AHHH OMG THANK YOU!! 💋

oh god this has me going absolutely feral, ugh what i would give to have sam fuck me like this-

Training Day

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Sam Wilson x woc!reader

Summary: The one where training with Sam leads to other things

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: look….it’s smut. choking, semi public sex, female receiving oral, spanking (once really) unprotected sex (wrap it before they tap it), creampie, daddy kink (just the name used once), size kink because sam was so gd beefy in tfatws and it makes me feral 

A/N: SAM WILSON PIN ME TO THE WALL CHALLENGE. This one goes out to my main Samhoes @ritesofreverie​ & @certainaesthetic​ This is obviously set after TFATWS so Sam is Captain America (AS HE SHOULD BE). The divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

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The way that I wanna dom the shit out of Steven Grant…

Something we need to talk about more is the fact that's its practically canon that Matt has a choking kink????In season 2 him and Electra are having sex and he grabs her throat???I feel like this should constantly be discussed because oh my god!!!

The only way I’d want Eddie to die is if I sucked his soul outta his dick. Send tweet.

what about dark mechanic bucky when you forget your credit card. he's all sweaty and dirty wearing a wife beater and jeans. imagine how mean he would be 😳😳

Oh… he would be so mean and so cocky. Wiping the sweat off of his face with the back of his forearm, leaning against the wall making vulgar comments to his co-workers *cough cough* mechanic!Ari while checking you out like a piece of fresh meat.

Warnings: dark/mean Bucky, NON-CON, DUB-CON, misogyny, degradation, objectification, unprotected intercourse, 18+ only MDNI

"Walk in here looking like a fuckin’ prostitute. What do you expect?"

"P-Please, just, please st-stop," your subconscious lets out a moan while you struggle to escape Bucky’s firm grip.

"You left your wallet at home on purpose, didn’t you? Dirty whore’s getting what she wanted," Bucky groans, clenching his jaw. The rivers of defined veins flow down Bucky's muscular arms. His hand covers the whole right side of your head while the old cement wall scrapes deep into your left cheek.

"N-No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whine, your puffy eyes welling up with salty tears. "S-stop, I promise p-please," your groans trembling, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, breaking the tender flesh.

The pungent scent of blood and sweat floods your senses as Bucky mercilessly rams into you. "Oh, don’t act like you don't like it." Bucky ridicules you, the head of his cock rapidly slamming into your cervix. "You’re so wet, you like being used like the worthless slut you are."

You squirm under Bucky’s hold, pulling fearful whimpers from your clenched abdomen. Pressing the rough pads of his fingers to your swollen clit, your knees go weak. "That’s it," Bucky groans. His skin beats against yours, beads of sweat rolling down his toned body. "Can’t even pretend anymore, pathetic."

Masterlist

Started: 9/26/19 Updated: 6/28/21

Bucky Barnes:

To The Stars [social media AU]

Forge of the Heart [series] - WIP (on hold)

Let’s Take An Old Fashioned Walk - [oneshot]

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - [oneshot]

I’m Gonna Marry Her - [oneshot]

Dance With Me - [oneshot]

Please Mr.Postman - [oneshot]

A Bucky Barnes Love Story - [series] - WIP

Spencer Reid:

I Love You - [oneshot]

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian):

Love Language - [oneshot]

Dancing in the Moonlight - [oneshot]

Dean Winchester:

ER Nights - drafted

Add yourself to my taglist if you want!

nsfw masterlist (18+ only)

reblog if you support unabashedly smutty fanfic

and the beautiful authors who give it to us.  you are a treasure. 

thinking of writing nsfw alphabet for a few of the characters, so we’ll see how that goes-

ME TOO BABE😩

Te Lo Ruego

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.8k

summary: miguel is desperate for just a taste

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being a munch and pussy drunk, that’s it, it’s just him being desperate to eat you out <3 also, spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: I read two words and was inspired to write this…took me about an hour and now this is all i’m thinking about, please enjoy // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

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THIS WAS EVERYTHING

𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 | ꪑ.ꪑ.

fandom marvel

featuring matt murdock x reader (f)

rating NSFW / MINORS DNI / DARK FIC

content warning CNC (consensual nonconsent), roleplaying, dark!elements, matt losing control, unprotected sex, threats, breath play, semi public play, impact play, brief blackout, creampie kink, oral sex (f), use of a safe word, aftercare

summary the best way to keep his conscience in check is to let him stray every now and then. no one seemed to understand that but you.

word count 5k (yikes, sorry) / one shot

attention not proofread. do not read if you don’t like dark!fics (duh) because i’m not responsible for your media consumption and this fic contains consensual non consensual sex acts & abusive behavior! do not copy/repost/translate. reblog / give feedback. divider by @firefly-graphics !

“Look,” you exhale slowly, twisting the golden band on your ring finger as you consider the easiest way to let him down, “no offense but I—“

“You’re waiting on someone?” he asks, brows arching above the rounded edge of his dark glasses. “Husband, maybe, judging by the way you keep fidgeting with that ring. I’m guessing it’s a wedding band.”

you sigh, and nod, but answer quietly. “I’m married, but,” you glance around the bar, scanning each face, before your gaze falls on him again. the man on the stool beside you, his arm resting on the bar top, thick digits rimming the lip of his beer bottle. “My husband— he doesn’t exactly know that I’m here. It doesn’t matter, really, just looking to be left alone tonight.”

his smile remains, as if it’s been painted on his lips. he tilts his head to one side, as if he’s intrigued, or perplexed, by this new information. “He doesn’t know where you are?” a breathy chuckle escapes his grinning countenance, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? A girl like you?”

your eyes narrow, and you hiss, somewhat defiantly. “A girl like me? A girl like me can take care of herself, keep that in mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” he answers smoothly, the arrogance that has you gritting your teeth as his smile contorts into a flippant expression as he shrugs, “Didn’t mean anything by it, you just seem sweet. Your voice is soft and kind,” there’s a subtle twitch in the left corner of his mouth that you take note of, before he adds, “but I suppose that you’ve gotten good at lying to men, haven’t you?”

staring at him incredulous, you scoff, “Just what the fuck do you know about me, anyways? I—“

“I know you’re in some sleazy bar late at night, and that your husband doesn’t know where you are.” he leans close, as if whispering a terrible secret, his palm finding your bare thigh and rubbing firm circles, “I know you’re wearing a dress too short to be wanting to be left alone, and cheap perfume that you don’t mind wasting, drenching yourself in to… cover up the scent of the man you plan on cheating on your husband with. Should I keep going?”

“No.” you snap, fed up with the glaringly obvious truths spilling from his lips, “no. You should get up and walk away. Right now.”

this is the moment his aura shifts, the air between the two of you seems to thicken with tension and you can see his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. it’s almost intimidating, but you try not to seem too disturbed by it, clearing your throat, you turn back towards your nearly-empty glass, kicking your leg in hopes to shake his hand free of your thigh.

“It’s not going to fucking happen.”

the weirdest part about him was that he stayed. sure, he put some distance between the two of you, but merely moved to one of the tables in the corner. and that’s where he sat, drinking, waiting. you could swear that the man didn’t plan on leaving until you did, so you tested your theory.

you stayed until last call.

and the man did, too. he hadn’t talked to anyone else after you, just sat at the table and ordered beer after beer.

just as the bartender swaggered over to you, flipping a rag over his shoulder, you felt a body breeze past you from behind— it was his cologne. you turned on the stool to see him leaving the bar, silently, and taking careful steps, guided by a nearly rhythmic tapping of the white cane in front of him. you felt a wave of relief upon watching him leave— not that he seemed necessarily dangerous (just a massive prick), but you couldn’t explain the jitters you felt when his hand rested on your thigh. pensive, you run your fingertips over the affected area.

“All right, lady.” the bartender huffs, “You ain’t gotta go home, but ya can’t stay here.”

snapping back to the present, you nod, gathering your things and pulling yourself to your feet. “Oh! Right, sorry.” nibbling on your bottom lip, you settle your tab and exit the bar with a couple of late-night stragglers.

you hadn’t been expected the rain. a steady shower that had started sometime after you’d went inside, and now you’re standing in the middle of it, soaking from head to toe, and wishing you brought an umbrella.

you fish in your clutch for your phone to order an Uber, but think better of it. a cab, instead. there was one approaching from over the hill and you take a step forward, extending your arm to wave it over.

that’s when he grabs you.

one palm clamps over your mouth hard, whilst the other plants itself firmly on your midsection, hoisting you off the sidewalk and away from the street. your first instinct is to scream, a muffled sound drowned out by the rain. your next was to fight. you thrash wildly against your attacker, kicking until one of your heels flies off and lands in a mud puddle he drags you by, your arms flailing in attempts to reach his face. when they do, you feel thick, soaked fabric over his eyes, and no matter how you try to sink your nails in, you can’t seem to get a grip. the man drags you into the alleyway by the bar’s employee exit with you protesting violently the whole way. finally, he grunts when you grasp his cheek, and jerks it away, before flinging you on to your back on the metal door of the dumpster.

wheezing loud through his tightly sealed fingers, you arch your back, eyes fluttering as you feel every bit of wind knocked from your lungs. his hand is tight over your mouth but he leans close to your face. even in the rain, you recognize the scent of his cologne. the man from the bar, but he’s certainly dressed different. clad in all black, he appears as a wicked shadow of the suit-wearing asshole he was before. your eyes squint, blinking rapidly as raindrops blur your vision ever so slightly, but you’re glaring up at him, screaming obscenities through his palm and kicking your legs.

“You’re going stop screaming,” he mutters, lips hovering dangerously close to your cheek, “so I can take my hand off your mouth, or I’m going to have to make you be quiet. Understand?”

fuck him. fuck him!

you only howl louder against his hand, both hands latching on to his wrist. your nails bite at the thickness of his gloves, but you can’t tell if they actually go through.

his free hand comes down in a tight, strong fist and strikes the metal inches from your skull, a bang as loud as a gunshot making your ears ring. a strangled whimper dies in his palm, dizzy from the noise and grateful that you had narrowly avoided being hit hard enough to produce that kind of sound.

“I said you’re going to stop screaming.” he repeats. his fist must’ve been throbbing, but he didn’t let any discomfort reach the stoicism of his countenance, or what you could see of it— “Now, scream again, and maybe my aim gets a little better. Understand?” the grip over your mouth has his clothed digits digging into the flesh of your cheeks, and he uses the leverage to nod your head for you. “I’m going to take it off, now, and you’re going to behave.”

he does, and you follow his rules, for now. huffing, you attempt to suck in as much, burning oxygen as you can, sputtering raindrops.

“Smart girl.” he seems pleased, or at least approves of your cooperation, and he snatches the purse from your shoulders, tearing it open.

panting, you prop one elbow into the rusted metal you’re lain upon to try and push yourself up. “So what, you want.. money? Take it, Jesus. Could’ve just snatched my purse from the street.”

“I don’t want your money.”

and, you watch him punctuate that statement by emptying the contents of your purse on to the concrete, sparkling like night stars. a small handgun, compact mirror, cellphone, wallet.

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

his hand latches on to one of your ankles, yanking you to the very edge of the dumpster so abruptly that you lose your balance and fall back against it with a soft grunt. “I want to give you what you want.” he murmurs, gripping both of your knees to pry them open. no matter how hard you try to close them, he’s much too strong to compete with, and he forces them wide enough for him to step between with ease. “What you were looking for the moment you stepped foot into that bar dressed the way you did.”

you dig your knees into his ribs from either side with a furious snarl. “No!” you exclaim, pushing yourself up again to throw both of your arms in his direction. he lays a palm flat against your sternum and overpowers you with ease, holding you down with your spine flush against the dumpster. he was so goddamn strong, you remember thinking, that fighting against him was practically useless. “I don’t want this,” you hiss, and he uses his teeth to pull the glove off of his free hand and discard it beside your writhing frame, “I don’t want this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you can keep repeating that mantra,” he murmurs, his now bare hand delving between your open thighs to find the warmth that lives there. fist curling around the thin fabric of your panties, with one jerk, he’s torn them from your body with a horrible sound echoing around you. he grunts low, like a beast, when he finds it; the rough pads of his digits worm their way underneath your delicate nether lips, and for the first time, you see a grin etch his lips upward, flashing pearly white teeth, “but your pussy’s wet, you know. Drenched, actually.” wrist craning, his thumb presses hard on your button like he knows exactly where to find it and you suppress a needy moan, hips rocking to try and escape his filthy caress. “Been that way since I told you that it was dangerous being out here alone. I could smell your juicy cunt in the bar, you know that? Even from across the damn room, I could feel the warmth radiating from it, fucking needy, little pussy. Tell me I’m mistaken.”

even with the chill of the raindrops on your face, the apples of your cheeks burn with humiliation. had you truly been turned on at the prospect of danger, or was this masked man full of shit? you couldn’t remember properly, like everything before his hand between your hips was a distant memory. his first, two digits tease your clenching hole before he pushes them in and hooks them there, like an anchor inside of your body. the moan escapes you now, tearing through your tightly pursed lips like a bat out of hell. “You’re mistaken…” you murmur, but the excited fluttering of your walls against his fingers gives you away.

“And you’re a bad liar.”

his fingers dive deeper, curling every few centimeters or so, and you grit your teeth, your own hand covering your mouth to prevent any more moaning. still, it was hard to deny how good it felt, the skillful prodding of his digits. “Goddamn, that’s a tight, little hole.” his breathing had become somewhat ragged, like he’d been running a marathon, but only after he got to feel you. it was you that was making him this way, pant and grunt and dig his fingers into the fabric of your dress where he still held you down. “Just begging to get stuffed full of dick, isn’t that right?”

you shudder, body aching at every syllable as it hangs in the air around you. your legs tremble against his taut frame, looking up at him with a bleary gaze. allowing your hand away from your mouth, you push against the wrist that plants his palm firmly on your chest, “Don’t—“

but the sound of the zipper whirring makes your head spin. puts you on edge. you squirm until you’re partially crumpled on the lid of the dumpster, neck craned as far as it will without pain to see him retrieving himself from the fabric prison of his inky trousers. even in the blur of the rain, the dim lighting of the barren alley, you see it. thick and heavily veined, already rock hard and throbbing. ready to fuck you into an oblivion like you’ve never experienced before. the thought makes your stomach turn, for all the wrong reasons.

temporarily stunned, you don’t even realize that his hand has slipped from your chest and, instead, cradles the back of your neck, urging you forward.

“I gotta feel that tight cunt wrap around my cock right fucking now,” his words are an exhale, a spectral version of a statement that has goosebumps raising over your arms and legs, “be a good girl and take it.”

the force at which he enters you is astounding. if you weren’t so wet, it might have even hurt. you suck in a whimper that was threatening to fill the air between the two of you as he bottoms out, swelling your canal to max capacity with a single thrust.

“That’s it,” he moans, jaw clenched tight, he hauls you closer to his body, slumped in a forced sitting position with your legs swinging helplessly at his hips, “that’s good.” his grip on the back of your neck seems to tighten, pushing you closer to him as if he couldn’t get deep enough to satiate his lust for the destruction of your cunt.

you mewl, lewdly so, and slam the sides of your fists against the broad expanse of his solid chest. the fabric that clings to it makes a slick thudding, like the sound you may hear if you jumped on a wet trampoline. “You can’t!” you protest, choking back sounds of pleasure that so desperately wish to assure him that he most certainly can, “You can’t do this! Stop! Stop—“

the familiar sensation of his thick palm clamping over your lower mandible returns to shut you up, only this time, his thumb and forefinger pinch your nostrils closed at the same time. “I said I needed your cunt, never said anything about your mouth—“ he grunts, his rutting finding a violent pace as he jackhammers himself into you. you dig your nails deep into the sleeve that covers his forearm, wriggling helplessly as the masked devil takes you. “I’ll take it, too, when I’m done wrecking this sweet, little fuckhole, but hush up until then.” your eyelids flutter, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen reaching them. he doesn’t seem to care, though you get the feeling he’s aware, and he shifts, positioning you like a rag doll, with one of your legs thrown over his bicep so he can force it back towards your chest when he leans forward, opening you up for a more thorough plowing.

the angle gives his throbbing length access to new depth, and the swollen head of his cock batters your insides with reckless abandon. “Yeah,” he spits, husky and starving in your ear, “Yeah. Dick’s way deep in that pussy, isn’t it?” he can feel the vibration of your sobs of protest melding into helpless moans of ecstasy. “I know you like it, sweet girl, I can tell by the way you’re gripping me right now— holy hell, what is it? Hubby doesn’t fuck you hard enough? That why you’re here, throwing yourself into the water like a piece of fuckmeat, and waiting to see what shark is gonna come up and take the bait?” you gurgle in response, lids heavy but you force them to stay open, sinking your teeth into the glove. it wouldn’t be enough, you realized, it probably didn’t even hurt. but you were in a whirlwind of sensation, your belly churning as your walls milk his girth. he grunts, gasping for a proper breath as he keeps yours nonexistent, his lips smearing saliva and raindrops over your cheek before he snarls, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ the expletives sound especially sinful when uttered in that coarse whisper, broken into base syllables, edged by the pleasure of hurting you. by smothering you.

smothering. the word rings true as your lungs ache and yearn for oxygen, you start to jerk and squirm, hoping to -at least- break a gap between his fingers to suck air through, but he holds you tight and close to his heaving chest, your forehead smashed against it. “You wanna breathe, sweet girl?” he teases wickedly, plumbing your depths with a ferocity that had to be unique to him. “Because I’ll let you, all you gotta do is cum for me, first. You’re close already, I know it—“ he groans, his jaw tight, “I can hear your heartbeat, fast like a scared little bunny, and feel how tight your little pussy is getting around me, you’re gonna cum so fucking hard, huh? Even harder because you can’t breathe.”

he’s right. heavens, is he right! your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, pulls you to the depths of ecstasy like an undertow. you thrash like you’re drowning, screaming muffled through his hand until your throat is raw and sore, and you see white specks, like stars dancing about him. darkness burns the edges, vision like vingette as you quiver, locked in place. “That’s it, good girl,” he huffs, forcing you to ride through your orgasm, “give me a nice, big one. Just… like… that…”

dizzy is no longer a strong enough word to express how you feel. you’re beyond dizzy, you’re weightless. you’re floating through space, directionless, helpless, and utterly broken. your grip loosens on his wrist, only slightly, and he reacts in turn, releasing your mouth and nose to strike your cheek in rapid slaps, bringing you back into the consciousness you’d been slipping out of. “Come back, sweet girl, come on. Not, ah, not done with you, not yet.”

the breath you take almost feels like the first one. it’s new and it burns all the way down, you sputter and spew rain drops, choking on sweet oxygen when you come to, eyes wide and trying to adjust. you flail in his grip, temporarily disoriented and scared, until he hooks that one leg over his shoulder and grips the back of your neck with both hands, fingers interlacing against your nape, forcing your chin towards your flouncing breasts.

“I want you to watch,” he pants, ragged and needy, in your ear, “watch me fuck your little cunt and tell me what you see.”

you’ve no choice with the way he’s pressing your chin into your chest. you moan but it’s a strangled, frustrated sound. “I—“ you pause, pursing your lips to try and kill a whine of pleasure; it doesn’t work, “I—I see your cock going in and out of me!” sucking in another breath, your eyes are glued to the vividly obscene display where your bodies connected, “And, fuck, you’re going deep-p— my— I came all over it!”

he’s buried his face in your neck, sucking on the tender skin and teasing your pulse point with his teeth to muffle his own, needy moans. “Yeah?” he asks, “Is your clit nice and swollen? Aching?”

you bite down on your lower lip, “Y—yeah…!”

he inhales deep, teeth grazing your collar bone, rutting more erratically. “Play with it.”

you shudder at even the thought of touching the screaming bundle of nerves. “I can’t— I’m too sensitive!” you protest, shaking your head.

“Not gonna tell you again,” he huffs, “rub your greedy pussy for me.” his jaw tightens, and you can feel his member palpitating deep inside you. “Shit, I need to feel you cum again.”

you try to look at his face, adjust your body so you can see the muscles in his jaw pulled tight, or at least so you could see something other than your body swallowing his cock like you were starved for it. one, trembling hand approaches your sex with caution, fingers prodding experimentally at your clitoris. the slightest poke sends electricity through your veins, and you let out a pathetic, little squeak.

“Keep going.”

you swallow hard around a lump in your throat but obey, rubbing your nub harder and quicker. you groan, half in pleasure and half from how sensitive you were— how it almost hurt to touch yourself now.

“Ah, fuck,” he moans in your ear, heavy breath sending chills down your spine, “you’re getting tight again. Heart beat kicking up. I bet you feel that churning in your belly, don’t you? Don’t stop, sweet girl, make yourself cum on my cock one more time.”

you hated that he was right; loathed that the constant decimation of your sex and the new stimulation has brought on a second orgasm. you convulse, eyes rolling back when you cum for the second time in a matter of minutes, this one hitting you much harder than the first. expletives spill from your swollen lips and tangle within labored breathing; your hips jut forward to meet the violence of his rutting, to accept the battering he deals you with a masochistic lust.

“I’m close. Real close.” you could already tell by the way his moans had turned into hisses of breath, and how he throbs inside of you, but hearing him say it only extended your orgasm for another few seconds. “I’m gonna cum— gonna fill you up, sweet girl.”

you didn’t even have time to protest.

warmth engulfs your interior, spreading through your belly like a wildfire, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moans muffled and vibrating the flesh of your throat.

several seconds pass.

you can feel his seed oozing from the join of your bodies, sticking to your thighs and smearing over his pants, and he stays there, getting his breathing under control, while he deposits what seems like years of pent up sexual frustration into your guts. after what seems like a lifetime of aftershocks shared between the both of you, he retreats, using one hand to pull himself free while the other holds your nape, flinging you off of the dumpster and on to the concrete below. you land on your feet, but your knees are like jelly, and you melt to the wet ground shortly after, panting, wheezing. looking up at him, looming over you, you can see that his cock is twitching madly, but his grip on it is tight, thumb massaging the protruding vein. was he… was he stroking himself back to life?

aware that going another round with this man meant your willpower would be completely shattered, you roll yourself on to your knees and look around, heart beating fast and hard against your ribs. you catch sight of your phone, a few feet away, and scramble towards it, extending your hand for it. you were so close that the tips of your fingers brushed across the screen and it lit up, the words FACE ID NOT RECOGNIZED USE PASSCODE flashing.

then, you feel his hands in your hair. delving deep against the roots, he yanks hard, and your back arches, knees digging into the gravel. “Ah!” it’s partially a cry of frustration, and partially a startled gasp.

“You thought we were done?” he asks, chest heaving as he drops to his own knees behind you. the grip on your scalp keeps your head forward, tilted back, and he wedges his knees between yours, forcing them wide open again. you moan, helpless and weak, when you feel the rain mixing with his cum on your thighs, more oozing out of you. “We’re not done.”

“Please!” you whine; you know how pathetic and tiny you must sound to him, but you can’t help yourself. “I can’t cum again! I just can’t!”

“Sure you can, sweet girl,” he scoffs, every word laced with acid, “I’m gonna make it easy for you.” he leans in close to your sex, inhaling the concoction of scents. yours and his, before licking a thick stripe between your nether lips. you squeal, trying to crawl forward to escape the tingling in your toes and the throbbing of your clit, but his grip is too strong. “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue until you beg me to stop.”

your thighs quaking, you mewl and babble and beg him to let you rest, to stop this torture of never ending orgasms, but he’s too deep between your thighs to listen. his tongue dives into your abused hole, slurping on his own taste as well as your desire. he nibbles on your folds, one hand planted firm on your ass cheek with his fingers dug in deep. you reach for the phone again, and groan when you see that it’s just out of the way, the very tips of your digits can only just ghost over the home button. the visage of salvation just beyond your fingertips, leaving you at the mercy of the man in black taunts you.

his couplet encases your clit in warm, tongue swirling around it, and you can feel the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw. your whole body is shaking so violently that you’re forced to brace yourself with both palms on the concrete. “I can’t,” you moan, desperate, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” those two words are repeated over and over as he devours your core, another orgasm fast approaching. you were at your limit. you were done.

“Silver,” you whisper, breathless, and you feel him stop and pull away from you. “Silver, Matty, silver.”

your name falls from his lips. not sweet girl. your name. he releases your hair, but his palm falls to caress your face as he crawls up to kneel at your side. you rest your fiery cheek against the bare palm and look up at him— his mouth is sparkling with your arousal coating that and his jaw, but his lips are pulled downwards in a concerned frown. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. Just really sensitive, now.” you assure him, grabbing on to his arm with both hands to haul yourself into a sitting position, “I just—“ you tilt your head, shaking digits pushing the black mask from over his eyes. those gentle eyes. then, you cradle his face in both hands and guide his lips to yours in a soft peck. “Take me home, yeah?”

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you hum, softly, running your fingers through Matt’s freshly washed, damp tendrils as he rests his head in your lap. the two of you had been curled up on the couch in that spot since after your shower together, where you took turns washing one another carefully. it was somewhat of a routine, and one that assured him that he had done no real damage to you during the session.

he turns his head, resting the back of it against your thigh. you pause, before brushing along his scalp near the top of his ear instead. he looks up towards the ceiling, hand reaching for your face. your free hand gently guides it to your cheek, and you nuzzle into the caress. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“All of it. The game, the safewords… why?” he doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, but merely confused. “No one’s ever really done anything like this with me… For me.”

you tilt your head, thoughtfully twirling a damp lock of his hair around your forefinger. “You told me before, that you had the devil inside of you.” he nods, still not getting it. “Well,” you start, watching his countenance carefully, “The devil’s like a dog trapped inside. And if you never let a dog out of the house, they rip up furniture, eat things they’re not supposed to. They destroy things because they’re bored, understimulated.”

“So, what you’re saying is that all of this is you metaphorically taking the devil inside me for a walk?” his brow quirks, and he chortles lowly in amusement.

you scoff, shaking your head. “Not exactly, and thanks a lot, you just screwed up my metaphor.” your fingertips glide over his scalp and towards his forehead, drawing soft, loving circles about his temple, “Every now and then, the devil needs to be let out, needs to breathe and run. If we keep him stimulated in a safe environment, there isn’t any need for him to destroy, is there?”

Matt cocks his head to the side, “But who says it’s all that safe? I could hurt you one of these nights.” his voice lowers as he says it, as if simply uttering the words brought a sadness over him.

you arch your eyebrows, “You would never hurt me, Matthew Murdock.” sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you turn your head to press your lips to his fingers, kissing the golden band on one of them in particular, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t trust you.”

“And if I don’t trust myself?”

“Then, trust me.” you murmur against it, “Trust me.”

he seems pensive for a moment, and is quiet as he thinks. “All right, I trust you, baby.” he smiles, letting go of your cheek to instead pat his lips with the pad of his forefinger twice. it was his way of telling you to kiss them. you do as instructed, leaning over to press your couplet to his, and you smile into the embrace. “Mm… even though you go to sleazy bars in town late at night without telling me.”

a giggle bubbles, uncontrollably, out to break the kiss and you nip at his lower lip with a playfully thoughtful hum, “Well, I guess that means you just need to fuck me more, Mr. Murdock.”

“Oh?” he chuckles, too, and sits up, turning to angle your chin up towards him with his forefinger curled beneath it. the pad of his thumb runs over your lower lip, and he grins wide. “I think I can do that, Mrs. Murdock.”