking the worlds longest pool shot. But all it would take is someone sitting on the side of the bar that would cause the bartender to have to look this way for it to be apparent. What did it even look like to someone else? Because to Matt, it felt like he was lying on a green cloud nine, but had he leaned down far enough to expose what you were doing? Anyone could follow the trail along his back and see the top half of your face peeking over his two hairy mounds, ducking and resurfacing in careful movements. His shirt riding up to show off his lower back, too.

He could feel you smirk against him, a soft chuckle as you realized the he lined up a shot that he never took. Matt was too busy letting out soft noises of satisfaction to finish the game.

“Take the shot, Matt.” You breathe out in one non-stop string of syllables. He could feel your hot breath return back to him after parting from his ass. You felt him shift his legs slightly, giving you a better angle to rim him.

He sprawled his hand out on the slate, his other hand shakily slotting the pool stick between his middle and index finger. He stopped finding relief on the table itself, let himself painfully ache as he did what you asked of him. In an almost twist of fate, this was the most ideal spot for him to sink the final ball into one of the six pockets on the table; the corner on the far-right looked the most appealing. Matt bent down, arching his back up and, by virtue of that, offered himself more to you. Your head nodded vigorously to both lick stripes over his hole and quickly slip in and out of his tight hole. The way it felt on your tongue and the way your tongue stretched him was like a perfect storm to throw off his aim. Matt took the shot and missed, the ball ricocheting of the east side of the table and then the north side, slowly rolling into the center.

While he may not have found victory, Matt rapidly found release moments later. He kept the cue in his hands, using the stick as a way to vent his pleasure with a tight grip on both ends. He applied as much pressure as the pleasure you elicited from him. You took the opportunity to reach up and grab ahold of his cock since he had yet to go back to grinding it. Your hand fondled him and jerked his length back and forth as he fell into a rhythm of grinding against your face and your hand. The movement quickened as he felt a welling inside his stomach. His senses told him that he was about to—and he did, shooting ropes along the side of the pooling table and sending them hurling to the ground just a short ways away from ruining his shoes and bunched up boxers as they landed by his feet.

Matt fought the urge to let out a noise, a hint that anything but an irregular pool game was in session. In his bliss, Matt had snapped the pool stick from the pressure he put on both ends. Jagged and sharp pieces of wood poked out of its innards, some of the wood chips scattering themselves over the table. You didn’t even notice it until you stood up, helping Matt affix his pants and belt. 

“Guess we’ll call it a draw?” He asked, pretending as if he wasn’t going to lose the game.

#x male reader #x reader #fanfic #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil x male reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #dd x reader #dd #Charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #pool #billiards

[denim-devil]

Tbh these filthy matt murdock requests are lacking

#male reader #x male reader #matt murdock #daredevil #smut #fluff #angst #HULP

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi fluff

[mordredisacoolname]

MATT MURDOCK X MALE VIGILANTE READER

Headcanons

Y'all I don't know anything about lawyers so don't judge me

CW: mention of being beaten up, tiniest mention of smut but really nothing

------------------------------------------------------------------

-he first heard of you when a witness on the news said someone masked saved her from getting robbed

-he didn't think much of it at first, but it happened again, and he decided to investigate

-matt searched for you for days, focusing and listening

-he almost gave up hope when he finally located you

-you were lying near the dumpster, beaten up with a stab wound and passed out

-he figured out police or hospital won't be good for you, so he called Claire up and asked her for help

-a few hours later you woke up in an unfamiliar place, on a couch, a man sitting opposite of you.

-no. Not a man. The daredevil.

-"good morning" and that was the start of your partnership

-he started teaching you how to fight more properly, how to flee before the police all that stuff

-at first he didn't even think about having a relationship, but the longer you started "hanging out" the closer you became.

-one quiet night you were sitting on a roof, listening to the wind, and people chatting, nothing suspicious

-"so he forgot the papers, and we won another court day"

-you were one of the few people who knew about matt the lawyer and Matt the daredevil

-he trusts you

-you started hanging out more often outside of "work"

-you both enjoyed each other's company, laughing and creating inside jokes

-you even hung up with foggy and Karen a few times, and Karen started getting suspicious

-"so, what going on with you and y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

-you know, you two spend a lot of time together, you seem kinda close"

-this made him think, and question how he feels about you

-how his heart starts beating faster everytime he hears you, how he recognized your smell, how he wants to be with you more, kiss you ..

-next time you met was in his flat, chatting on his couch drinking tea, it was cold outside

-he felt you shiver "are you cold"

-"eh just a little"

-"come here"

-you were surprised, but welcomed the gesture

-you scooched closer and Matt wrapped his hands around you, warmth overcoming you

-at made you feel nervous, being so close to him, and he felt it too

-your heart flutter at his touch

-"can I kiss you" you froze at his ask

"Yes"

-it was a slow gentle kiss, just like him, but quickly becoming more passionate, warming you both up

-finally he could touch you, feel you, make you his

-you started hanging out even more, longer

-he training sessions became much more enjoyable and hot, kinda slowed your progress but it was worth it

-now there was the daredevil if hell's kitchen and his little helper, but you knew, you were much more to him, to matt, than a little helper

#male reader #x male reader #daredevil #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader

[1donoow]

DC REC

PT.1

......

♡ - smut

Most of them are fluff

......

<a/n>i somewhat explain why there's alot in my pin post

Batmom

Batfam

Batsis

Bruce wayne

Tim drake

Dick Grayson

Jason todd

Damian wayne

Garfield logan

Rachel roth

Dc

@myriadimagines - making them breakfast

@gangrenados - the crush state

@thedailyimagines - imagine being the venom host in the dc universe

———————————————————————

Batmom

@ellana-ravenwood - jason todd(ler)

- mama's boy(s)/girl

- is....father drunk?

- each tattoo is a story

- mother's love:bursts of affection

- can you be friend with your husbands ex-girlfriend?

- my mother's apple orchard

- the bat(mom) glare

@xoxo-mylove - missing everything we never had

@reveluving - hugs

@ragingbookdragon - make all the cookies

- GROUNDED

- you're my favorite son

- i have too many children

- i saw it coming when you threw the first punch

@kimberly-spirits13 - batmom with scarlet witch powers

@cipheress-to-k-pop - call mom

@the-daydreaming-show - all of us pt.1

@c-nstantine - milf stuff

- chaperoning

- batmom dying

- fur babies

- ___

———————————————————————

Batfam

@kimberly-spirits13 - how the batfam teacts to dick and jason dating a black widow hc

———————————————————————

Batsis

@headcans-oneshots-and-stuff - being the oldest sibling

@strangeshoepatrolbandit - batfam x batsibling

@book-place - sulking at the gala

- way the cookie crumbles (child!reader)

@ragingbookdragon - talk shit get hit

- Possessive hand holding

- Squishing the other's cheek

- ___

@lazydoodlesandfanfic - little daredevil (blind!batsis)

@andieperrie18 - fine line of bs

@c-nstantine - first kiss

- spoiled!black!batsis

- jason and black!batsis

- cooking kiss (hal jordan)

@remakethestars - being batman's daughter would include

———————————————————————

Bruce wayne

@ellana-ravenwood - can the batman get flustered?

- making bruce wayne blush

@alienguts - lost

@toastedkiwi - reader finding out about damian being bruce's son

- unexpected visitors

@reveluving - ___ ♡

———————————————————————

Tim drake

@kimberly-spirits13 - how you earned the respect of the batfam as tim's s/o

@butwhyduh - tim drake with a praise kink

———————————————————————

Dick Grayson

@moonlit-imagines - watching your favorite shoe with dick

- cuddling with dick

@xu-ren - for good luck

@cipheress-to-k-pop - animal instinct

———————————————————————

Jason todd

@ghostdrafts - ___

@blondwhowrites - dating titan!jason todd

@dragon-chica - jason todd mama's boy appreciation

- batmom and jason thought

@lightwing-s - please don't leave me

———————————————————————

Damian wayne

@current-interest-writings - affection

@ladyagagaslefttoe - cartoons and cuddles (batsis)

@thesuperiorrobin - husband!damian wayne

- who?

- ___

- crazy idea let's make out

- boyfriend!damian wayne

@mattmvrdockbabe - sunglasses

@yandereorg - show stopper

@dragon-chica - i want to see my little boy

@skylwitch - just let me love you, my dear

@gatorbites-imagines - platonic alien male reader x damian wayne

@toastedside - banana toast

@multifandom-of-madness - batfam when they're alone with famous!y/n(damian wayne)

@lilxberry - nightmares (batmom)

———————————————————————

Garfield logan

@cipheress-to-k-pop - dating beast boy would include

@myriadimagines - comforting gar after what he went through with cadmus

@romeulusroy - gar telling conner all about you

- taking the fall for you

@6rookie-writer0110 - romantic headcannon

@catxsnow - believe in you

———————————————————————

Rachel roth

@louscartridge - dating rachel hc

#masterlist #dc rec #batmom #batfam #batsis #bruce wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #garfield logan x reader #rachel roth x reader

[obsessedelusional]

i met y/n in the bathroom

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ AU where Bella isn’t famous, just a regular high school senior. Bella has a fat ass crush on you. Not knowing the feelings are mutual. What happens when you finally gain the confidence to approach Bella? The weed in your system just might be the thing giving you that little push you needed. (alludes to smut)

word count ✦ 1,400ish

authors note ✦ can’t stop listing to I met Sarah in the bathroom by awfultune so I wrote this

masterlist

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Bella is eager to share the most recent development in her life with her life long friend, Riley. They arrived to school earlier than normal, sat at their regular hangout spot. Riley is no where to be seen, Bella nervously taps her leg. Pulling out their phone to shoot their friend a text.

Bella: where are you

“I’m right here.” Riley laughs, startling Bella in the process.

“What’s so important?” Riley asks sitting down next you Bella.

“Alright uh, let me tell you the story.” Bella begins.

“You know the party I went to last night?”

“The one you swore you wouldn’t be caught dead at, that one?” Riley ask, with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah that one.” Bella smiles a cheesy grin.

“I may have had a moment with a girl, a really cute girl.”

—

The Party

“Live a little, drink! Let loose!” Bella’s closest male friend Justin demands, already a little tipsy. Passing a drink to Bella, she takes it and pretends to take a sip.

“Finally!” He belches before leaving Bella alone is the sea of people. She lets out an annoyed sigh before taking a seat at an empty couch. Pulling out their phone, full of regret for even agreeing to show up. It never failed when she tagged along on one of Justin’s many escapades, they always got left alone as Justin went off to socialize. Bella continued to show up for Justin in the hopes to get a glimpse of you.

The loud sound of laughter causes Bella to look up from their phone. There you are, throwing Justin into a hug. While still in Justin’s embrace, you look over to Bella’s way. Smiling and sending a small wave their way, Bella smiles before going back to their phone. Too afraid to continue the eye contact.

Bella cursed them self for being so damn shy. She admired you because you were a daredevil. They admired you for a whole list of reasons. In Bella’s eyes your were gorgeous. Always dressed so well and makeup so extra, she loved everything about you.

Tonight no different, you were wearing a pink dress that hugged your curves perfectly. The dress has a cut out right under your breast, perfectly exposing the skin there. Pink colorful eyeshadow on you eyelids, your makeup always matched your fit. Tonight little sparkly butterfly clips placed strategically in your hair. Bella loved seeing what you came up with every day. Too frightened by the tiny crush that had been inside them for so long, to compliment you.

To Bella’s surprise, you walked over to where they sat. Plopping down right next to them. Resting your tired head on their shoulder. You weren’t that tired until you smoked, the green nearly knocking you out.

“Surprised to see you here.” You say, looking up at Bella who’s trying their best to act natural.

“Uh… yeah Justin basically begged me.” They say, attention on their phone. Internally they’re freaking the fuck out.

“Why aren’t we closer?” You ask, Bella looks down at you taken a back by your question.

“I mean like I’m friends with Justin. Your Justin’s friend. That basically makes us friends, right?” Your high ass ask.

“I guess so.” Bella responds, timidly.

“Bella. Ya know, I really like hanging out with you.” You speak just loud enough for Bella to hear. Saying everything but what you actually want to say.

“Aww I like hanging out with you too.” Bella says, partially confused. You guys never really hung out before. Yeah you were always around when Justin was around but that was about the extent of your relationship. Your high ass laughs out loud, falling into Bella again.

“I think I really wanna kiss ya,” you say even quieter than before. Finally mustering up the courage to say what’s been heavy on your mind. Biting your lip in anticipation for their response.

“Wait, really?” Bella asks, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to scare you.” You sigh, getting ready to leave Bella sat alone one the couch.

“Na, it’s cool.” She responds bringing a smile to your face. You stand up, intertwining your fingers with there fingers. You motion for them to stand up, Bella does just that. She’d do anything you’d ask of her. You lead Bella to the nearest bathroom, thankfully it’s empty. You guide Bella in, locking the door behind yourself. No one daring enough to turn the lights on. The only light is coming in through the small window. The moonlight illuminates Bella’s features beautifully.

“Can I?” You ask, Bella nods to afraid to speak and possibly ruin the moment. You move closer, pushing Bella into the wall. You kiss Bella affectionately which quickly turns more frantic when they begin kissing you back. Your hands find their way to Bella’s who doesn’t know what to do with their own. Leading their hands to your chest, letting them explore your body.

“Are you sure?” Bella asks, looking up at you. You were a few inches taller then Bella. The sight of them looking up at you like that, driving you absolutely insane.

“This is kinda crazy.” They say, actively trying to catch their breath. Hands still fumbling with your dress, finding their way to skin exposed by the cutout on your dress.

“I just really wanna… I don’t want to take it slow.” You respond, staring straight into Bella’s dark orbs. Attempting to read their face to find a reaction.

“If you want to stop I’ll stop. I don’t want to stop.” Bella smiles knowing with a face like yours so close to theirs, they can’t say no. They don’t want to say no.

“I want to.” Bella says, before smashing her lips into yours. Kissing you more deep this time, hands finally reaching under the thin fabric of your dress to caress your sensitive peaks.

—

“There’s so way you hooked up with her.” Riley laughs, not believing Bella in the slightest.

“She’s not even gay.”

“Explain this then.” Bella lowers the collar of their shirt exposing the hickey you left on their skin.

“That could be anything.” Riley half laughs still not believing.

“Where did you go last night? I tried calling you snd texting you like a million times.” Justin asks, sitting next to Bella. Bella shoots a look at Riley that says don’t say anything. But Riley says everything, all the time. Bella shouldn’t expect any less at this point.

“Apparently she was too busy hooking up with Y/N. Even got a love bite to prove it.” She teases.

“Makes sense.” Justin says, confusing them.

“You believe them, really?”

“Yeah. I may have told Y/N some things a while back.” Justin explains.

“Things?” Bella asks concerned.

“Yeah she told me she thought she was a lesbian. So I was like omg I know a lesbian and maybe have unintentionally outed you to her.” He further explains.

“Since then she’s always asking about you. Begging me to bring you everywhere with me. I thought maybe she liked you, I was right!” Justin says proud of himself.

“You’re welcome.” He says before leaving Riley and Bella alone. Bella trying desperately to understand all the information thrown at them. Today was fucked, there was no way Bella was gonna be a functioning student today. You had stolen Bella’s phone last night and texted you self so you could have their number. Your phone number was burning a hole in their pocket, desperately wanting to message you. Deciding in the end, it’s too risky.

At lunch they sat alone, waiting for Riley to arrive any second. Only for you to be the one to occupy the space next to them.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” Bella speaks softly.

“About last night…” Bella feels like she knows exactly where this going, she’s not ready for the heartbreak.

“If you regret-“

“I don’t regret what happened. Can I finish?” You ask to which Bella nods yes.

“I like you like a lot a lot and I don’t really know what to do with that information. So I was thinking maybe we could be more than friends?” You further explain, talking to Bella but not daring to look at their face. You watch Bella’s hands instead, as they fidget with the rings on their fingers. Trying your best not think about where those hands were last night, getting flustered at the memory.

“Are you asking-“

“Yes I am, okay?” You interrupt.

“Yeah I think I can make that work.” They tease causing you to roll your eyes. You playfully shove Bella before placing a sweet kiss on their lips.

“So she wasn’t lying, wow.” Riley speaks interrupting your moment with Bella. Bella only flips Riley off before falling into your embrace, kissing you again.

#bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey oneshot #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey pov #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey #Bella Ramsey tlou #tlou #the last of us

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS (TEMP) CLOSED !

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. I find them kind of weird for me to write so my fics are mostly 1st Person POV. I write most of my fics based off on Fixations that may last a couple weeks, months, years. If you've requested something but havent seen the fic, that might be because i've lost interest!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST! Or, characters I will definitely write about if requested!

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

Tim Rockford (yes from the Ad)

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

MARVEL & XMCU

Miguel O'hara (ATSV)

Hobie Brown (Platonic/fluff only)

Pavitr Prabhakar (Platonic/fluff only)

Kurt Wagner (xmcu)

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Moon Knight System

Deadpool

Daredevil

Eddie and Venom (They come as a pair)

BULLET TRAIN

Tangerine

Ladybug

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

#male reader #x male reader #gender neutral reader #writing requests #for my dudes and no genders ! #robert bob floyd x male! eader #robert bob floyd x gn!reader #jake hangman x male reader #jake hangman x gn!reader #bradley rooster x male reader #kurt wagner x male reader #loki laufeyson x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #moon knight system x male reader #deadpool x male reader #symbrock x male reader #tangerine x male reader #ladybug x male reader #hannibal x male reader #ezra prospect x m!reader #joel miller x male reader #agent whiskey x male reader #javi gutierrez x male reader #leon s kennedy x male reader #luis serra x male reader #Gojo x male reader #Satoru x male reader #sukuna x male reader #higuruma x male reader #nanami x male reader

[iznsfw]

kep1er Yujin please?

Fuck First, Study Second

Kinktober 2022 Week 1 - Uniform Sex

Kep1er's Choi Yujin x Male Reader Smut

4,838 words

Categories | sneakyboyfriend!Reader, student!Yujin, blowjob, easy access, riding, creampie, fingering, clothed sex, climbing houses (???) a pun at the end that's so fucking corny but it made me laugh so hard I had to include it

You might be asking, "Iz! You said you weren't gonna do Kinktober! What the fuck is this?"

Well here's my answer. I wanted to get back into writing and try out something new: consistency. Shocking, I know. Only in my version of Kinktober, it's done weekly instead of daily. So consider this my first ever Kinktober piece.

A pebble at her window wasn't enough to break Choi Yujin out of her study-induced trance. It was expected; once Yujin set her mind to revising—solving mathematical equations she once couldn't wrap her head around, or analyzing formulas that, with the last year of high school, have become excruciatingly difficult—there was no stopping her. And not even a large stone henge tossed at her room can snap her out of it.

So you have to resort to the classic Romeo type of surprise: climbing her house. Like some goddamned cliché desperado in chick flicks trying to impress the newbie girl. Or something like that.

If one were to put things into perspective, the comparison isn't far off. You are one of the best athletes at Kepler High. Despite the school being named after one of science's greatest role models and therefore focusing on the variant subjects of it, you had always leaned towards the basketball court. It's not that you were a hunk or anything. You are just infinitely better at sports rather than writing, which Yujin, being your polar opposite, excelled at. While she wrote essays and defense papers, you were out in the court playing with the rest of the varsity team.

So it isn't too difficult to cling to the thin pillar holding up the porch roof, and slither your way upwards like a snake. At least, not as difficult as it would be for kids who never exercise. In this situation in which they would normally be out of breath, you are still quite active, gripping the pillar like a koala to a branch. In the part where they would refuse to even climb a house, you are doing the opposite. That's probably why Yujin is a better student than you; she never gets into this type of trouble.

The lights of the first floor and every room in the second and last are shut, except Yujin's, despite the late time. She is studying for her finals the best she can, and being her boyfriend, you know she'd study her heart out till five. You think of how boring that must be as you try to lighten your steps on the roof to avoid the creaking, but of course there are still inevitable sounds. They are softer, though. Much softer than your cock is, the very thing that drove you to walk all the way to your girlfriend's house and give her a "present."

The darkness is the friend of your black sweater. You camouflage into the night naturally. You blend in so well that if her parents looked out the window to inspect the sounds, they'd think that they are being caused by another rowdy black cat. Praise yourself for thinking of wearing all black, and prepare another internal compliment to be able to walk across the thin edges to Yujin's window.

This is the part where you begin to get a little scared.

Climbing a house in the night is one thing, but crossing the edges lining the box-shaped building? That's another level that even your daredevil personality won't rank up to unless it's a matter of great importance that most likely won't happen out of the blue, like rescuing important documents or retrieving a cat lost in a fire.

You pause and consider your options. You can stop this and go home with blue balls and scraped knees, or you can continue doing this. However, the grass is greener on the downer side. One wrong move, it's going to be splattered red.

Think, dumbass, think.

Your decision is seen in the way you take a deep breath, holding on to the first window frame for balance, then step forward.

Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down—

Of course, you look down anyway.

Jesus fucking Christ, you curse, as you almost slip and fall off. The edges of your sneakers are barely holding on to the thin and short floor you're navigating. You swear that it isn't too high from the ground when you originally thought out the plan.

Going to Yujin's window, which is not far from the porch roof, is going to be harder than you thought. This is what horniness does to a motherfucker.

Press yourself against the outside wall of the house to calm yourself down. You can't bring yourself to close your eyes because you are afraid that putting your guard down will lead to scary consequences: Yujin's parents looking out from their own bedroom window and screaming their heads off, a neighbor spotting you climbing their house, or worse, some killjoy calling the police and erase any chances of you getting into a good college forever.

That's not going to happen. No, it won't. You will get to Yujin's window and get what you came for.

You are inching closer and closer to your beloved's bedroom, although your legs still tremble. You can't give up just now.

You are almost there. Just one more brave step. Just one more.

You are clinging to the wing-like structure of the mini window roof, comfortably setting your feet down on the table.

You are knocking on her window.

You are finally here.

Yujin is inside, lying on her bed with her stomach down and fingers pacing on the keyboard of the laptop she got for her nineteenth birthday. She is wearing a blue sweater, which you recognize as yours, and the plaid yellow skirt from school. It's late at night, yet she is still wide awake. Her bright eyes read the text material on her laptop screen, studying every detail and date there is that will be mentioned in the tests.

Knock your hand against the glass. She doesn't look up. Rap your knuckles four times a little more urgently, and she finally breaks out of her trance and directs her attention to her window.

At first, her eyes widen. She's suddenly afraid. Who is this guy? Why is he here? And why does he look—

But she recognizes your face after those few rapid-fire questions settle down. That is when her face changes to an expression of delight and shock. It remains on her as she leaps up from her bed and rushes to her window to open it.

"Oppa!" Yujin says. She's a smart girl; her tone is hushed to avoid her parents from waking up and she's carefully helping you inside to prevent you from (1) catching a cold and (2) looking stupid standing outside of her room. You step inside gladly. "What are you doing here?"

You hug her tightly. "Nice to see you too, Yujinie. Nice house," you add, although you've been here before a thousand times in the course of your three-year-old relationship, in secret and not.

She rolls her eyes. "Cute."

"Thanks, love."

"Don't love me," scolds Yujin, shoving you in the chest. She looks at her bedroom door fearfully to check if it's locked. It is; the circular contraption is shoved inwards. The fear in her heart still rages, though. "You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see my baby, of course," you say to her. Pinch her cheek to prove your innocence."I figured she would need a little help for her finals?"

That's a lie. Yujin never needs a tutor for studying, much less her boyfriend who is a dumbass at writing. She can understand anything after just a few moments of reading. So, she sees right through your falsehood, as if she were wearing 3D glasses that made everyone's words transparent.

She narrows her eyes at you. "That's not why," she informs you. "Tell me what you're really here for."

Choi Yujin is annoyance personified. She's crossed her arms over her sweater, scrunched her eyebrows at you, while tapping her shoe expectantly on the carpeted floor. She's very serious about her education, and if something distracts her from it purposely, she will find out why they dared to, whether they like it or not.

You really wanted this to be a little softer at first. Maybe some sweet foreplay then a nice pounding into Yujin's bed. But no, she's furious, and you are sexually frustrated. And when two very different people meet and try to interact with these slightly different emotions, the outcome usually isn't rainbows and sunshine.

"Well, for one, these fucking earmuffs—"

—Yujin gasps as you take her roughly by the waist by one hand, and grope her slim thighs with the other, urging them apart—

"—this pretty neck—"

—your teeth dig into Yujin's pale skin, evoking a gaspy moan out of her—

"—and this tight cunt."

With no warning whatsoever, your fingers swiftly slide themselves inside her, pushing aside her underwear. Yujin's knees buckle, and she has to hold on to your sides to keep herself standing. And even with your body to support her, she remains atremble.

As expected, Yujin is tight as ever. Your fingers have to spread and fight to even be able to fill her up. She shifts and whines as you do so, biting down on her lip to let the initial pleasure reap through her.

Her tension does not mean she doesn't like it though. Look down and Yujin is circling her hips onto your fingers, filling herself up again and again, while her moans that she is so desperate to keep quiet reach your ears in the form of rough, husky sounds. You rub your fingertips at the velvety tight walls and smirk when they are met with a rush of wetness.

Yujin lets out a series of whimpers. Closing her eyes, she makes a quivering sigh. "God, okay," she whispers. Inside, she's euphoric because of your busy fingers, but she is also wondering why the hell she's so weak for your touch. She's never been like this around her exes! "I-I'll give it to you. All of it. I needed a break anyway."

"Thanks, babe." You reward her by kissing her on the lips, and of course, by fucking her snatch harder. She is so utterly tight, it's actually delicious. Just looking at her thighs wrapped in her lengthy socks press together to bear the first impact of your initiation is like a taste of heaven. "I owe you one."

"You owe me a lot, actually," she corrects you breathily. She's constantly on her toes because of your finger-fucking. "Seriously, what were you thinking? If you wake him up, my dad can just elimimate you from the face of the—"

"Shhhh."

You start kissing Yujin like crazy. Her hips are constantly convulsing on your hand at the added sensation of your tongue lapping at her lips. The two of you are so wrapped up in each other, so drunk in one another's touch, that Yujin actually knocking into one of the autumn-themed wallpapers comes as a sobering surprise.

"Ow," says Yujin. "Let's take this to the bed, shall we? Can't have you fucking me against these walls."

Well, that's disappointing. "You can, actually," you propose, raising your eyebrows and quirking them at her. But you take away your fingers from inside her and let her push you to her bed. Your back lands on a soft cloud-like mattress, complete with fluffy pillows and a teddy bear, which you turn your gaze to. "Or did you just want me to see this teddy bear?"

The pink teddy bear sits beside you with stitched eyes and a threaded smile. You can't remember if you were the one who gifted it to her or if it was her mom.

Yujin rolls her eyes while she undoes your jeans. "Why the fuck would a teddy bear play such importance in me wishing to have sex the classic way?"

There she is again with her textbook way of speaking. It's endearing, sure, but sometimes you wonder if that's the result of too much studying. Sure, after prioritizing education, one comes out as smart and knowledgeable, but maybe they also get out of school unable to speak casually.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you rub yourself off on it when I'm gone."

"Oppa!" Yujin is surprised at your obscenity, even if you are literally about to have sex with her. Not to mention your rock-hard cock standing freely now that your bottoms are unzipped. Her blush is deep and bright.

"What? Come on. We all have those needs, Yujin. Why do you think I climbed a house for you? Maybe... just maybe, you ride this teddy bear. Tell him all your wants and needs that can't be fulfilled because I'm away."

It's the usual teasing between you and Yujin, but then her blush gives away something else. Something that says there is some truth in your words. That she does do that when you're gone.

"Oh, don't tell me you actually—" You are cut off by your own moan due to Yujin jerking you off with her tiny hand.

"First of all, she's a she," Yujin informs you. She remains narrow-eyed as ever as she jacks you off, circling her tongue around your head. "Her name is Betty."

"Ooh, didn't know you went both ways, Yujinie. Not that I have a problem with it, you know. I always saw you and Seungyeon and thought there was something between the two of you."

"Learn to shut up sometimes, okay?"

Yujin returns eye for eye, or rather, mouth for mouth. She laps at the underside of your cock, knowing it's one of your most sensitive parts, and licks at it sharply with only the tip of her tongue. You gasp loudly in response. Remembering Yujin's parents are only two rooms away, you bite your lip to keep quiet.

Yujin kisses your cock all over, peppering it with her chapstick-glossed lips. She makes sure to observe your expressions the whole time, verifying if you like what she's doing or not. You quiver at her licking your balls, and you have to resist grabbing her by her dark hair and downing her on your dick. All the foreplay is making you feel too hot. Damn Yujin and her talented mouth. Damn her for being too pretty and too kind.

Yujin is not an inexperienced girl. She knows how to suck a mean dick, and it shows a lot. She rubs your balls and effortlessly takes in the whole of your shaft, alternating in between breathing through her nose and through her mouth to puff hot breath on your cock. Whenever your head knocks the back of her throat, you groan pleasurably. Your hips start jerking by themselves when Yujin deepthroats you. Like her pussy, her throat is slick and tight. It constricts around you like cuffs. If you were in charge of everything, you'd take the keys to those "cuffs" and swallow it so you can stay in Yujin's mouth forever.

The tip is her favorite part. She teases her tongue on the underside of the mushroom-shaped tip. Her eyelids flirtatiously flutter at you, innocently and teasingly, as if she doesn't know the impact of that almost subtle action.

One active lick almost makes you cum. "Oh fuck, Yujin!" you cry out. Her innocent face isn't pure enough to hide her smirk, or the evil desires in her eyes which she performs: downing your cock all in one go repeatedly, licking and lapping whenever her tongue can, and sucking your tip like it were a straw.

The precum is good enough juice. "You wanna cum on my face," Yujin asks you, showing the white on her tongue, "or would you rather my pussy instead?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Hmph. Fine. Let me give you a sample.

"Do you want this?"

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, as Yujin's tongue dances on your cock yet again, rubbing the right spots and licking the best places.

"Or is this better?"

Suddenly, she straddles you. Her panties tugged sideways, she teases her pussy on your dick. Never letting it directly penetrate her, she simply rubs herself on the head, making it stimulate her hard clitoris and spread her pink outer lips. She purses her lips and lets out a soft "Mmm!"

"Shit... Yujin, just ride me."

She nods sympathetically, but not without confirming, "Final answer?"

"Yes. God, yes. Fuck!"

Your swear jar is almost as full as Yujin is. She sits down completely on your rod. It pierces her insides in the best way possible. It's hard to keep up her dominant façade when it's just so perfectly big inside her. The guise becomes slightly transparent because of her delicious hiss of pleasure, and the silent plead you almost hear leaving her lips.

Yujin is entrancing, in every way there is. Every move of hers, though calculated to bring pleasure to both sides, seems natural. Her mouth falls open slightly to the heavenly sensation of your penis rubbing at her sensitive spots. Her hips sway sideways, as if she were dancing instead of riding you, and sometimes they rotate. Each direction brings the same pleasure but at a different height. Yujin's wetness is simply lube for it all.

It's like a wet dream come true, when Yujin lifts herself in the air, leaving your head barely inside, then slams back down on you, filling herself up again. "Oh!" she exclaims, eyes wide. Her cunt seals around you strictly to keep you in place.  "You're so big, oppa."

"And you're so fucking hot." Your mind is only filled with Yujin in her uniform mounting you again and again. The way her skirt bounces and so do her subtle tits through her sweater make you crazy. How can a girl be so perfect and be yours?

Yujin humps your cock at a velocity that isn't too fast, but isn't too slow either. It's the perfect pace to appreciate the snugness of her cunt, on your side. On Yujin's, it's to let your cock veins rub a certain place inside her. That need is so constantly met that her expression is orgasmic, even if it has barely started yet.

The routine of her hips and the jiggle of her thighs in the process are dizzying. Tight as she may be, she relaxes her walls enough to let the rest of you inside her. She lets out a shuddering sob once it has completely filled her up. Her voice sounds higher now, almost at the note she reaches that makes her choir's harmonies perfection. Little did her choir teacher know how much bigger her range actually is when your cock is around.

Her hole involuntarily tenses and releases around your dick. "Hmph... haaah. Does that feel good?"

You are unable to focus on what she's saying. Yujin's cunt leaking and quivering is distracting you from makimg a decent answer. Luckily, there's no need for you to answer in words. Just your red face is enough to make Yujin smile her signature wholesome grin that is the very thing that made you fall in love with her.

Yujin's grinding eventually makes her frustrated. Yes, it feels good, and it is very pleasurable foreplay. But she's already so wet. She doesn't have time for anything else.

Yujin clenches around you as tightly as she can and resorts to rough and fast riding. "Hngghaaah!" she squeals, gathering your shirt in fistful balls. "This... feels... so much better—!"

Yujin can't keep up her tough façade any more than you can maintain your indifferent one. There's too many parts about this whole thing that make yout desires as transparent as day. For one, there's the size difference between Yujin and your cock is incredibly arousing. You have no idea how such a tiny body can take so much energy into doing this.  When she bounces on your stick like the bunny she is, her skirt flies up, and you catch a glimpse of how much your cock is stretching her. Even with how tight she squeezes, it manages to pierce through the strictness of her cunt and hit her cervix. For some this action is painful, but for Yujin, it's everything but.

And another thing that just contributes to the deliciousness of it all are Yujin's wails of delight.

"Yes yes yes, yes!" she screams loudly when you take her by the hips and start slamming her onto you. Exhaustion accents her bounce, but you hold it off by thrusting her onto you like a doll. "Keep fucking me, oppa! Keep fucking me so hard I can't walk properly to school!"

That statement turns you on even more. Yujin is someone that by now you are aware won't even take a joke about her learning. Hearing her make such a bold statement, to indirectly say that school isn't that important when you are around, works you up so much.

Yujin is as light as a feather. Her extracurricular dancing activities basically guarantee that. So it isn't a big problem for you to suddenly stand up, your hands still wrapped around her sides and hips still diligently pounding her, then switch the positions.

Yujin is now on the bed instead of you. From here, you can see her cute face contorted into an expression of bewildered pleasure. Her legs are splayed far apart so that you can see her tiny pussy, and how your cock is spreading it to its limits.

But you don't care if you are too big for her. You're here to do specifically what she said: to fuck her so hard her legs give out on the way to school.

Holding her legs high in the air, you fuck her cunt like an animal. In this missionary position, it feels deeper, and ten times better. Yujin still wants more though; she inches her delightful cunt closer to your approaching and exiting shaft just to feel it stab her leaking lips even more. Her screams are as loud as the sound of slapping.

"Fuck! Give it to me, oppa!" Yujin's falsetto pleads deafen your ears. But you still take her as hard as you can. Your hands squeeze and caress her thighs while you lean down to coax Yujin into a deep kiss in an attempt to hush her down.  After all, her parents are still in the house. In a drunken trance, Yujin obliges happily. Somehow, the kiss amplifies the experience even more, especially with how delicious Yujin's mouth is and how good of a kisser she is.

Her beautiful bed is ruined with her juices. If the teddy bear sitting across you were alive, it would have been greatly traumatized. But these are all factors that you dismiss. Your mind is too wrapped around Yujin furiously making out with you. Even when you pull her closer by her thighs to shorten the path to her juicy cunt, her hands remain on the sides of your head. They also tug you closer so she can feel your tongue deliciously swiping at her jaw and mouth. What was supposed to be a deep French kiss to quiet her down became a series of laps and smooches on her cheeks and neck. They do the opposite of making her quiet. They make Yujin feral.

"Hmmmm, mmm!" Her broken hums are like subliminals designed to make you want her even more. And if they are, you're pretty sure they're working. "Fuck, I'm close... don't stop!"

Finally, that's one thing you are asked of that you can do excellently. If you can't help Yujin out with her exams, then you can simply assist her in her carnal needs.

She does the same, too, without realizing it. The reason why you keep blushing around her at school is not just because of her prettiness alone, but that cursed uniform. It's been a kink you've tried to hide for so long, but now you let it all out. Besides, the fantasies you've had of fucking her while she wears it have finally come true. Maybe the house climbing risk is worth something after all.

Sex with Yujin is not frequent, but it isn't so seldome either. So throughout the times you found in your days to make love to her, you learned how to bring her there. It's a simple method: although one would think to go faster, you must stay at the same pace, applying more force in your movements. Then, you have to tease your thumb over the glistening little pear above her slit, and rub it up and down. All this you do, bringing Yujin's legs together at your back as she tries to get you closer. Her screams are becoming more insatiable than ever.

As you count down the thrusts that will lead to her orgasm, you lean down and snarl at Yujin, asking her, "Come on, Yujinie, aren't you afraid your parents will hear me fucking you? And they'll come here and ask us what we're doing?"

Your face being too close flusters Yujin. It adds to the redness in her face from the rough sex. Wide half-moon eyes staring up into you, she fires you a smile that is so sweet and innocent in the midst of your clashing sexes, and says: "I don't fucking care. If you're too pussy to do it with them, then just tell me."

That stuns you. Yujin has never dared you like that before. She's too sweet and kind to even playfully make dark jokes like you do. But now, with her menacing but attractive smile blinding your eyes, you take that as an opportunity to show why she should never even think of doubting you. Definitely not in the thing you do best.

Yujin is a smart girl. You're not so bad yourself, so you know exactly what she's doing. She's doing all this to get what she wants, which is her own orgasm. She's purposely riling you up solely to reach her high.

You know that, but you find yourself devouring her neck nest. You find yourself drowning in her screams and the goddamned uniform she looks so hot in. You find yourself fucking her harder, forgetting the classic method or her stupid old parents, reaching under her sweatshirt and pinching her tiny sensitive nipples. Her scream is the equivalent of fresh cold water in a desert. Maybe it is the desert's blistering sun that has surreptitiously melted all common sense and logic melts from your mind the way it always does when you're screwing Yujin, but each time it still feels like heaven. No, not heaven—somewhere in between heaven and hell. As if you were crossing on thin ice with a large smile on your face.

Your groans drown out your thoughts and leave room only for Yujin. Who wouldn't be drowning in her right now? Just simply looking at her, seeing her own adorable smile is gone and that she's losing herself, too, is enough to make you submerge yourself in the sea of pillows again to kiss her. They drive loud yells out of her that increase in stuttering volume. You hear the most deafening one when your angry thrusts are attemped to be paused by her cunt suddenly contracting.

"F-fuck, Yujin!" Shove your hips upwards and slam her to the wall her bed stands beside, which is luckily filled with more pillows. "Since when did you get so naughty?"

"Hunghhh, I don't know. When..." Choi Yujin isn't able to finish her sentence. The straight-A schoolgirl everyone knows and loves has erupted in your arms with a final yelp. With her plaid skirt hiked up to her stomach, you can perfectly see how you creampied her so well. You let out more than you thought.

As pretty as the view of Yujin's creampied cunt is, you suddenly remember something. The panic begins to rise in you. "Yujin, are you—"

"No, I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm kidding, silly," she answers. Her smile is so full of sunshine that one can forget she joked about you unknowingly impregnating her. "Of course I took the pill. I even shaved for you."

A surge of relief reaches your nerve-filled shore. It is only now that you notice her hairless patch. But observing it just brings you another question:

"Wait, so you knew I was going to come here to fuck you all along?"

Yujin smiled up at you and raises both her hands up dismissively. "I don't know~ I guess you'll have to find that out for yourself."

You would have. You really would have thrown a thousand and one more questions at her just to investigate a clue to what her truthful answer may be. You would have teased her and pleaded her to tell you more. All those things will now only remain as "would"s due to Yujin's concerned father standing at the door of his daughter's room, whom he has just now discovered is not as good as he thought she was.

"Waaa! Dada, what are you doing here?" is the last thing that reaches your ears.

#kpop smut #clc #clc smut #kepler smut #kepler #kep1er #kep1er smut #choi yujin #choi yujin smut #yujin #yujin smut #male reader #reader insert #request #x reader

[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

#Masterlist

[hellsburners]

pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

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 :>

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut #punisher smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle x male reader #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle x male reader smut #punisher x reader smut

[deceitfuldevil]

No Sympathy for the Devil

Matt Murdock X Reader

Summary: Matt had been paying very little attention to you lately, and was always showing up to work bloody and bruised from a night full of vigilante activities. He never even came home in the evenings anymore, just went straight to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. You were tired of this, frustrated he wasn’t coming home to please you every night. So despite a mutual agreement to not be overly affectionate with each other at work, you give Matt a taste of what he’s missing. You leave him high and dry, assuring him that he could make up for his recent absence in the evening. But Matt wasn’t one to negotiate like that, and you were going to pay.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), AFAB reader, mentions of blood and bruises, established relationship, orgasm denial, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, teasing, verbal degradation, pet names (sweetheart, darling. . . whore), swearing, p in v sex, penatration, choking, just so much flith.

Word Count: 2.3K

As of late, Matt had been a little too involved with his nightly daredevil activities and not involved enough with work; and barely involved with you at all. This frustrated you, hell it frustrated Foggy and Karen too because Matt had promised them he could balance his work life with his viligate duties. Now he was leaving straight for the streets straight after work, and only coming home maybe an hour before you woke up to change into a new suit. Foggy noticed new bruises every day, Karen inconspicuously wiped blood off the back of his head when he was speaking to clients.

It was the worst for you. In order to maintain some level of professionalism you acted only as what you were hired for, an office assistant. Even if you had been seeing Matt for months now and were even living with him, you both agreed it wouldn't be appropriate to show your relationship in front of clients. So you were proper and polite during the day, fulfilling your job expectations for Karen, Matt, and Foggy. You always eagerly awaited the evenings when the work day was through and you could come home to Matt and be your loving self with him. But you weren’t getting those nights anyone, all you got was sleepless nights and dissatisfying orgasms from trying to please yourself half as good as Matt did.

You decided if Matt wasn’t going to change his ways and see how his actions were affecting others, you’d show him. Oh no no no, you’d tease him, give him a reason to come home.

You decided to show up to work commando, knowing Matt would be the only one to notice. A short pencil skirt and silk blouse, something he would enjoy running his fingers over. You were teasing him, trailing around him all day. When Foggy and Karen said they were going out to lunch and offered for Matt to join them he was about to say yes when you came in front of him and palmed him through his slacks and whispered “stay here.”

Matt took a deep gulp and shakily announced that he would be staying back. Foggy and Karen bid their goodbyes and went on their way. As soon as you heard the door click shut you backed Matt into his office chair and propped yourself up on his desk. Spreading your legs wide you took Matt’s hand in yours and guided it to your uncovered heat. He let out a silent moan feeling your slick wetness that was starting to pool on his desk.

“You know how much I admire you, Matty?” You asked, your free hand coming to his chin and staring into his red lenses. Matt just nodded subtly as you helped him dip two fingers into your entrance.

“I admire your everlasting search for the good in people, and the undying fight against everyone who’s done nothing but bad. You’re so good Matty.” You praised with an affectionate voice. Matt’s hands started to move on their accord as he pumped his rough fingers in and out of you.

“What I don’t admire is when you leave me sitting all alone at night, waiting for you to come home.” You said, causing Matt’s fingers to come to a halt.

“I get lonely, Matthew. I also worry, I miss you late at night. You know, I’m surprised you don’t hear my moans when I’m desperately trying to use my own fingers to fuck myself half as good as you do.” You confessed, a considerable tent growing in Matt’s boxers.

“Y/n I—”

“Ah ah” you stopped Matt’s attempts to apologize for his absence.

“You will make up for all this tonight…” you started, taking Matt’s wrist and pulling his soaked fingers out of your cunt. You tried to not whine at the loss of contact, bringing his fingers to your lips and licking yourself off of them. “Understood?” You said, closing your legs and hopping off Matt's desk. But he grabbed your wrist without looking at you and said. “You know I don’t like negotiations, sweetheart.” Matt said with a warning tone.

“You negotiate for a living Matty, don’t lie to me.” You said, pressing a chasté kiss to his lips and making your way to the door of his office. “I’ll see you tonight, Matthew.” You with an authoritative tone, like it was an order. You shut the door behind you with a smile and exited the office announcing you’d be taking a half day when you met up with Karen and Foggy at the bottom of the stairwell.

Despite how things went down at the office, Matt was the one ordering you around by the time he got home.

You were sitting peacefully on the couch in an old dress shirt of Matt’s just waiting for him, and when he came home he brought hell with him. He stood in front of you still clad in his work suit, tossing his cane aside.

“On your knees, now sweetheart.” Matt said, voice firm and deep with lust. You sat there, shocked for a second; a second too long apparently.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Matt said, promoting you to fall to your knees. “Good girl.” Matt said running a hand through your hair, but then once he had your hair bundled into a ponytail he harshly tugged in it causing a moan to squeak out of you.

“Now suck me off.” He ordered, and you were in no place not to comply. You knew what Matt was doing, asserting dominance. He may have liked your little show back at the office but he needed you to understand that he was in control. But that’s exactly what you wanted, for Matt to exert his entire control over you.

You hastily unbuckled Matt’s belt and pulled down his slacks. He was already at half mast by the time you got his boxers off. Matt stood still, patiently waiting for you to start. You took his impressive length in your hands and started to pump, looking up to Matt to see his reaction but there was nothing. You could’ve been sucking off his ear for all the emotion he was showing.

This only furthered your desire to please him, to fulfill his orders. You licked a bold stripe up the underside of his proud cock, but not even a slight gasp fell from his lips. You doubled down in your efforts, swirling your tongue around his tip and deep throating him to the point that tears began to form in your eyes. You sucked and gagged until you barely started to hear Matt choke up on the air around him. This encouraged your efforts until Matt tighten his fist in your hair again and pull your mouth off of his throbbing cock.

“Your dirty mouth doesn’t deserve to taste my cum, not with the way you bossed me around today.” Matt said, keeping your neck stretched as your jaw stayed slack after sucking him off. “Say it.” Matt ordered “say that you have a dirty mouth.” He added.

“I have a dirty mouth.” You admitted.

“And?” Matt prompted, he didn’t say what he wanted you to admit but you know what he was asking for. The same thing he always made you say, the thing that for you weak at the knees every time you said it.

“And I’m your little whore.” You furthered on, it’s a good thing you were already on your knees. “That’s right, good girl. Now go to the bedroom, missionary.” He ordered, making you think twice. Missionary wasn’t his go-to when he was being rough, it was always doggy or cowgirl. Missionary was for when he wanted to be sweet and savor the moment with you.

“Missionary?” You asked.

“Yes, and don’t make me think twice about it.” Matt barked, making you scurry to your feet and rush to the bedroom. You stripped yourself of your clothes and awaited Matt patiently on the bed. He walked in the bedroom stark naked with his cock standing proud. It was a sight to behold, one that made you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. “Ah ah, legs spread darling.” Matt warned, one firm hand spreading your legs anyways.

You thought Matt would get straight to fucking the shit out of you, but when he replaced his hand on your thigh with his lips you let out a shocked gasp. “Matt I—” you cried as he kissed all over your soft thighs, getting dangerously close to your heat.

“Consider this my apology.” Matt said lowly, diving straight into your slick folds. You moaned out as an immense wave of pleasure immediately overtook your body, Matt's nose brushing up against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance. Your hands flew to tug in his brown locks, only edging him on further. There was a part of you that wanted to try to stay as silent as possible after how little emotion he showed when he had you suck him off, but another part of you was enjoying this too much; and you knew that he was too.

His tongue pulsates in and out of your entrance with greed and desire, pushing his face further into your cunt so his nose pressed harshly against your clit. He started to moan as he devoured you, purposely sending pleasureful vibrations through your core. Your thighs wrapped tightly around his head as you could feel yourself starting to fall off the edge, you tried to fuck your self against his face getting ready to let go but Matt stopped you.

His strong hand came up and pressed down on your hip. The other hand slipping between his shoulder and your thigh, he pinned you down and pulled his face out of your soaked core. Right as you were seconds away from falling apart, you let out a frustrated moan as Matt fully pulled away from you.

“I didn’t say you could cum yet, sweetheart.” Matt said with a wide grin, knowing what he just took from you. You let out another exasperated breathe. “You’ll cum on my cock, like the good girl you are.” Matt said sternly. He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, making you taste yourself on him. He kissed you passionately, with vigor. This was Matt’s way of saying sorry for not coming home all those nights, and his way of making up for it.

He pulled away and gently cradled your face, a moment of softness in all the rough. “I love you.” He said softly, pressing one more kiss to your lips before he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, sweetly, Matt pushed his thick cock inside your slick cunt. One thing you’d never get used to being in a relationship with Matt was his size, he always stretched you out to a delicious extent. And you let him know of that now when you felt him bottom out inside of you, moaning loudly.

Once Matt could feel that you had adjusted to his girth, he slowly dragged out and pressed back into you. Breathless groans left both your lips as his pace gradually picked up, your hands raking up and down Matt’s back making your mark. Matt brought one hand on the hip as he started to slam into to have something to hold onto. His other hand was now wrapped around your throat as he delightfully squeezed the sides cutting off your blood-flow gently.

Things started to feel hazy and soft, you were coming up on that edge again as Matt thrusted harder and harder, absolutely destroying your pussy. “I know you’re close sweetheart, so am I.” Matt stated, the hand that was on your hip coming around and using his calloused thumb to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“Come with me, let me hear your pretty moans when you fall apart on my cock.” and that you did, you cried out as pleasure took over your body and your mind. You swore you were seeing stars as you could feel Matt’s thrusts faltering, his white hot streaks painting your insides.

After that things became blurry, you couldn’t remember how long ago you came or when Matt pulled out but the next thing you knew Matt was cleaning up between your legs with a damp washcloth.

After that the next thing you remembered was Matt flopping next to you on the bed and pulling you into his side, letting you rest your head on his chest. After what felt like hours, even if it was only a minute or so, he spoke.

“Are you alright darling? Or are you still fucked out?” You just looked up at him and flashed a dopey smile, not saying a word. “Still fucked out I see, just go to sleep darling.” Matt encouraged with a small laugh.

“I love you so much Matty.” you confessed, like you were some schoolgirl admitting your feelings for him for the first time. You could hear Matt’s heart skip a beat or two with one ear resting on his chest.

“I love you too y/n, so much.” He said, letting his lips fall to your forehead. You just smiled blissfully and nodded off to sleep.

—

A/N

Damn that was kinky, anyways if anyone watched Jessica Jones a certain scene with Hogarth inspired this so guess what I’m referencing in the comments <3 kudos to @wannabemurdock for helping me pick a title for this filthy fic ages ago when I wrote it. At the time this is posting I’m nearing the end of my summer camp job!! So cool, anyways thanks for reading and let me know what you thought!

Much Love,

—Skyler

#marvel #mcu #fan fic #fan fiction #cute #fluff #love #au #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock angst #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader smut #daredevil reader insert #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #mcu smut #marvel smut

[denim-devil]

I was wondering if your taking any marvel or DC requests atm?

Also I was wondering if I would be this anon 🦉? If that’s ok with you or if it isn’t taken

I’m taking Marvel requests but Only for Frank Castle, Matt Murdock and TASM!Peter Parker!

Ofc you can be my owl anon!!

#male reader #x male reader #marvel #frank castle #matt murdock #tasm!peter parker #tasm #the punisher #daredevil #smut #fluff #angst

[shiorimakibawrites]

Fantasy (Part 9 of Alley Cat)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3108

Summary:  Reader is feeling anxious about upcoming discussion with Daredevil and needs to relax.

Warnings: MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Masturbation. Vaginal Fingering. Fantasies about oral sex (female receiving and male receiving), penis in vagina sex, and implied unprotected sex. Reader being anxious.

Can also be read here. The Masterlist for this series can be found here

Author’s Note: While trying to write the conversation between Reader and Matt, the muses informed me that was another chapter before that one could happen. A chapter involving smut. I have never written smut. I've read it. Never written it. Until now. Hopefully it isn't terrible. I now have increased respect for writers of smut. It is (hee) hard.

Fantasy

by Shiori_Makiba

You were waiting for Daredevil (who was probably Matt Murdock) to show up. At least you thought he would be visiting you tonight. There was no way to know for sure. It wasn't like you had set up a meeting with him. You just assumed that he would want to have a discussion with anyone who had discovered who he was under the mask.

Assuming you hadn't completely misinterpreting everything. You were pretty sure that you hadn't. He hadn't been subtle with his hints. At all. The only way he could have less subtle was if he had walked in and said 'I am Daredevil.'

You were ninety-nine percent certain that Daredevil and Matt Murdock were the same person but that little sliver of doubt was enough for anxiety to latch onto and make you start second-guessing yourself.

There were reasonable explanations for every hint or clue that didn't involve Murdock being Daredevil. Yes, all of them together stretched plausibility but sometimes improbable things happened. Ten years ago, if you had been asked if it was possible for a World War II soldier, a billionaire, a monster, an archer, and a lady assassin to stop an alien invasion, you would have said it was not. And yet, that is exactly what happened.

The biggest thing that was making your brain run in circles was simply that it was a very serious accusation to make. An accusation for which you had absolutely no proof. Your case was built entirely on guesswork, assumptions, and personal opinion. Any defense attorney worth their salt would able to shred it to pieces with ease.

If you were wrong, the best case scenario was that Daredevil and Murdock would find your crazy theory that they were same person to be funny. You'd be embarrassed but everyone would have a good laugh and move on. Worst case scenario? Daredevil would be offended that you would accuse his blind friend of breaking the law and violating his oaths as an attorney. He ends your friendship and you never see him again outside of the news. And you would need a new legal team because such accusations would be completely justified grounds for them to sever the attorney-client relationship with you.

You tried to distract yourself from such anxiety-fueled thoughts.

You started with Houdini. Who deserved some extra attention anyway. He gladly accepted a session with the fishing pole toy. It was always fun watching him chasing after, jumping at, and pouncing on the dancing ribbons. When he started to tire, you put the toy down and gave him some treats.

Feeling more relaxed, you made yourself comfortable on your couch and decided to continue reading your book. A fantasy romance novel that you had picked out because the swashbuckling hero in the cover art resembled Daredevil from his The Man In Black days. The plot was a little formulaic but you liked the characters and the sex scenes were steamy.

And honestly, it was far less embarrassing than the other novel you had recently purchased. A superhero romance whose half-demon hero the Red Devil was very obviously inspired by Daredevil. You hoped Daredevil never found out that you had read it. And it's two sequels. And pre-ordered the fourth and final book in the series. Because you had gotten invested in the story. And the sex scenes were really hot.

As soon as you started reading, Houdini made himself at home on your lap and started bumping your hand with his head. You took the hint and starting petting him with one hand while holding your book with the other. It didn't take long for him to start purring and then fall asleep.

You thought you had successfully headed off that anxiety spiral until the sun started to go down and that discussion with Daredevil became imminent. Soon you were too anxious to sit still and had to get off the couch. Houdini appreciated neither being woken up from his nap or being moved when he was comfortable. Which he informed you of. Loudly. Before curling up in the warm spot you had been laying in and going back to sleep.

You started pacing around the apartment and knew you were too keyed up. You needed to relax. Normally you would cook but the marinara in the slow cooker didn't need anything except to be turned to the keep warm setting. You already had enough homemade pasta in your freezer to feed several people. Which also had an ample supply of soups, sauces, and other make-ahead meals for the upcoming week. And then some. You always seemed to make too much food for one person. Granted your friends were usually happy to take your overflow. Especially Jo since she can't boil water without burning it.

Maybe that was for best. You were jittery enough that maybe handling a knife was a bad idea. Kneading bread dough was great stress relief but you were still working through the results of your last stress induced baking spree.

You needed something else. Maybe a shower? A shower sounded good. It had a lot of benefits. It would relax you. And ensure that you didn't stink when the man with the bloodhound nose showed up. Mind made up, you headed for your bedroom to grab some fresh clothes.

You were debating about what to wear – what was the appropriate attire for secret identity discussions – when your eyes landed on your copy of The Red Devil. Which was on the floor along with a couple of other books that had been in the bookcase. The cleared out space was suspiciously Houdini sized. You rolled your eyes. It seemed that you had found his new napping spot which rotated every couple of days and had included the places like the breadbox on the kitchen counter. And the molded shelf in the shower stall. His favorite seemed to be your underwear drawer. And like with the bookcase, he wasn't afraid to dump some of your panties on the floor in order to make room for himself.

You picked up the fallen books and stacked them in another spot in the bookcase. There was no point in putting them back in their shelf until Houdini got bored of napping there. He would just push them off the shelf again. Looking at the cover art of the Red Devil books with its titular hero in skin-tight red leather, you couldn't help thinking about your vigilante in red leather and Kevlar. You blushed a little remembering how many times you had re-imagined the sex scenes with Daredevil instead of Red Devil and yourself instead of the journalist heroine. The memory alone was enough get you a little worked up. Which only made you blush harder.

You shook your head and decided firmly that you were at least going to be comfortable during your potentially awkward conversation. Besides he already been exposed to your sleep wear. It wasn't going to horrify him now. So you grabbed a pair of thin sleep pants and an oversized tee shirt along with clean underwear and socks. Then headed for the bathroom.

After depositing your clothes on the counter, you reached into the shower stall and twisted the knob. With a loud hiss, the shower sputtered to life. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped out of your slacks, blouse, panties, bra, and socks. You tested the water but it needed another minute. Which left you with nothing to do but stand there naked in the rising steam and think.

Your mind tried to retread the same anxiety-filled spiral but you pushed away those thoughts. You were supposed to be relaxing. You needed to think of something else. Anything else.

The something else your brain finally settled on as you entered the shower stall and slide the door shut was sex. Specifically sex with Daredevil . . .

You flushed and tried think of something else. You needed to be able to look Daredevil in the eye tonight, possibly very soon if he decided to talk to you before his patrol, and that would be impossible to do if you had just been picturing him naked and getting off to it. The fact that Daredevil was probably Matt Murdock who was blind and (probably) wouldn't know that you were avoiding his eyes was irrelevant.

But your brain had decided on what it wanted to latch onto next. And that thing was imagining Daredevil naked.

His Daredevil suit wasn't skin tight but it fitted his body close enough to give your imagination a good starting point. You pictured broad shoulders, solid pecs, and abs that you could bounce a quarter off that tapered into a trim waist before flaring out into the finest ass on the East Coast. Possibly the world. Thick thighs that would encourage your legs apart whether you were on your back or straddling his lap. Powerful arms that could easily hold you up against the wall or pin you down the bed. And, through it might be setting you up for disappointment later, a big dick, long and thick enough to make you feel the stretch when he entered you, that you would feel full when he was inside you.

Your cunt began to throb with need just at the thought of him being inside you. You leaned against the wall of the shower, hissing as the coolness of the tile touched your warm skin. Using your back to brace yourself against the wall, you spread your legs. You reached a hand and was unsurprised to feel that you were already wet. What surprised you was just how wet you already were. You gasped when your fingers grazed your clit and began to rub gentle circles.

You pictured a kiss. One that started out like the one of your cheek. Just the gentle press of those soft, pink lips against yours that soon deepens into something firmer, something hungrier. You imagined those hands, rough with calluses, roaming over your body. Followed by his lips, creating a trail of fire with alternating kisses and little nips down your neck to the tops of your breasts. The light scrap of his beard scuff causing the skin to sing with sensation that would leave you squirming against his body.

You started moaning his name as your fingers increased their pace on your clit, picturing those clever fingers teasing your nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. You would cry out when he latched onto one of the stiff peaks and sucked, arching your back to press more of your breast into his mouth.

You whined as your cunt clenched around nothing. You slide the fingers of your other hand along your soaked slit, coating your fingers in slick. You started panting as those fingers rubbed against your entrance and then began to dip inside. Soon you were pumping that finger in and out. It felt so good but not enough. You wanted more. You needed more. You quickly worked in a second finger. Which was better but you wished it was his fingers, thicker than yours, that were inside of you. But you made do and once you had a rhythm, your other hand resumed rubbing clit.

Soon the tension inside of you began to coil tighter and tighter . . . until it shattered as you came with a guttural moan. Legs trembling, you slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the shower. You felt more slick coating your thighs as your cunt clenched and twitched. You leaned your head back, closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

Well, you were definitely more relaxed now. And as much as you would like to sit there and enjoy your post-orgasm bliss, you needed to finish cleaning yourself before you ran out of hot water. You pushed yourself up onto still wobbly legs and reached for the soap . . .

*****************************************************************************************

Matt hadn't been trying to be a voyeur. Honestly. He had come to your apartment with the intention of speaking to you before starting his patrol. Otherwise he would be distracted and being distracted while fighting would lead to injuries. Which would annoy Claire who had been running off her feet caring not only for the civilians at her hospital who had been injured during Tuesday's attack but also the vigilantes who had responded. He made a mental note to talk to Danny about buying her a day at the spa or something. Didn't want her thinking that they didn't appreciate all of her hard work.

Furthermore, especially after his stunt at the office today, if he showed up at work tomorrow injured because he was distracted by a pretty girl, Foggy might actually kill him.

At first, his timing had seemed perfect. He had caught Houdini in the act of making his way down the fire escape. The cat made a spirited attempt to evade capture but ultimately failed. Not that he accepted his defeat quietly as Houdini immediately started monologuing at him. And squirming as soon as he started to scale the fire escape.

Which rather distracted Matt as he didn't want to accidentally drop your cat. A fall from this height could be lethal. Which would upset you greatly. He knew how much you loved your cat. Such an occurrence would also upset him as Matt had grown rather fond of Houdini.

The result was that he didn't notice the situation until he was standing on the platform by your bedroom window. But once he did, he immediately froze and didn't even notice Houdini taking advantage of his suddenly slack hold to slip out of his hands.

The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, stirring his cock to life. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply, his tongue from sweeping out to taste the air. He wished he was in the shower with you, his nose nuzzled against your neck. Filling his lungs with your pheromones and the sweet, sweet smell of your body getting wet for him.

Or even better, laying you down on the counter and burying his face in your cunt. He wanted to feel the muscles in your thighs twitch and tremble under his hands as he licked up your slit. To hear your panting moans as he lapped at and sucked on your clit. Or started fucking you with his tongue. He hoped you would pull his hair, gripped tightly in your hand, as he drew you closer and closer to release . . .

Then he heard something that only made his twitching cock harder. You started moaning his name. Daredevil at first but soon you were also panting out Matt. Confirmation that it was him you were fantasizing about while you touched yourself . . .

It took more willpower than was pretty to leave. And even more to stop listening to you get off. One day, he promised himself. One day, if you agreed to it, he would replicate this moment but this time, he would get to participate as something other than an accidental voyeur. One of a growing list of fantasies that he hoped you would be agreeable to fulfilling someday.

But not today. Regardless of the outcome of your discussion tonight, sex wasn't happening. He wasn't going to fuck you without taking you to dinner first. He had at least that much class.

His patrol was going to be delayed. He was even more distracted now then he was before. His erection was refusing to be willed away. His cock knew what it wanted. To be buried in your sweet cunt, to feel you gripping him tightly with each thrust until he spilled himself inside you. It would have to settle for his left hand.

Once back to his apartment, Matt wasted no time stripping off his suit and pushing down his boxers, hissing with relief at the cool air on his aching cock. Your apartment wasn't very far from his but it was long enough that the silk of his boxers rubbing on his erection was starting to make him oversensitive. That same sensitivity made him sit on his impatience and retrieve the lube. It didn't smell anywhere near as good as your slick but it would have to do.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he gripped the base of his cock and began to stroke the length. He tried to imagine that it was your hands wrapped around his cock but the sensation wasn't right. Your hands were smaller than his. Softer too. He vividly recalled the feel of your hand against his when he shook your hand after signing the retainer agreement as well as your cheek under his lips.

He was looking forward to discovering if the rest of your skin was just as soft. How your curves would feel under his hands. How your breathe would hitch when he cupped your breasts or grabbed a handful of your ass.

The pace of his hand increased as his mind flicked between all the things he wanted to do with you. He wanted you to sit on his face. Gripping your hips as you moved against his mouth, chasing your orgasm. Licking and sucking you afterward until you are squirming and whining from overstimulation.

His hips gave an involuntary jerk at the thought. Another fantasy rose to the surface.

You on your knees in front of him sucking his cock. He groaned at the thought of his cock engulfed in the tight, wet mouth of your mouth. Your tongue licking his length and discovering every sensitive spot, teasing him until he begged for more. Your lips closing over just the head and sucking. Your nails digging into his thighs, the little pain adding a sweet edge to the pleasure you brought. Would you moan as he fought not to start fucking your face? Would you let him come down your throat? Would you keep sucking and licking after his release until he also started whining from overstimulation?

That did it. He swore as he began to cum, coating his hand and abdomen in a sticky mess. He worked himself until it was too much. He needed to be spent before he came near you again with your arousal lingering in the air. Or he might given into temptation and take you on your kitchen table. Even after all that, his cock still gave an aborted twitch at the thought.

He cleaned up himself and was getting the suit back on when he heard the first signs of trouble. He growled. Looks like your conversation would have to wait until after he put the fear of the Devil in some people.

Ending Notes:

The first romance novel Reader mentions is basically Stardust if Tristan was Zorro / Dread Pirate Roberts.

The Red Devil ones are basically a original novel version of Falling For The Devil (Daredevil fic by BellaGiornata here on AO3 – go read it. Yes, I know it is at current point 79 installments long. Read it anyway).

The Devil books are quite popular. There might be a screen adaptation in the works. And I may have cast Charlie Cox as the lead in said screen adaptation.

#daredevil #the alley cat series #fan fic #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader smut

[6rookie-writer0110]

MasterList # 82

The Rays - Mary Bromfield x Male Reader (smut)

Short night - Sam Carpenter x Reader

Dating Sam Carpenter & being Daredevil would include…

Headcanon where Sam Carpenter is dating Y/n Wick (John Wick's son)

Don't wait up - Sam Carpenter X Male Reader (Smut)

The night will kill us - Sam Carpenter x Male Reader

Late-night talks & murder she wrote - Sam Carpenter X male reader

Barry with a demigod boyfriend headcanon

Moon & the Stars - Barry Allen x Male Reader

It felt good - Lois Griffin x male reader (Smut)

2 Weeks - Nate Jacobs x Male Reader (Smut)

Dating Morticia Addams Would Include...

It's not an Error - Kai Parker x Male Reader (Smut)

Dave Lizewski x male reader nsfw headcanon

Won't stop - Shoto Todoroki x Female Reader (Smut)

Hermione X Yandere Male Reader headcannon

#masterlist #master list

[first-edition]

Sinner

Matt Murdock x reader

She/her/hers

Cw- smut!! P in v, strong language, edging, pet names, 21+, alcohol consumption. Fluff and angst oral male REC.

Sum- you decide to take Matt’s advice and go to a confession booth only to not realize that Matt is in the other side. After telling you he knows and feel the same all he wants is to truly show you.

This is kinda a long Drabble so bare with it!

You stand outside the church and sigh, clutching your bag in hand. Finally giving in you shake your head and walk up the steps through the large black oak wood doors.

Pews with dark red velvet seats some people sitting in them and praying and a homeless man sleeping. Candles stacked in the front as a commemoration to those lost in the recent city bombing.

Looking over you see the the large wooden, box like, confession stand. Matt told you about them earlier after noticing something had been bothering you for the last few weeks. You were using your powers less, getting distracted at work or training. You’d bump into things when walking aliasing not seen them resulting in a large bruise against your hip from ramming into the corner of the desk.

You open the door and sit down on the side. He told you to wait for the priest to step in. That it’s 110% confidential even if you committed murder. That it’s better than therapy.

Your mind runs wild with the words and thought of you friend when the other side of the stand opens you immediately begin to trauma barf about your life and what happened how you got your powers after a nuclear blast caused by the reality stone. And then you break to Matt.

Clueless that it’s not a priest on the other side but Matthew murdock himself. He came to confess stuff about you. How hard it is to keep how he feels inside.

“I don’t know how I can tell him! Like I can’t even really..” You say

“What d-do you feel towards him?” Matt says making his voice deeper and older sounding to his it dispite the muffled mess of the box.

“…I want him to fuck me! Oh god I’m sorry! Oh shit! OH!” You cover your mouth realizing you’re cursing in a church. “I’m sorry..I just I’m in love with him and I have been for the last few years. During the blip.. we spent a lot of time together foggy and Karen were gone and we only had each other realizing that we could’ve not had each other.”

You chuckle shaking your head

“It’s stupid I know he makes me feel happy like myself and then I see him as daredevil-OH!” You cover your mouth again. “Don’t worry my child I’m sworn to secrecy” the “priest” says to you. You nod.

“He’s so hot! His abs and scars. Sometimes he’ll ask me to let him see. I can bend reality and allow him an illusion to see. But I’ve faked it once I was but ass naked and he asked me to see if he could find his tie and i illusioned clothes.”

“When he touches me..I want him to do things to me that I’ve never wanted before…I’m in love with him and he dosnt even know.” You say your phone rings as it’s Karen.

“Thank you for your time father.” You say and get up walking out.

————

After dropping paper work off at the office for Karen and foggy you go home. Opening the apartment door of yours and Matt’s home you walk in at an astonishing 7:30 pm.

“Matty?!” You call out “yeah?! Yep I’m home” he says from the other room.

You sigh and take off your shoes and put your keys down. Walking into the living room to see him pouring a glass of wine for you.

“Oh?” You say he smiles his usual puppy like smile.

“Whats this for?.” You ask also seeing gifts and a balloon.

“I just um…I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you like everything you do at the office and for me.. uh.” He holds out the glass and you take it. Your heart sinks slightly as you know he doesn’t know what this means to you, what you want it to mean.

But he does. It mean exactly what you want.

“Those are all for you” he says as you drink the wine

“Mm.” You chug the glass. “Whao..” he retorts “sorry…thank you” you reply setting the glass down. He drinks his as well.

You open a gift seeing it’s a necklace beautifully simple shiny silver and diamonds. “Matt…” you say holding it out “do you like it I can’t really tell the style but I had had Karen help me out a bit”

He says you smile and nod “you’re nodding arnt you.” “Yeah! Yes sorry I love it.” You reply. He smiles again as you put it it on.

“I gotta tell you something” you both say at the same time.

“Oh no go ahead” you say “no you were first” he chuckles you giggle shaking your head.

“Well I um went to that confession booth thingy you were talking about..” “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about too.” He says “oh?!” You says confused.

“I went there too…” he says “oh good we both got things ou-“ “and I heard what you said…about me.” He says

You freeze your face flushes and you veins turn to ice you’re heart feels like it stopped and your soul has left your body. It’s dead silent in the room.

“Y/n?… hello?” He says

Your mouth hangs agape as you sit embarrassed, frozen, mortified. You want to live your hand to use your powers to take you out of the situation make Matt see that you’ve left… holy shit you told him about using your powers on him when you were naked!

“Y-ye.” A pathetic half assed yes is all you can muster.

“Too be fair I wasn’t following you I thought you were a priest until you started barfing up the Declaration of Independence. But…god for so fucking long if wanted to hear you say that!” He says “w-what…” you squeak out

“Everything you said everything you want me to do to you is everything I wanna do! I’ve been in love with you since I met you! Every bit of you is so perfect and perky and beautiful. I love you.” He confesses

It’s still quiet for a few seconds until you being to cry. Tears stream from your eyes. “Hey hey I’m sorry!” He says moving to you putting his hands on your cheeks wiping off your face “you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that!” You choke out and laugh he laughs as well.

“Let me take care of you. Tonight and always for as long as you want me yeah? How does that sound.” He says you nod.

He kisses you his lips pressing against yours you kiss him back with the same passion he pulls you up to him straddling his lap. Your hands wander his hair and neck. Moving down to his chest you pull off his black tshirt exposing his perfect chiseled body. Dispite it being riddled with scars and permanent bruises it’s the hottest thing you ever seen.

His hand move up your shirt grabbing your breasts through your bra causing you to open your mouth in a quiet moan. Giving him the perfect opportunity to push his tounge into yours and bit your lip. Pulling your shirt off over your head he pulls away from your lips and kisses your neck and cleavage nipping at it surely making marks.

He stands, you still against him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he Carries you to the bedroom. Plopping down on the plush satin sheets the cool fabric cooling off your flushed skin. His hand move to you back easily unclasping your bra hooks and takin it off throwing it somewhere in the room. Before you can cover your chest he attaches his mouth to your right nipple hitting and sucking on it and massages the other breast.

“Ah..Ahh matt” you moan out as his tongue swirls around your budded nipples. He switches giving the other one just as much attention before kissing down your chest and stomach his hands following being carful to skip over your bruise as it could still hurt. He takes a hold of your pants pulling them off leaving you in your underwear.

The once matching set, if he didn’t yeet your bra into oblivion, that Karen got you for your birthday is covered in lace just so happening to be in Matt’s favorite color. His finger run across the fabric feeling the desgin. He chuckles kissing your lower stomach just barley missing your belly piercing.

“Lace?” He retorts “Karen.” You pant out. He chuckles and pulls them off exposing to him even though he can’t see. Or can he.

He pushes your legs apart and lays between them pecking yourself face in kisses.

“Let me see you princess.” He says using the nickname he uses when your sad, drunk or overall having fun.

“Matt..” you says “it’s okay…I’m not gonna hate anything. I can already feel you” he says his fingers brushing over your clit making you gasp and immediately wave your fingers a purple mist of sparkles fade into his eyes he blinks a few times then smiles at you his eyes meeting yours.

“Hi.” He says “h-hi” you squeak out. He shifts and pulls back his eyes scanning every inch of you he chuckles “yeah..I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.” He says and gets up off the bed and goes to the drawer grabbing a pack of condoms and brings them back over.

His hands go down to his belt buckle only you sit up and crawl over to him “no.” You say he frowns “I do it” you say and undo his belt the visible bustle under his pants making you so wet. Pulling off his pants and boxer his duck springs up. After living with Matt for five years you’ve seen him naked once and that was from the back of him but you never thought a dick could look this good.

You take him in your hand and open your mouth running your tounge up his shaft and then taking him in your mouth. He shudders against you.

“Fuck..” he sigh. You begin the ritual of sucking him off licking and stroking. Wanting to milk him if every last drop of his cum. “Ah shit y/n y-your gonna make me cum..” he huffs moving your hair out of the way. You him against him in a reply.

“Ahh fu-fuck.” He groan and pulls you off stopping you. You pout at his actions.

“Lay back.” He says taking the condom in his mouth tearing it open. You listen and open your legs form him he chuckles shaking your head “fuck I wish you could use your powers like this all the time. Damn” he huff rolling on the condom and moving between your leg.

You pushes himself in slowly to let you get used to him. You but your lip muffling your moans as he begins to move.

“Ahh sh-shit.” You moan out as he thrusts into you.

Your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He places a hand over your stomach to feel the budge he’s made in you.

“Take it so good!”he says incoherent you moan back his hand moves from you stomach to your clit moving circles around it in perfect form.

“Ah m-matt please. Ngh” your words are drown buy the sounds of moans and grunts. “What do you want baby. You gotta ask Hm?” He says his other hand moving to your throat. You smile at the sudden pressure.

“Ah shit you like that huh? You like with i fuck you and choke you?” He says “mm yes.” You reply

“Good girl.”

“Ha ngh oh fuck! God.” You moan you grabs your thighs pulling your leg over his shoulder and pushing all the way into you and roughly fucks you causing you to scratch at his back and eyes roll back “ummm don’t say his name in vein baby!” He retorts fucking you faster.

Stuttering your words you try to say him name.

“What? I can hear you.” He says “c-cum fuck I-I’m gonna-“ your back arches and your release clenching Matt’s dick “shit shit!” Your curse he feels you.

Your face twisting and grabbing anything you can gives him so much pride in seeing you completely fall apart at his pleasure. His move his hand back to your clit once again playing and rubbing it heavily over stimulating you.

“M-Matty please..I can’t Ahh” you cum again easy as that. “Shit come on baby!” He edges you wanting more out of you. The intenseness of ever rn I got he’s doing to you. Fucking you raw out of your mid, keeping you entertained, in pleasure.

His thrusts staggers deeply in you and with a few last pumps he cums pushing into you as you clench around him cumming for the third time. Eyes rolling back mouth agape back arched clutching onto him nothing and none can make you feel this good.

You pant coming down from your highs and enjoying a short make out session before he pulls out of you and pulls off the condom throwing it in the trash next to the bed. You move to lay on your side but He moves you back to your back as you face him he pushes your legs open.

“Matty I-I don’t think I can..” you begin he kisses your inner thigh and sits back. Shaking his head

“Just admiring I can’t normally see so this is like a kid in a candy store with no money” he says making you giggle and blush as it dusts over your skin. The necklace his got you laying perfectly against your chest.

“Okay.” He says and nods “you sure?” You ask he sighs and nods “yeah.” He says reluctantly.

You open your arms to him he moves back to you as you share a kiss and stop using your powers.

He pulls you to the side as you lay your head on his chest. What seems like an instant your fast asleep completely content. He pulls the cold satin sheet over you both. The sound of your heart beat pulling him to sleep.

#matt murdock smut #Matt Murdock #Daredevil #daredevil smut #matt murdock x reader smut