Priest!matt Murdock X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Show Me How You Sin

pairing: Priest!Matt x AFAB!Virgin!Reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! umm haha everything? blasphemy, heavy desecration of religion, virgin reader, oral (f receiving), guided masturbation, soft!dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, reader is in 20’s

synopsis: Father Matthew leads you through your confession and first orgasm

A/N: haha hey! don’t read this is sacrilegious themes offend you!

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/FEEDBACK/LIKES ARE VERY MUCH WELCOMED HEHE

DO NOT REPOST, STEAL, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION. I’LL SMITE YOU.

he has to know how good he looks, right?

honey, he’s blind.

your mother gives you a quick side eye partnered with a smirk as you mumble to each other from the pew, relishing in the sight in front of you.

black garments cling to Father Murdock’s body in just the right way as he preaches about something you’ve probably heard many times before. your focus is purely on the way his hands rest against the wooden pulpit, veins visible under the dim light, and you can’t help the way your thoughts wander.

his fingers tap into the wood as he emphasizes some point, …your Heavenly Father will also forgive you, practically teasing you to imagine the way they would feel against the inside of your thigh, pressing into the soft flesh as your dress rides up with his touch.

the vasculature of his hands becomes more prominent as he grips onto the pulpit, and you have to swallow away the question of what his hands would look like wrapped around your throat while your lips release sweet moans.

your cheeks flush as you watch the way his tongue darts from the corner of his mouth and wets his lip, the voice catching in your throat as you swear you saw him smirk. you could’ve sworn he caught you; the way you crossed your legs and clenched your thighs together to relieve some of the ache from your core, the way your bottom lip was lodged between your teeth to stifle any moan that threatened to slip, the way your own fingers grabbed onto your sides as you crossed your arms around your body to hold yourself together.

don’t be ridiculous, he’s blind.

a sea of bodies rises from the pews, indicating the end of service. you deflate like a balloon, comfortable disappearing into the crowd and looking forward to relieving your… stress… in the comfort of your own bedroom.

you know it’s wrong, he’s a priest! I have hid thy promise in my heart, that I might not sin against thee. he’s MY priest… but it feels so good to reach that sweet spot when you rub your clothed cunt against the pillow in just the right way, unknowing of what happens after the buildup, wishing it was some part of the man who lead your prayers to help you discover what comes next.

your cheeks burn from embarrassment as you stand, only to find remnants of your arousal and sweat on the pew below.

“Hi.” The voice catches you off guard, causing you to trip over the aisle carpet.

“Careful, there.” His smile is charming as two large hands catch your falling body, the touch lingering on your waist for a second too long.

“S-sorry, Father.” It’s barely a whisper, but he catches your apology, clearly noting the way your heartbeat thunders in your chest.

He can tell you’re blushing by the way your cheeks and ears grow warmer, your skin already slightly damp from the debauchery he had very much noticed before.

His ear turns towards your parents ever so slightly, noticing the quiet laugh your mother is trying to hush- she must be embarrassed or- nervous?

“No need to apologize. I just wanted to see how you all were doing? It’s rare I get a moment to talk to everyone around here!” His smile is radiant as he addresses your family, your breath faltering as he moves his hand to the small of your back.

“Good! We’re all great! Home from college from now,” your mother winks at you, “just enjoying all the ways the Lord has been blessing us!” She’s overly excited as she relishes in the priest’s attention.

“Amen to that.”

Electricity flows from Father Matthew’s fingertips as he lightly grazes the seam of your dress. Your vision seems to blur at the foreign touch, only to be spewed on by the throbbing ache from between your thighs. The conversation is incoherent, your only train of thought telling your body to relax. breathe in, breathe out.

“I’m glad to hear it, it was nice speaking with you!” You take his words as your cue to leave but are halted as your parents take a few steps away.

“Actually,” the way he says your name nearly stops your heart entirely. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in confession?” His lip is upturned in a seasoned smile, one you had recognized before.

“I- um,”

“There’s no pressure, of course. I could just always use the extra practice. Not many people come around anymore, if you can believe that!” You swear you could see the crinkles form around his eye through the red glasses, and you sigh as his hand finally leaves your back.

“Sure. I’m, uh, definitely guilty of that.” As quickly as you relaxed at the absence of his touch, another part of you craved it.

He senses your hesitation, his attuned ears catching the way you crane your neck to scout your parents, only to hide a smile as he can hear your hands flap, shooing away your parents.

“You first,” he motions towards the confessional, vacant gaze trained towards your figure, disappearing into the confines of secrecy.

The wooden bench chills the backside of your thighs as you sit. The silhouette of your priest altered through the grated partition causes your heartbeat to quicken, and you’re suddenly on trial for your sins.

“Bless me, Father Murdock, for I have sinned…” He catches the shakiness in your voice, and the mention of his name causes him to shift his legs in his private section.

“It’s been…” You have to think of how long you had been away at college to remember the last time you’d repeated the phrase. “Four months since my last confession.”

“I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Thank you, Father Murdock-”

“Matthew. You can call me Matthew, if you’d like.” Your cheeks flush at the invitation and he notices, of course he does. Father Matthew… If only he knew how many times that name left your lips in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I, um… I have been struggling lately, Father Matthew.” The weighted confession leaves your mouth causing the crotch of his pants to grow tighter in unholy temptation.

“I have these feelings,” you clear your throat.

“Feelings?”

“Yes. Feelings that sometimes, well,” You’re unsure of how much you’re willing to tell. Granted, the guilt had been eating you alive, but a part of you enjoyed it- enjoyed it the way you enjoyed the feel of him pressing into your back.

“Sometimes they actually turn physical and…” he can tell you’re nervous by the way your cheeks warm and you cross your legs, clenching your thighs together in the process.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or nervous, God honors your honesty, and so do I.” His voice is calm, almost too calm, and eases you into your repentance.

“When do these feelings typically happen?“ he already knew the answer; it was as if he was baiting you, perhaps he was.

He could sense the way you purposefully rubbed your clothed core against the pews while the congregation stood- the hymns hiding the breathy moans that left your lips when you barely rocked forward. He felt the way your lips threatened to wrap around his finger when he placed the bread on your tongue, his attuned ears catching the shakiness of your prayer. He could smell your arousal through the wooden partition as you contemplated your answer.

“They happen often, Father. And I don’t understand them. I’m ashamed, I think.”

“Shame is a heavy burden, but the burden Christ gives us is-“

“Light.” you speak at the same time.

“Exactly. Good girl” Matt catches the breath that becomes lodged in your throat, your pulse beating rapidly as you brush the hair from your face, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. He wants nothing more than to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, helping you to create pretty sounds.

“Tell me, what makes you ashamed of these feelings?” You’re caught off guard at his sultry tone.

“They happen when I do unholy things” Your confession falls on sensitive ears.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Unholy things like…” You don’t even realize your eyes are closed as your fingers caress your thighs, your lower lip hiding a moan as your fingertips brush the hem of your cotton panties. What are you doing?

“Like what you’re doing right now?” Matt noticed the way your concentration had adjusted, and he could sense the pad of your fingertips rub against the thicker seam- your breath falters and your body tenses as you’re caught. His cock throbs in the confinement of his pants.

“None of us are without sin. But I am interested in something.” His voice is raspy.

“Why don’t you show me how you sin?” you feel faint but gasp audibly at his proposal, your core throbbing at the thought.

“Father… I don’t… I”

“Your heavenly father has already forgiven you. May I?” He leans his head closer to the partition, eager to sense your response. You whimper at the thought of pleasuring yourself, fully confessing and at the mercy of the priest, and your fingers brush against your warm cunt, causing you to whisper a moan as you graze the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, so obedient.” he clears his throat. “Do that again for me.”

The pad of your fingertips press into your clit and your eyes flutter shut.

“Good girl,” He notes the way you moan at the praise. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“I feel, I feel dirty.” You do. You really, really do. But you also feel really, really good.

“Dirty is an interesting word to use… tell me where your hands are.”

“They’re on my thighs, Father.” He waits for a moment as he listens for the sound of your soft skin being kneaded, but he finds something else entirely.

“Angel, lying defeats the purpose of confession. Where are your hands?” It’s condescending and almost threatening, and you realize where you’re sitting and who you’re talking to.

It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. But neither of you are willing to stop.

“They’re on my… my…”

“Your pussy?” He growls as he finally palms his hard length while imagining your innocent body responding to his games.

“Yes.” You’re fully clothed but feel naked- exposed.

“Good girl. There’s no shame in pleasure. After all, God created it. Are your thighs spread open?” He knew the answer. He could practically taste the way you coated the booth.

“Yes.”

“I want to ask you something, is that alright?“

“Yes.”

“Have you ever tasted yourself before?” Your stomach lurches at the thought.

“No.”

“Such a shame.” You swear you hear him tsk in disapproval. “Would you like to?”

“Y-yes.”

The curtain of your booth is pulled away quickly, equally catching you off guard. You hadn’t even heard him remove himself from his side, and you certainly weren’t expecting to see the flushed face of your priest as your legs were spread wide open for anyone to see. Truthfully, though, you didn’t care if anyone saw. You were unable to form any other thought, fully surrendering to the desires of your flesh, whatever that meant.

It’s silent for a moment as he stands in front of you, his head turning to perceive your already wrecked state. Heavy breaths fill the small space as anticipation grows. Your back sinks against the hardwood, causing your thighs to spread even further, your clothed pussy peeking out from under your dress in silent invitation. Matt accepts gladly, wishing he could watch the way your eyes grew in size as he lowered himself in front of you.

His hands, the ones you had fantasized about so many times before, shakily greet your calves, the fingers gently teasing against the skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He smirks at the way you moan at the minimal touch, only then wondering how much you had been denying yourself.

“Angel,” his lips press into the inside of your knee. “Have you sinned like this before? With another person?”

You shake your head in response, and Matt can tell the answer by the way your arousal seeps from your panties, but you quickly correct yourself.

“N-no Father Matthew.”

“Such a good girl.” He places another kiss on the opposite knee.

“Oh, Christ!” You exhale as his hands travel further towards your core, his fingers dancing against your thighs, kisses littering wherever he touches. He smiles at your reactions.

Teeth lightly nip at the delicate flesh, and he inhales deeply as his nose practically nudges against where you crave him the most. He sighs into you, his warm breath against your sobbing pussy causing you to moan.

“So responsive,” his thumb traces the inside seam of your white cotton underwear, threatening to please you. “May I?” He faces you, desperately trying to find your eyes.

“Yes.” You whisper, giving permission to something you’re not even sure he’s asking.

The heel of your foot, the hardness of a pew, the softness of a pillow, the texture of a stuffed animal was nothing compared to the way Matt’s thumb caressed your throbbing clit through your panties. You jolted, nearly hitting your head, at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Oh!” His fingers grabbed onto the plump flesh of your thighs just as they held onto the pew, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your bundle of nerves.

“F-father,” You call for him, failing to catch the amusement plastered on his face.

“Hm? How does this feel, sweetheart? You can’t form words to express how you were feeling.

“Good. S-so good. Thank you.” He moans at your gratitude, his member throbbing consequently. His fingers hook into the elastic, patience leaving his body as he desperately needs to taste you.

“Angel, let me make you feel good.” He pleads with a kiss to your panty-cladded cunt. An open mouth moan against your core causes you to reach for him as he denies himself the pleasure of lapping up your taste. “Please, will you let me make you feel good?”

You aren’t sure how it can feel much better than this, but you oblige with ease.

“Please, Father Matthew. Please make me feel good.”

Your underwear fall to your ankles with haste, the air against your wet pussy causing you to shiver. Matt shivers as your arousal floods the tiny space, taunting him to devour you.

“Sweetheart, you tell me if you’d like me to stop, okay?” His fingers find your hand and wrap around your wrist as you give your silent consent.

His warm breath greets you first as you sharply inhale, this will be fun, and he teases you with the flat of his tongue pressing against the entirety of your pussy.

“H-help.” Had he heard you correctly?

“Help? Is everything okay? Would you like me to stop?” His brows furrowed in concern and he loosened his grip.

“No!” You practically shout, the echo hurting his ear slightly. “No! Please. I just… I’ve never felt this and I…” You’re embarrassed to admit you aren’t sure how to feel.

“Relax, angel. I promise I’m going to take care of you, ” He places a small kiss on your thighs. “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore,” he quotes scripture before placing his lips to your clit. You relax into the feeling, unsure of whether it was the familiarity of the words or the satiation of your flesh.

The tip of his tongue runs through your wet folds, sucking lightly to taste every drop, before flicking and circling against your swollen clit. Your moans cause his cock to throb against his thigh as he relishes in your sweetness.

“Fuck,” The profanities surprise you as they’re murmured from below. “Taste so fuckin’ delicious, sweetheart.” Your cheeks flush at the compliment.

“So fuckin’ sweet, just like an angel. My little angel,” His lips wrap around your sensitive bundle of nerves and he sucks lightly, the sound of spit audible to anyone who could pass by. He’s surprised by the way you respond and throw your hands against his head before quickly pulling back in regret.

“It’s okay,” he coos from below. “You can touch me.” You burn with temptation at his invitation and sink back into the wooden frame at an awkward angle, your fingers gently caressing the side of his head.

“Oh, Father.” You attempt to stifle your moan by catching part of your dress in your mouth, but he stops you before it passes your lips.

“Don’t be shy, kitten.” An outreached hand reaches to cup your face, his heart softening at the way you nuzzle into his touch. “There’s nothing wrong with seeking pleasure. Do you need me to help you?” you nod your head against his palm and he grabs your thighs, pulling you closer against him

“There you go, such a good girl. Just like that.” Your head falls back as he laps up your arousal from your leaking hole and places kitten licks against your clit, your moans falling freely.

“God,” you whimper, “that feels so good. I-I like that.”

He continues his ministrations, applying a steady pressure to your sensitive clit as your fingers grip into his hair and your hips lightly rut into him. He growls against your movements, and a wet spot grows visible against his trousers.

“That's it princess,” He moans into you. “Show me what you like. Show me how you like it.” you adjust your hips and lightly grind against his tongue. His grip onto you tightens, surely leaving bruises in return, as he encourages you to grow confident in your motions.

“Please please please” unsure of what you’re asking for as your thrusts grow quicker and more erratic. Matt mumbles a prayer and hums against your clit, causing you to force his face to press into you even more.

“Do that again, please.” you beg for more of the new sensations, his hums vibrating against your most sensitive area. He obliges with haste, silently praying and eager for a taste of your release.

An unfamiliar sensation bubbles within as your priest devours your pleasure. If the idea of the holiest man you knew moaning against your virgin cunt wasn’t enough to bring you to an orgasm, the sounds of your slick and his drool mixing and coating your clit was enough to do so.

“Father, what’s happening?” Your eyes attempt to open, but your lashes flutter at the pleasure. Your chest heaves as Matt brings you to the edge of your first orgasm.

“Just as the Father has washed you from iniquity, let this feeling wash over you, angel.” You’re sure you’ve reached Heaven. Your entire body tenses as you cling onto Matt, holding him against your clit as your orgasm washes over you in waves.

“Oh fuck! Oh Christ!” The muscles in your thighs tremble as they involuntarily close around the priest’s head; he moans as the sweetness of your taste and smell floods his senses. Your body shakes with pleasure and your abs contract with each wash of euphoria.

Your arousal drips from you like honey from a honeycomb, and Matt collects it with the tip of his tongue and spreads it over your clit before sucking gently, causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

“Ouch!” You flinch, “It hurts, Father.”

“If we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.” He recites the verse into your sopping cunt with a last lick, savoring your first sin. You’re surprised as he reaches for your face and brings you forward, your lips pressing into one another with a gentle kiss.

You moan into him, embarrassed that you’re enjoying the simple intimacy and the taste of you. He returns the pleasantry, his tongue tracing your swollen bottom lip before breathing into you a final time; his heart mirrors you at the slight ache.

His lips trail kisses from your face to your neck, stopping at your core while his fingers dip between your folds for good measure, before disappearing behind his lips. He continues his trail of kisses down the length of your legs before pulling your panties in their proper position.

Your legs groan as you finally stand at your full height and marvel at the sight below you. The priest's robes had been abandoned long ago, and he looked oddly human as he knelt below you. Your hand reaches towards him, reaching to hold his face, and he leans into your tender touch. He places an intimate kiss on your palm before standing, awkwardly adjusting the erection in his pants.

“I, um, I can-” He smiles at your offer.

“No, you don’t have to. It’s okay, angel. You did enough today.” You blush at his words, wishing you could run from the impending separation.

You’re surprised as he places a kiss to your forehead before running his hands against your figure, straightening the hem of your dress with precision and a kind smile, the sheen of your arousal still evident on his lip. You return the favor by gingerly adjusting the red tinted glasses and brushing a piece of his hair from his forehead. Your thumb rubs against his lips before disappearing into your mouth.

“Will I see you next Sunday?” He breaks the tender moment.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl.”