#matt murdock fic

[siampie]

Risk and Reward||Chapter 5: Starving

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and Matt are slowly finding your rhythm and you can’t get enough of one another.    

Warnings/tags: fluff, idiots in love, childhood trauma

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter, just enjoy people. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @abbyhaslongshorts, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705;

@ebathory997,

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you

Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo

By the way, right away, you do things to my body

I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you

“It’s not like that.” You sighed into the phone.

“No, no—It is like that.” Amelia retorted. You could picture her shaking her head, in mock disappointment. “Now that you have a boyfriend, you’re abandoning me at lunch time. So, you can eat with him. You’re choosing him over me.”

“Why are you so dramatic? We ate together yesterday.” You groaned as you stepped into the coffee shop, nearest to Matt’s office. “And I wouldn’t call Matt ‘my boyfriend,’ we haven’t decided on labels, yet.”

“What do you mean you haven’t decided on labels, yet?” Amelia questioned.  

You rolled your eyes. You placed your orders, and moved to the side to wait for it. “We have been on only one date so far. So, no, there hadn’t been any talks about labels. We’re just—”

“Ah, young love.” Amelia sighed dreamily. “You know what, I forgive you. Go get your man, Babe.”

“And I’m the weird one.” You chuckled.

You and Matt had been on your first date almost a week ago. And you had not seen much of each other since. Keeping in contact through texts and calls. You had not been able to forget about the feel of his lips against yours. Or his calloused fingers on your skin. Matt did not know you were joining him for lunch. You wanted to keep it a surprise. You only hoped it would be a good one.

You pushed the door to Nelson, Murdock and Page lawfirm opened and was met with a quite busy waiting room. It seemed you couldn’t have chosen a worse day to show up unannounced. The door to Foggy’s office opened as he let out a client. You moved away from the door as Foggy walked his client to the door. He sent a quick smile your way while doing so.

He clasped his hands, grinning at you. “Tell me those are for us?” He said pointing at the paper bag in your hands.

“In fact, they are.” You smiled back at him. “Special delivery of bagels and coffee. I also brought some lunch for you, guys.”

He took the bag from you, opened it and smelled the contents. The tension in his shoulders releasing greatly. “You’re a life saver.”

“Not really.” You chuckled, waving him off.

“Ah, I see. You’re here for your lover boy.” Foggy teased you.

“I was hoping but—I can see you, guys, are pretty busy.” You replied quickly. “I should—leave you to it.” You said your hand moving to the doorknob, disappointed that you didn’t get to see him. “Could you—?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” Foggy pulled you away from the door and into the small kitchen. “I’ll tell Matt you’re here.”

“Foggy, you don’t have to.” You stopped him. “I can come at another time or call him. You don’t need to—”

“You came all this way; you can’t just leave like that.” Foggy said. “I’m sure Matt can spare a few minutes for his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” You repeated.

“Hey,” Karen came to join you in the kitchenette. “I didn’t know you were coming,” She smiled at you.

“I was trying to surprise Matt.” You nodded.

“And she brought coffee.” Foggy said handing her a cup.

“Thank God!” Karen sipped from her cup. “I really needed that.”

“That bad, uh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Okay, I’ll let Matt know you’re here.” Foggy touched your arm briefly. “And then, I’ll go back into the fray.”

“Thanks.” You smiled at him. “See ya.” You turned to Karen; she was savoring her coffee. “Is it always that busy?”

“Not always.” Karen shook her head. “But some days are busier than others.”

“I can see that.” You hummed. “I mean at least it’s good for business, right?”

“Well, it’s mostly pro-bono work;” Karen explained. “But yeah, lately, we’ve had more paying clients.”

“Sweetheart?” Matt stepped in the kitchenette.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes on him. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. His charming smile split his face in two. And you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“Hi, Matthew.” You greeted, his hand already reaching out to you. You placed your hand in his reaching one.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two alone.” Karen resting a hand against Matt’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “And thanks again for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You brought coffee?” Matt questioned.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You placed a cup in his hands.

Matt took a sniff of the coffee. “Thank you, you’re a savior.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just coffee.” You turned to the table. “And lunch.” Matt took a sip. “You can have it as soon as you have a minute to yourself.”

“How did you know that—uh—we—?”

“I didn’t.” You shook your head. “I was just hoping to surprise you for lunch. But I see now that I should have probably called first.” You dropped your gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” His hand went up and down your arm as he stepped closer. “It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you had.”

“Still, I should have called anyway.” You turned your gaze back on his face.

His free hand cupped your face, his calloused fingers ever so gentle. Standing so close to him, his scent wrapped around you. He smelled slightly of salt, much more like sweat, and of cinnamon. You couldn’t decide it was his natural scent or a perfume he wore.

A smile slowly made its way onto his face. “I’m glad you came.” His lips met your cheek in a soft peck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Your own smile mirroring his, once more. Your eyes landed on the people waiting behind him. And cleared your throat. “I should let you get back to work. People are waiting.”

Matt nodded, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. You leant into his touch. “I’m really glad you came.” He said, your hand rested on his wrist. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have lunch together.”

“It’s okay.” You retorted. “We can have lunch at another time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You nodded with a grin.

He put his cup down and pulled you into his arms. His nose buried in the crook of your neck, as yours did his. You inhaled deeply, his scent invading your senses now. Under the stronger fragrances of salt and cinnamon, there was a light touch of leather. You reluctantly pulled away from him.

You spoke. “Talk to you later?”

“Sure.” Matt agreed.

“See you later, Matty.” You smiled at him one last time before walking out.

It wasn’t a total disappointment. Although, you didn’t get to spent your lunch with him, you did get to see him. And that was everything you were truly hoping for.

Your visit had indeed surprised him, in the best way. Since their office had opened that morning, he had not stopped. Between appointments with clients on current affairs, or the new clients coming in for councils, they had not had a minute for themselves. The sweet sound of your voice had eased the tension in his shoulders greatly. He had tried not to rush his appointment with his client but he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend a few minutes with you.

He heard your breath hitched when you laid eyes on him, how your heart had sped up when he stepped closer. He felt how you leaned into his touch. The way you reacted to him never failed to fascinate him. And he couldn’t wait to see how well you responded to his touch and more.

The touch of lavender and citrus in your scent had been stronger. There were traces of salt, in your scent, from your sweating. Breathing in your smell had relaxed him even further. And of course, he couldn’t resist hugging you and burying his nose in your neck. He couldn’t resist breathing more of your scent.

Your scent had lingered long after you left their office. The hints of lavender and citrus had gotten stuck in the small hairs in his nostrils. Each time, he inhaled he could smell you. You had been a welcomed distraction and a small reprieve in this hectic day.

“Matt?” Foggy had called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Matt retorted with a frown.

“So, what do you say?” Foggy asked him.

“About?”

Foggy and Karen glanced at each other smirking. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

“Of course not, Foggy. He’s too busy thinking about our visitor.” Karen joked.

Matt chuckled lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t.” The air shifted around Karen as she nodded, swallowing her food. “It’s a miracle you got any work done after her visit.”

“Speaking the truth as always, Miss Page.” Foggy agreed.

“Is she now?” Matt smirked.

“Look, buddy, I’ve seen you with a lot of women in the past. And God knows there were many,” Karen rolled her eyes at his statement. “But I’ve never seen you smile so much since you met her.” He turned to Karen quickly. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Karen waved him off. “Foggy’s right, though. Looks like you really like her.”

Matt smiled fondly. “I do. A lot, actually.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, buddy.” Foggy slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks Fog.”

“And are you gonna tell her about Daredevil?” Karen questioned cautiously.

“Oof.” He puffed out, leaning back in his chair. “The thought had crossed my mind but—um—I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not now anyway.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning; I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

This relationship was new still. And he did like you but he needed to know you more. He needed to know that he could trust you with his heart. It had been through so much already. So many losses. He needed to be sure about his feelings and yours. If he ever was to tell you about his nightly activities, he needed to make sure you were in it for the long run.

The Devil wasn’t just something he became at night, to fight crimes. The Devil was a part of him. Something he needed to be. And that knowledge alone wasn’t readily accepted by those surrounding him. Knowing all of him had put his friends in danger in the past. Knowing all of him wasn’t safe.  

Would he really share this part of him with you? Was he really willing to risk your safety?

Your attempt to surprise Matt had been a sign, you thought. Maybe, it was too early in your relationship with Matt for this sort of gestures. It was sweet but it might be seen as a sign of clinginess by others. In your past relationships, you either was the one who felt too much or the one who didn’t feel enough. There were no in-betweens for you. In either case, the relationship had ended because of you. You had been broken up with because you were too much. Because you loved too much. And you had broken up with others because you couldn’t feel the sparks. Because you felt nothing but indifference. The relationship just didn’t do it for you. In either case, you were the bad guy.

You did not wish a repeat of this pattern with Matt. You really wanted to know where this thing between the two of you could go. He had not seemed put off by your attempt, you tried to reason yourself. He had actually admitted to missing you. Just as you did him. Maybe, Matt was the kind of person that could feel as intensely as you did. Or at least you hoped so.

His dark frames were laying on the table beside his wine glass. A second date had been set up by Matt within that same week, he had taken you to a small Italian restaurant. The place was buzzing with people; laughing and chattering away. You were both wrapped in the delicious smell of the food.

Matt had looked dashing as always. Your eyes couldn’t leave his face once, especially after he had taken his glasses off. His sightless eyes seemed to always fall somewhere around your collarbone. The conversations ever so flowing between you. And if it did become quiet, it was never uncomfortable. And that was your favorite thing so far with Matt. You didn’t feel as though you needed to say anything to fill the silence. It wasn’t needed. Matt seemed to be content with it, as much as you were.

“You tested it out?” Matt asked you in disbelief.

“Listen, you don’t tell your children that sort of things and hope for the best.” You retorted. “I mean what did he expect?”

“Not for you to try it out, I guess.”

“True.” You nodded. “Anyway, my brothers and I went in the park by our house and decided to do it. We climbed the tallest tree we could. And jumped.”

“And?” Matt smiled at you.

“I can’t speak for my brothers, but I landed on my toes. And didn’t break any bones.” You shrugged. “I’d say my father was right about that one.”

“Realistically, how tall was the tallest tree?” Matt teased you.

“Probably thirty-five feet at least. Forty-five at most.” You replied; “And we didn’t actually climb that high. Still, we were kids and it was really high for us at the time.” You winced at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, that was loud.” You apologized quietly, looking around you nervously.

“Don’t apologize.” Matt shook his head; his smile had shifted into something softer and affectionate. “I quite like the sound of your voice.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You do?”

“I do.” He nodded; leaning his arms on the table. “Your voice always sounds beautiful and—uh—gentle. It’s how I see you. And—um—you have a way to make things easier when it gets too loud.”

Your heart raced beneath your ribcage; your breath caught in your throat. You were totally disarmed by the simplicity and the beauty with which it was delivered. His words were genuine, which you knew by now, was his personality trait. His words made you feel important, they made you feel—

“How do you keep on doing this?” You said under your breath.

“Doing what?” He leaned closer.

“I don’t know, you—uh—you have a way to take my breath away.” You quietly admitted. “To make me feel—seen, somehow.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He questioned.

“No, it’s not—it’s just—uhm—” You paused.

“What?” He encouraged you.

“No one has ever made feel quite like that before.” You let out breathless.  

His smile dropped slightly; and he reached over for your hand, weaving his fingers with yours. “Well, I do. I see you. In my own way, of course but—I see you.”

Being seen meant being important. Matt Murdock was blind. But he saw you, in spite of that. Better than some. And that was why you were more willing to believe him. He had no reasons to lie. Every word coming out of his mouth, complimenting you, were disarmingly honest. Which made it really hard not to get overly attached so quickly. And that was terrifying.

The way you felt about him was something you never quite experienced before. Matt Murdock might have already ruined you. Because you didn’t think you could settle for anything less after this. You didn’t want to.

At the foot of your building, Matt and you were reluctant to part ways. Your arms have found their way around his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist. His nose brushed against yours.

“I really enjoyed tonight.” He whispered while your fingers grazed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Me too.” You smiled, your breath fanning over his lips. “Very.”

He grinned before his lips brushed against yours. Butterflies burst into your stomach; your heart hammered in your chest. You were convinced that Matt could feel it through his shirt. One of your hands travelled down his spine, stopping at the small of his back, pulling him into you. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. His arms tightened around you, his hands moving along your spine. Lingering, as a moan made its way out of his lips. The sound made your heated core ache for more of it, eliciting a groan out of you.

You reluctantly pulled away from him, breathless, his lips chasing yours. “That was—”

“Hot?” He supplied, cupping your face. His fingers grazed the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulsing point.

“Yeah,” You breathed out. “We should probably—”

“Yeah, we should.” His nose brushed yours.

“I don’t—I really want to—" His lips brushed yours briefly. “Believe me,” You exhaled a shaky breath. “But I just don’t want to rush things.”

His mouth connected with yours once again, in a sweet and small kiss. “It’s okay.” He pulled back slightly. “We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere.” His words sounding like a promise.

“Good to hear.”

No woman had truly made him weak at the knees, quite like you had done that night. The smell of your arousal in the air, the way you had pulled him against you. The way you had briefly taken control had left him breathless and wanting more of it. More of this side of you.

Matt considered himself as someone who had the ability to ruin the good things in his life. No matter how hard he tried to protect them, disaster found its way to them. And he didn’t want disaster to find its way to you. He knew he wouldn’t last though. Not if he decided to let you know about the Devil. This could wait however. Most of all, he wanted you to feel safe with him, and to trust him. He’d give you the time you needed.

Friday nights at Josie’s were something you always was looking forward to. Especially if you needed to unwind after a long week. And—you got to spent more time with Matt. There had been a few more dates in the following weeks. Matt and you were starting to find your rhythm with one another. You had not spoken about labels yet but you were fine with it.

Your naked thigh pressed against his, one of his hands had slipped down to rest on your bare thigh. Throughout the night, his hand would affectionately squeeze your leg under the table. You laced your arm with his, pecking his clothed shoulder. You never thought of yourself as a very tactile person. Growing up, your father had not shown affection much. There were no hugs, no kisses. Nothing. So, of course, over the years it had not come easily.  You had thought of yourself as someone who couldn’t stand the touch of another person. And there had been moments when you did recoil at someone else’s touch. Only because you barely knew them, and they did make you uncomfortable. But you would soon find that you were, in spite of your beliefs, a very tactile person.

Or maybe it was simply a consequence of being touch starved. And now you were seeking affections in any way possible. Only if you were allowed to. Not everyone was comfortable with touch. Your sister didn’t like hugs, neither did your best friend. The only way for you to receive a hug from them, was for them to initiate it. Otherwise, they would push you away.

You weren’t afraid to be tactile with Matt. It seemed he was craving the affection as much as you had. A smile always making its way onto his face, anytime you did. As though he was taking pride in your being comfortable enough to do so.

You took a deep breath outside of Josie’s bar. You had a couple of beers in you, feeling slightly tipsy. You said your goodbyes to your friends as you parted ways on the sidewalk. You laced your arm with his as you started towards your apartment building.

“I have a question.” You said after a few minutes. Matt hummed softly, his cane tapping along on the sidewalk. “Are we girlfriend and boyfriend?” You looked up to him.

“Do you want us to be?” Matt questioned, coming to a stop.

You turned to face him and stepped closer, your arms encircling his middle. “Yes. I’d like to introduce you as more than just a guy I’m seeing.” A boyish grin appeared on Matt’s face. “I want you to be my boyfriend. And I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

He cupped your face, looking through you affectionately. “I’d like that too.”

“Yeah?” You grinned, tightening your arms around him.

He leaned down towards you, gently cradling your face as he closed the distance. “Yeah.” His lips met yours in a soft kiss.

“Would you—um, like to stay over tonight?” You asked once you pulled away.

Matt would love for nothing more. He knew what you were hoping for, he wanted the same thing. However, he still needed to go out as Daredevil. Something, you had yet to know about.

“Not tonight.” He said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Oh,”

You felt the pang of disappointment, the sting of rejection. You tried to reason that maybe he wasn’t ready. That he probably wanted to wait for a better time, make it special maybe. You tried to reason that there were no reasons for you to feel rejected. Especially right after you both had agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend.   

“Next time, then?”

“Promise.”

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#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x fem!reader #Spotify

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

enter sandman - m. murdock

a/n: see me personally? never seeing the pearly gates. never ever. not after this one . enjoy. feedback always appreciated ! <3 warnings: guys... where do i fucking start. SMUT. SMUT!!!! GRAPHIC PORN!!!! no plot!!!! degradation!!! dumbification!!!! praise!!!! oral!!! (m recieving) cursing!!!! nicknames!!!! reader is female and has female parts and she/her pronouns!!!!! matt is cocky, mean!dom!matt, the ending is kind of cute, lots of inappropriate use of matts senses, uhhh guys let me know if i missed any because... wow. word count: 4.2k summary: you have a hard time sleeping. the devil has a few games in mind to tire you out. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: enter sandman - metallica "exit light/enter night/take my hand/we're off to never-never land"

You have a horrible habit. Okay, you wouldn’t really consider it to be a habit per say, but you’re not proud of it. You will for it to end.

You can never seem to fall asleep. Staying asleep is easy, but getting there is a problem. Your mind is always racing, which causes you to spiral into a whirlpool of anxieties. You’re too busy thinking about your job, or what you’ll eat tomorrow, or when you’ll be doing your next load of laundry.

But most of all, what keeps you up at night is worrying about the devil. And not in the sense that you’re a holy catholic who wants to repent for her sins, either. Your worry for the devil comes because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

And you worry that one day he will come home damaged beyond repair. Maybe one day he will not come home at all, and you’ll have to hear about it on the news the next morning. It’s a hellish existence, loving the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you make do.

Like tonight—You had baked brownies earlier in the night, and then read your book for the better part of the night. You won’t allow yourself to fall asleep because the possibility of seeing him overwhelms you. But as the hours pass, you begin to lose hope.

And just as you you’re beginning to accept that he won’t be coming to see you and you’re really letting yourself drift, you feel a warm hand on your neck. He’s taken his gloves off tonight. You consider yourself blessed.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, your brain going all fuzzy with even just that bit of contact. You’ve missed him. “Was beginning to think you’d never show.”

But your devil is in no mood for simple pleasantries tonight.

“What have I told you about waiting up for me?”

“Not to?”

“I said,” His hand moves from its gentle place against your neck to grip your chin, “As long as you leave the window open I’ll know to just come in and take what I need.”

Your face flushes, and he grins, because he can tell that he’s making you flustered.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart.” He hums.

“You are.” He shrugs gently. He’s wearing his black suit tonight, and it’s making you feel… a lot of things.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Damn him.

“Nothing!”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, and you lean up to try and kiss him further, but he pulls away, his grip returning to your chin, to keep you just centimeters away. The devil is an expert at reading you, despite his lack of sight. He has developed the habit of studying you, and knows that as of late, you’re not allowing yourself the pleasure of sleeping. He knows it’s because you’re so anxious and worried about every little thing, so tonight.. He intends to fix it. Or at least, maybe come up with a temporary solution.

“Liar.” He whispers and moves away further. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me.”

Your devil is many things, but he does not bluff. He has this will of steel.

“I prefer it when you wear the black suit,” You tell him, “It’s not very protective, I know. But you look good in it.”

He makes a noise of realization, before moving his hand to slip under the hem of your shirt, resting his hand on your stomach. You shiver a bit, his hand warm against your skin. That’s what you get for wearing a tee shirt and shorts to bed every night, he’d tell you.

“That’s my smart girl.” Your heart flutters. “Mm, you really like that huh?”

“You’re awful.” You always pretend to hate how he reads you, but secretly, although you suspect he knows it, you love that someone knows you so well. He grins and his hands move again, this time picking you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “Hey! Not cool, we talked about picking up when we have no warning—” You cut yourself off with a grunt when he tosses you onto the bed.

“Shut up.”

He hears no objections.

Just as quickly as you’re thrown on the bed, he is above you, mask still on, kissing your neck.

“Wanna play a game, sweetheart?” He asks, hands on your hips, his fingers creeping up the hem of your shirt. You shiver again, and he just grins “You can answer.”

“Sure. I like games.” Your voice is meek, too busy enjoying all the contact with him. He hums softly.

“I know you do, and you’re just so good at them.” You grin against his skin as he kisses your cheek. “See that? That’s what I want to know.” You’re a bit lost.

“Know what?”

“I want to know what turns you on more— praising you or degrading you.”

What a fun game to play with a human lie detector.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s play.” You confirm. He kisses you quickly.

“Good girl.” You hum softly, but it isn’t quite what he’s looking for. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but he’s after more. “Tell me about your day, baby.” He continues to plant kisses along your skin. You know this isn’t a request but rather a requirement of the game.

“Well, I had work today, then I had to stop at the grocery store. I made dinner and—” You’re cut off by a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck, because you can’t help but let out a gasp of pleasure.

“What? A few kisses and you’re already turning dumb for me?” You shudder softly, your heartbeat steadily increasing. The deep cadence of his voice paired with his words make you want to just melt. “Oh, there she is..”

He lets go of your arms for just a moment to slip your shirt off.  Then, your hands are back above your head, held down by his grip. He moves on from your neck and begins to kiss down.

“I like this game.” You manage out, and he chuckles.

“I know you do. You know how?”

You think about it for a moment before you answer. You want to be right.

“You can hear my heartbeat?”

“And I can smell you. You like this a lot. More than you like me?” He continues to kiss down your torso.

You don’t answer for a second. He bites your skin gently, prompting you to answer.

“No.” You answer, “No, I don’t like anything.. anyone more than you.”

He kisses the spot where he bit softly.

“Even smart girls need to be reminded sometimes.” Is all he says before he continues to kiss you. You try to hide it, try to hide your reaction to the words, but he grins against your skin.

“Matt..” you groan out softly because his kisses have stopped.

“What?”

“Why’d you stop?” You whined.

“You’re my smart girl, why don’t you tell me?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it because you can’t? Do you like being dumb for me, smart girl?” You want to defend yourself, but he bites your skin again.

“Yes!” you respond, and he does the same thing he did before—He kisses where he bit.

“Good girl.” He responds. “I like making you dumb just from a few kisses anyways.” He tells you, finally reaching your stomach with his kisses. “I love my dumb little smart girl.” The cadence he has to his voice makes you whine again. He knows every part of you, even the parts you never wanted to tell him about. He’s just too observant. “I love that despite how well behaved and good you are, you’re dumb enough to be talked down to like this, by some strange man who just crawled through your window.”

You answer before you can think about it. You’re smart enough to know that he’s at least half right.

“You’re not just anyone, you’re my Matt.”

“Your Matt?” He hums. “Your Matt, My ditzy smart girl.” He grins, before placing one last kiss right above the waistline of your shorts.

He moves so he can kiss your lips again, kissing you quick before pulling off his mask so you can see his face. He has a cut on his forehead and a bruise forming on his cheek. It’s clear he had a good night though, or else this wouldn’t be happening.

“Your face..” You frown, concern in your voice.

“Observant and smart?” He teases, kissing your forehead. “What happened to wanting to be dumb for me?”

You’re almost embarrassed of it now.

“You’re being mean.” You say quietly.

“Mean? Me? To my best girl?” He kisses you quickly again. “Never.” He hums. One of his hands goes down to your thigh, his fingertips inching up.

“Never.” You echo.

“What do you say, smart girl?” He asks, “Wanna play a few more games? See just how desperate I can make you?”

You huff at his words, your brain short circuiting to the point where you speak before you can really think.

“I just want you to fuck me!”

He stops just as he’s about to pull off your shorts and slithers back up so the pair of you are face to face.

“First of all,” he places a kiss to your lips gently, “You are not in a position to be making demands, pretty girl. Second,” He kisses you again, “Such a foul mouth for such a dumb baby,” You let off a soft whine, and he has the audacity to mock your whine, “I know, it’s not much of a lecture when you like when I talk to you like this,” He hums. “And third, I know you’re smarter than to be a brat.” He says gently, kissing you again.

“I’m not a brat.” You whine, and again, he mocks you before devolving into a deep chuckle, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.” He says, with a grin on his face.

He’s gentle with you for a few moments, softer. You decide that now is your chance, and if you don’t act now, you’ll spend the rest of your night under his thumb. So, you flip over and have him under you, as you sit on his lower stomach. His hands come up to the back of your thighs.

“I’ve got you now, Devil.” You grin, leaning in to kiss him. But before you can, he’s flipping you back over, keeping you pinned by your legs.

“Brat.” he accuses, leaning in to kiss you again. You huff. “Easy, pretty girl, your attitude is getting the best of you.”

You frown and turn your head when he goes to kiss you.

“Tell me I’m not a brat and I’ll kiss you.” You demand, and he grins, but this time it isn’t soft. It’s almost wicked. He grabs your chin roughly and tilts your head towards him, before kissing you roughly.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Come on, smart girl, I know you remember.”

“That I was in no position to make demands?”

“That’s right.” He coos, “Now, baby, do you want to hear what I had planned for you tonight?”

You must admit, you’re very curious.

“Sure, Matty.” His grin widens.

“Well, I was planning on playing this little game with you, then eating you out until your thighs are shaking,” You let out a whine, but he just shushes you softly, “Sh, sh, sh… You wanted to hear, so listen.” He hums. “Then, I was going to fuck you until you were full of my cum.” He tells you.

Then, he lets out a disappointed sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That was what I was planning on, but because you decided to be a brat, I have a new plan.”

“I liked that plan so much though..”

“I know, Sweetheart, me too.. But you’re the one who ruined it.” He reminded, leaning in, and biting your jaw between his fingers. His hand positioning is not exactly choking, but the grip is tight enough to leave marks. He feels you grind your hips up a bit, and chuckles again. “Smart girl, already figuring out what’s next.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but before you know it, he’s repositioning you so you’re in his lap at the edge of the bed. He pats your thigh gently.

“Get up for me, Honey. Then you got to take your shorts off for me.” You do as you’re told, no longer interested in fucking up his plans. Then, he pulls you back onto his lap, and he hums gently. You decide to take a risk and bring your hands up to his jaw, and then up towards his mask.

“Please?” You ask gently. “Wanna see you..” He nods softly, letting you pull off his mask, as his head tilts to the side to kiss your palm.

“You remember who’s in charge, right, sweetheart?”

“You, devil.”

“That’s right, angel.” He praises, “And that’s why you’re going to ride my thigh.” You let out a soft whine, and he shakes his head, “No, no whining from you, sweet girl. You wanted to be a brat, so you gotta reap what you sew.”

He holds your hips as you begin to grind against his thigh, and Matt focuses on the way your breathing hitches as you rub against his thigh. Your hands grip his shoulders as he begins to kiss your neck again.

Your skin burns with need, and your hips roll faster as your breath speeds up, and slowly, minute by minute, you’re edging closer to your release. But he knows you’re close to coming undone not only because of how your skin is hot, and your breath is airy, but because you’re making such a mess.

You’re definitely staining his pant leg with your wetness, because after his insatiable teasing, you’re just desperate for him, and oh so sensitive. The speed of your grinding increases, and then, because he wants to see you break, he starts to bounce his leg up so that in addition to your grinding, it’s overwhelming you.

“Matt,” you say, breathlessly. “Matt, please..”

“Please what, smart girl? What do you want?” He’s really going to make you ask for it. This is all part of his game.

“Please..” You start, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, can I come?”

“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, now he’s being a fucking dick. You know he can hear you, with his damned super senses. Nonetheless, you pick your head up and manage to get it out.

“Please let me come,” You beg, and he laughs.

“You know what’s funny, baby?” You let out a whine. “You’re so smart, always holding the world on your shoulders, and yet.. A little bit of teasing and riding my thigh, and you can barely get a sentence out.. You’re being so good for me, baby. So good at following orders,” He bites your neck. “So, go ahead and come for me, sweet girl.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, you’re letting go, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. You moan into his ear, his hands on your side to keep you stable as you come undone. He keeps bouncing his leg to have you ride out your high as your legs begin to shake. You’re making all of these pretty noises for him, and the smell of your juices are overwhelming for him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, kissing you softly. He’s back to being rather gentle with you. But his cock is incredibly hard against his pants, and he needs to feel you clench around him. “Can my pretty baby ride my cock?” You’re shaking but you nod gently.

He knows you’re verging on the edge of being unable to do much else, but he wants to see how far he can push you. So, he pats your leg again and you stand up. His hands come up to undo your bra and pull off your panties.

He holds them in his hands for a moment, breathing in deeply as your scent continues to overwhelm him. He wastes no more time, pulling off his shirt and then starting to unbuckle his black pants. On instinct, you’re on your knees, with this.. primal desire to suck him off.

He takes a deep breath, his hand going to your hair and pushing your hair from your face. You lean into his touch, smiling softly up at him. He knows how much you like just thoughtless sex—You value long, intimate nights too, but after a long week, you need to shut off your brain and he needs to take control.

“Wanna suck my cock first, baby? You’re so good for me..” He says softly, slipping down his boxers.

“Just wanna be good for you,” You hum, eying his glistening hardness. You can’t deny that he looks truly crafted by the hands of God—Most of his body is glistening with sweat, cock glistening with precum. He is heavenly and the only thing you’ll ever want to worship.

“You’re so good for me. My dumb little smart girl.” The name form earlier makes you weak, as you lean in and begin to lick his tip. His hand grips your hair as he inhales sharply. “Careful, sweetheart.” He tells you, beginning to guide you in sucking him dry.

His hand guides you as your head bobs against his cock, the taste of him turning your brain further into mush. He makes sure to guide you at a steady pace, moaning out praise, and occasionally degradation.

“So fucking good for me,” He gasps out, “My good little girl.. Sucking my cock so good—Ah, fuck..” He gasps as you quicken your pace. “Sucking me like the little slut you are..” You moan against cock at that, and he gasps, before it devolves into a low chuckle. “And you like it, too.. Being called my little slut.. Good little slut, just for me.. Got you trained so well..” He holds on for a few more moments before he comes into your mouth, panting softly.

His cum dribbles down your chin as you swallow most of it, so his hand comes up to your chin to gently wipe the dribble off before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

“Every last drop for me, angel.” He requests. You happily suck on his thumb for a few moments while he recovers. Then, he leans down and picks you up, resting you on the bed again. “Now you’re gonna ride me, right, pretty?”

“Mhm..” You smile, and as soon as he lays back on the bed, you’re on top of him. His cock slides against your folds and you whine a bit, just desperate for the feeling of him filling you up. “You know how badly I want your cock..” He grins at this.

“You have it, angel. Just gotta ride me, okay?” You hum in response. You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, taking a few minutes to adjust to the size of him. But your slow pace is not quick enough for Matt, whose hands find your hips (for the millionth time tonight) and quickly slides his entire length into you.

You moan loudly, a feeling of pain and pleasure blurring together as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Matt, fuck,” You whine, wanting to take a second to catch your breath.

“Color?” It’s a safe word system—He knows he might have taken it a tad too far, pushing into you like that.

“Green,” You promise.

“Okay, good.” He leans up and kisses your forehead gently, a sign of the gentleness that resides in his demeanor despite just how into his dominate behavior you are. He begins to roll his hips, and revels in the sound of the pretty screams coming out of your mouth as he begins to pound into you. “I’ve got you fucked dumb, baby? Can’t even ride my cock properly?” He asks, pulling you in to kiss your skin.

“No,” You protest, “I can do it,” It comes out whinier than you wanted it to—Much whinier, but you can’t deny that he’s wrong about that first part. Your brain is blurry in the best way. He hums in approval before gently pushing you away from his lips.

“Prove it, then.” He demands, and his hips are no longer bucking into you. Instead, you shakily begin to bounce against his cock, using his moans and gasps as guidance. His hands grip your thighs as you ride him. “There you go, angel. It’s not too much for you, right?” He hums.

“No!” You protest again, “No, Sir, I can take it,” He grins at the slip of the title. He swats the side of your thigh, rubbing it softly after you yelp, but it quickens your pace. His brain is beginning to fog too, so he knows he wants to get a few more comments out.

“Fucking liar,” he laughs, “Even when your.. fuck..” He gasps, the feeling of you clenching around him overwhelming him. “When you’re bouncing on my cock and moaning for me, you’re still lying..” His one hand travels to play with your clit, rubbing small circles into it. “So,” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, before picking his head back up. “I’ll ask you again.. Is it too much for you, my ditzy girl?”

Tears prick your eyes, as you will your brain to come up with a comprehensive answer.

“Yes!” You admit, “it’s too much,” You pant, but because you don’t say ‘red’ he keeps going.

“Aw, I know, honey,” He plants a soft kiss to your lips, the hand that isn’t rubbing circles into your clit coming up to brush sweaty hair from your face. “But you can take it. Come on, sweet thing, I know..” He hums. “Come for me, baby..”

And you do—You come hard, your vision going white for a fraction of a second as you let out these angelic noises. He doesn’t give a damn about noise complaints right now, all he can focus on is the smell of your sweat, your cum, and your pretty little noises.

You continue to rock your hips, wanting to feel his cum fill you up. And after a few more minutes, your wish comes true, as he grips your hip tightly with one hand as he comes deep inside you, as you roll your hips just a few more times, riding the last waves of a euphoric high.

His chest is heaving as you slump down against his chest. The pair of you are sweating, but he still looks so beautiful like this. His cock still fills you, his cum deep within you. His hand gently runs up and down your back,

“How’s my sweet girl doing..?” He’s afraid he went too far with you, hoping his words didn’t push you into a bad headspace. It’s happened before, where you just needed time to come back to reality. But tonight, you’re exhausted in a whole new way. You’re happy that you’ll actually be able to sleep.

“I’m good,” You promise. You’re sweaty, out of breath and completely fucked out of your mind.

He takes your jaw in his hand and tilts your head up so you’re looking in his general direction.

“You know I don’t really think you’re dumb, right?” He just needs to make sure.

“I know,” You giggle, “But it’s pretty hot in the moment. Besides, you took care of me.”

He grins and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He promises. You know he means it, too. Your Matty, always taking care of you. “You know you don’t need to worry about everything, right? You don’t have to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I know,” You start, “But you’re always so busy with the firm, and being Daredevil, and—” He hushes you softly.

“I am never too busy for you.” He says gently. “I know I can’t do your job for you, but I can be more careful and help with dinner, you know.” He just wants you to be less stressed all the time, the hypocrite.

“Okay.” You say gently. “Thank you, Matt.” He holds you close and places a soft kiss to your head.

“You’re still shaking,” He says gently, “But you need to shower.” He says softly, moving now so that he can carry you to your bathroom. You whine at the feeling of emptiness you’re left with when he slides out of you, and he just laughs. “I know, Baby, I know.”

Matt is just a general fan of taking care of you. Even when you’re fucked out of your mind like you are right now. You love that about him.

You love that the devil is so devoted to you. It stirs something deep inside you that you can’t quite voice. Matt knows it, too.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock smut #dom!matt murdock #marvel smut #rough kink #never seeing the pearly gates #no plot

[chvoswxtch]

hi um so this is like my first time making a request, like ever. I’m not even sure if this is where I’m supposed to put a request. So I’m really nervous but this idea has been in my head for weeks and I need it to be brought to life? Idk but can I request Matt Murdock with a sort of shy reader? Where he tells her about his abilities and daredevil and everything (established relationship) and she doesn’t really care as long as he’s safe but she has something in her mind and he notices and keeps asking and basically she has a question about his senses, specifically his taste and idk if you know but Matt can canonically know ALL of the ingredients of anything just from a taste and she basically wants to make him taste a bunch of stuff and tell her the ingredients of it so she can make them? I know this is probably WAY too specific so feel free to completely ignore this, I just wanted to get it out.

hi my darling!

so I actually read this request right before going to the grocery store, and while I was looking through produce, it made me think about how matt would absolutely know which produce was the freshest and which ones to avoid. I kinda mixed that in with your idea about being able to tell exactly what ingredients were in something, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for! <3

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and matt being a lil shit word count: 1.3k

lemons.

“Not that one.”

You hand instantly stilled over a lemon that your fingertips had already grazed over. Glancing at Matt over your shoulder, a crease formed between your brows while you looked back down at it.

“What do you mean? This one is perfect-”

“It’s not ripe enough.”

“But…it’s so yellow, like sunshine yellow.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s lips when he felt the way your own pursed into a bit of a confused pout. It was something you always did when you were intensely focused on something, and he found it endearing. Reaching his hand out, he used the pad of his thumb to smooth away the furrow that had creased in the middle of your forehead, and his soft smile curled up into a light smirk catching the flush of heat that immediately coursed through the tops of your cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a very pretty lemon, but it doesn’t taste ripe.”

Ever since Matt had told you the truth about his vigilante identity and his abilities, you’d had countless questions. You wouldn’t voice them at first, almost as if you were afraid to cross some invisible boundary that Matt might have, but he knew you, and he knew how to dismantle that shy exterior of yours. From the moment the two of you first met, you had been overly polite and accommodating about his disability, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. You didn’t walk on eggshells around him or call any extra attention to his blindness. In fact, the way you interacted with him was so seamless, it was almost like it came second nature.

If you guys were grabbing coffee with Karen and Foggy, you would automatically place the raw sugar packets within his reach because you knew he preferred it to the artificial sweeteners. If the four of you went to check out a new lunch spot, you always called ahead to check if they had a menu in braille and made sure Matt was given one. There were so many little things you did to make him feel included and normal. It was part of why he fell so hard for you.

You never asked about the origin of his blindness, and even after he opened up and told you about his accident, you were reserved with your questions. He could tell you were curious, and he wanted you to ask. He wanted you to know things about him. You were a bit of a wallflower, and Matt could always feel you silently observing him, but he wanted you to understand him. He quickly realized he would have to flat out grant you permission to be nosey, and so he did.

Out of everyone he had revealed his Daredevil secret to, you had taken it the best. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the surprise of just how well you handled it. You didn’t get angry or yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar or a traitor, or ask him if he was faking his blindness; all reactions he expected. You just sat there in pure confusion, and you were silent for so long, Matt was panicked that he’d sent you into a state of shock. When it finally settled in that it wasn’t a joke, your brows knit together, and Matt could feel the way your face contorted into an expression of irritation when you flat out asked him if he was crazy. The memory of that night never failed to make him smile.

“Um…well, I mean…not in the traditional sense-”

“Matthew, what the hell are you thinking running around on rooftops, going after guys with guns and knives with…sticks? How do you even do that?”

“They’re batons, actually. Look it’s hard to explain, but I have heightened senses that help me-”

“Are those super senses going to keep you out of prison? Because that’s where you’re going if you get caught. What was the point of going hundreds of thousands of dollars into debt for law school if you were just going to wind up a prison cell for doing backflips off buildings in your underwear?”

“Heightened senses. And it’s not underwear. Underwear is comfortable.”

There hadn’t been a hint of anger in your voice. Annoyance, sure, but mainly concern. All you wanted was for Matt to be safe, and he did his best to assure you that he would be. Matt went into as much detail as he could to help you understand his abilities, and the more comfortable you got with asking him things, the more you learned.

Like how he could tell exactly what ingredients were in the lemon bread at the cafe down the street from your apartment that you loved so much, which was currently the reason behind your little trip to the store at the moment. All it took was one bite of the bread, and he knew exactly how to replicate it.

Apparently he could also tell when lemons were at their peak.

Reaching into the pile of lemons, Matt grasped the one that was in perfect condition to him and held it out towards you. Taking the lemon in your hand, you gave it a light squeeze, noticing that it was firm to the touch but easily gave into the gentle force of your fingers testing its density. 

“Feel the rind.”

Following Matt’s instructions, you brushed your thumb along the bright yellow rind. It was smooth to the touch, and somewhat glossy as it nearly reflected the brightness of the overhead lighting in the grocery store. 

“It’s shiny.”

Matt chuckled at your response and lightly nodded his chin in your direction.

“What else?”

“It’s smooth.”

“It’s perfectly ripe. The zest on this one is the freshest. It has the most flavor, and the right amount of juice.”

Arching one of your brows, you stared up at Matt curiously while still faintly squeezing the lemon in your hand.

“You can tell how much juice is in this just by touching it?”

A grin stretched across Matt’s lips, showcasing his dazzling teeth and causing indents to appear in his cheeks. His thick brows rose slightly above the rim of his crimson glasses.

“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“No I’m just…still trying to figure out how you do…what you do.”

A bashful twinge of heat coated your cheeks once again, and Matt thought it was adorable that you diverted your attention back to the lemon shyly to avoid his gaze even though he couldn’t see your reaction. He reached out to tenderly brush his knuckles along the warmth in your cheeks while he smiled in your direction. 

“I’ll try to do better at explaining. Now c’mon, we have more ingredients to get. You know, I think this bread is gonna turn out so well, the one at the cafe might not meet your standards anymore.”

The confidence in Matt’s voice caught your attention, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Sometimes you forgot that your boyfriend was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that everyone was so afraid of. If only they knew that he spent his Saturdays sniffing out ingredients at the grocery store like a bloodhound to help his girlfriend recreate the recipe for her favorite lemon bread.

“You know, if you didn’t love law so much, you could’ve made out like a bandit in a baking competition.”

“Oh I would’ve won with my sob story of being a blind little Catholic orphan alone.”

“Matthew!”

Matt snickered at the disbelief in your tone, but he could also detect the way the edges of your lips twitched, like you weren’t sure if you should laugh at that or not. Snaking his arm around your waist, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead and gently nudged you in the direction towards the spice aisle.

“Come on, we need flour.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

[bunmurdock]

just working | matt murdock x f!reader

summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind. tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love. word count: 1.9k a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭

“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.

“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.

you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.

“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”

"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.

"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.

"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance. 

"i’m always serious,” you retort. 

he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.

“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.

"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.

“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.

"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.

foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.

matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.

"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face. 

“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”

"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”

“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.

you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.

you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.

he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.

“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.

as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?” 

a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.

“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.

it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.

after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps. 

cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.

“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.

you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.

“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”

you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.

“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.

“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.

you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.

he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.

“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.

“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest. 

“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.

“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.” 

“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.

“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.

“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”

you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”

“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”

you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his. 

“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”

“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.

you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings. 

it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.

he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.

you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you. 

~

you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.

“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”

"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.

matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.

matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."

you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.

“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.

hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #bun’s #bunny brain

[petertingle-yipyip]

DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own//

The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.

You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.

You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.

You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.

Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.

“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”

“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.

“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.

“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”

“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”

“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.

“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”

“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”

“What?”

“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”

“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.” “You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”

A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.

“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.

The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.

Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.

You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.

“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”

“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.

“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”

“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”

She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”

“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.

Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.

“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I couldn’t focus.”

You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.

“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.

“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”

“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”

He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.

“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”

“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”

You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.

“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.

“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”

“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”

“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.

“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.

“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”

“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”

You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.

“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.

“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”

“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”

“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair. 

“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.

“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”

“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.

“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”

#matt fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #marvel matt murdock #matt murdock mcu #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x yn #matt murdock x wife #husband matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil imagine #mcu daredevil #netflix daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fluff #marvel daredevil

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Irritated

Matt Murdock x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ | 2.2K

Summary Cooking for Matt goes all wrong and your insecurities come out.

Warnings smut, oral (f receiving), angst with a happy ending

A/N First time writing for Matt. The perfectionism was strong with this one - this has been sitting for months and I'm finally posting.

~~~

The cloud of smoke is quickly filling the apartment. You had turned the burners off, but the charred mass in the skillet is still sizzling. You crank the vent hood fan on high, and open a window. It isn’t enough.

—

As he’s racing home across the rooftops, the smell singes his nostrils. His body is exhausted but it gives him a dose of adrenaline before he realizes that it’s not a fire, just a burnt dinner.

Dinner? At this time of night?

That’s when it dawns on him. The smell is coming from his apartment. Maybe it’s my neighbor, he hopes with half-hearted optimism. With the way his night has gone, he doesn’t think he’ll get that lucky.

—

You’re fanning the smoke out of the window, using one of Matt’s law document tomes in Braille, when you hear the door to the roof. You speed up your fanning, as if that will in any way remove the smell from the apartment.

His footsteps are on the steps now and you turn to apologize — with some self-deprecating humor to relieve your anxiety — when you catch the irritation on his face. Cautiously, you say, “I’m sorry about the smoke. I was just trying to cook and I don’t know what—”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off with words a little too flat and forceful to be sincere.

That familiar feeling washes over you. You had expected it to happen sooner or later, and here it was. He was finally figuring out that you were more trouble than you were worth.

He tosses his mask on the chair and yanks off his gloves, his mood infecting every motion. Without another word to you he retreats to his room and closes the door behind him.

—

From the other side of the door, Matt catches the way your breath hitches, hears you gather your things and walk out. He wants to stop you but the devil still has a hold on him and he knows he could only make things worse now.

He knew this would happen sooner or later. He knew he’d drive you away. Took longer than he thought it would. He tells himself the smart thing to do would be to let you go. Just let it end here.

But he hears your footsteps on the pavement outside. You’re walking home instead of taking a cab. He throws a shirt and pants on over his suit, and chases after you.

—

You only make it a block before he walks out of the shadows and strolls along next to you, not even winded from catching up.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You could get hurt.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, resentfully even. If he’s there out of real concern for you, rather than a sense of duty, he doesn’t show it. You say nothing to that and he doesn’t speak again.

The walk seems to take longer under the weight of the silence between you. When you finally get to your building’s door, you unlock it quickly and step inside. You don’t even look at Matt as you push the door closed behind you. But before it can latch, he catches it.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I’m sorry about the way I— the way I acted. It had nothing to do with you. I had a shitty night and I should’ve cooled off before coming home.”

When he puts it like that, it makes you seem unreasonable. Softly, apologetically, you say, “No, you should get to cool off in your own home.”

The words you’re not saying hang in the air between you but you feel too foolish to speak them so instead you stand there in the doorway, picking at your nails, looking down at them instead of him. He reaches out and stills your fidgeting, his warm hand enveloping both of yours. “What is it, sweetheart? Will you talk to me, please?”

Your first instinct is to lie, but the way he subtly turns his ear to you lets you know he’s listening to your heartbeat. Your pulse picks up just from knowing he’ll know if you lie.

You let out a sigh. “I just— I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

His brows furrow and he lifts his chin. You wait for him to prompt you but he’s going to keep silent until you tell him everything. He’s stubborn like that.

You remind yourself that he actually wants to know. He’s asking you for the truth. You take a deep breath, gearing up for an act of trust, and you let it all spill out. “All I do is make everything worse. I mean, I don’t bring anything to this relationship. But I thought maybe I could make you a nice meal. Then I’d be good for something. And that blew up in my face. Almost literally.”

A thick silence follows and you think he must be struggling and failing to dispute anything you’ve said. But you realize you’ve read it all wrong when he says in a quiet and deadly voice, “You think you don’t bring anything to our relationship?”

That voice — his devil’s voice — never fails to light a fire inside you. The sudden heat on your skin makes the night air feel that much cooler, and you shiver. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, taking in all the ways your body has reacted to him.

He steps forward into your building, and you step back. “It seems I haven’t properly showed you how important you are to me.”

As he advances, you back down the hallway. You can’t take your eyes off his face. The naked desire, the grim determination, the devil stalking his prey. You nearly collide with the staircase banister, but he gently guides you out of the way with a hand on your hip. One he doesn’t remove until you get to your door.

He plucks the keys from your hands and feels for the right one before quickly unlocking your door. It swings open but you both stand at the threshold.

“Matt,” you begin. As much as your body is begging for him, you feel guilty that the whole situation got turned around. You were trying to prove something to him and now he’s the one putting in the effort. Again. “I just feel like I haven’t yet earned your love.”

He hangs his head, exhaling his frustration. “First of all, you don’t need to earn my love. Secondly, if you even think for one second that you don’t deserve it, then I’ve failed you.”

“No, stop! I’m the one who fucked up, okay?” You storm past him into your apartment. He follows you inside, shutting the door behind him.

He draws in a breath to say something, but thinks better of it. He nods and says simply, “Okay.”

It’s the way he gives in that has you on alert. He never just gives in; he’s planning something.

“Make it up to me, then,” he tells you.

“How?”

“Take off your pants.”

“Matt—”

“I said, take off your pants.”

“That can’t be all I’m good for.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you we will find a way for you to feel deserving in this relationship. But right now, let me surround myself with your scent so I can get this smoke out of my nostrils.”

How were you supposed to think straight when he says things like that to you? You really wanted to give him what he wanted, but it didn’t feel right. “Well then that’s just you doing something for me again and I still can’t give you anything.”

He flashes that grin he uses during cross-examination when he’s about to tear the prosecution’s case to shreds. “You wanted to feed me. Now let me eat.”

—

You don’t know how he does it. But as soon as you stopped protesting, he had you naked with your ass at the edge of the couch and him kneeling in front of you.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says in a low, soft voice. You do as he says. He takes one deep breath and whines, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. “I can already taste you.”

He starts on your thighs, pressing kisses from your knee to the hinge at your hip all along the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel the heat of his breath pass over your cunt before he kisses his way down to your other knee.

He’s doing it on purpose. Taking his time and lavishing you with kisses. Giving again. The guilt washes over you. “Matt—”

He shushes you just as the pad of his thumb brushes at your entrance, collecting your slick before sliding up to your clit. Your eyes roll back into your head and your words die on your lips. He applies just the right amount of pressure as he works circles over your sensitive nub. You whimper at his touch and he gives a satisfied hum in response.

It feels so good yet it’s not enough. “Matty, please.” Your voice is barely even a whisper but he hears you loud and clear. He lifts his thumb to his lips, moaning as your taste hits his tongue at last.

You expect to feel his mouth on you but instead he brings his hands together and says, “Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts—”

“Matt—”

His name is no sooner from your mouth than his lips wrap around your clit, and you cry out from the pleasure. His skilled tongue slides through your folds and dips into your entrance. You clench around nothing, pushing more of your juices onto his greedy tongue. You don’t have to worry about making a mess on the couch. He’d never let one drop of you spill.

You honestly don’t know which of you are making more noise. He’s so vocal even with his mouth as busy as it is. He grunts and moans with every exhale, and every inhale is a heavy intake through his nose — when it’s not pressed into you.

Your hand, outstretched at your side, grips a throw pillow, the stuffing clumped beneath your palm, your fingers wrinkling the fabric. Matt clamps his hand over yours — while his tongue continues swirling — and guides you to the crown of his head. You grip a fistful of his hair and instinctively pull him even tighter to you.

His moans muffle but grow more desperate. In truth, you try hard not to make more sound than your breath, just to catch every unhinged noise of his.

You’re so close now. You can’t help but raise your hips a bit, humping his face as his tongue works you over. The vibration of his growl sends you over the edge. No matter how quiet you’ve been trying to be, the force of your orgasm rips pleas from your lips. “Matty…fuck! Oh, Matty, hngh…”

As you come down from your high, you loosen your grip on his hair and he slowly pulls away from you. You take in the sight of him. A bit of his Daredevil suit peeks beneath his shirt. His hair is mussed, hairline damp with sweat, and his mouth and chin are coated with you. He licks his lips and smiles and it’s totally unfair how pretty he is just like this.

You let your head fall back, your breathing slowly returning to normal. But the drop in your heart rate coincides with the rise of your thoughts, and the feelings of guilt, shame, unworthiness. You don’t know why you can’t just accept his love. But no matter how much you try to trust that he means what he says, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve fooled him somehow. And he’s going to wake up one day realizing his mistake.

Almost as if he can read your thoughts —

“Sweetheart, if you need me between your legs to chase away your thoughts, I’m more than happy to be of service, but it’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with it.”

“Matt Murdock’s lecturing me on what’s healthy.”

“I know. I know.” He gives you that wide smile. So comforting that it’s impossible to feel anything but warmth when he smiles at you like that. Then he gives your thigh a little smack and says, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

—

Later, while you’re laying in bed together, his body cradled around yours, you’re both too tired to continue the conversation you know you need to have, a conversation of the ongoing variety. In the quiet and the dark you both feel your insecurities rise. Matt is pretty sure he’ll end up driving you away. You’re pretty sure he’ll realize you aren’t as great as he thinks and leave. But both of you really want this to work and you’re both willing to work on it.

Your thoughts hazy, your breath becoming rhythmic, you speak into the dark. “I don’t have to cook for you, you know. Like if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”

He hums in response, sleep nearly stealing his ability to speak. “If you want to… then I want that…too. But you don’t have to. But you can. You can use my kitchen whenever you want. If you want.”

You’re both quiet again and you nearly fall asleep then he says, “Just not for a few days. Let the smoke clear. ‘M staying at yours til then.”

#matt murdock fic #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock smut

[bellaxgiornata]

List of Installments for All These Years

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Installment List

Part 1: "Saturday Night"

Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"

Part 3: "Betrayal"

Part 4: "All the Broken Pieces"

Part 5: "Graduation"

Part 6: "The White Whale"

Part 7: "So Close Yet So Far"

Part 8: "Planting a Seed of Thought"

Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"

Part 10: "The Weight of Grief"

Part 11: "Last to Know"

Part 12: "Considering the Offer"

Part 13: "Breaking the News"

Part 14: "Day Late Friend"

Part 15: "What If...?"

Part 16: "The Death of Miscommunication"

Part 17: "Bridging the Distance"

Part 18: "A Series of Firsts"

Part 19: "Coffee, Brunch, and Hotel Rooms"

Part 20: "This Isn't Goodbye"

Part 21: "The Sound of Your Voice"

Part 22: "Declarations and Desire" {Coming Soon}

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #mentions of child abuse #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I just want you a little longer all to myself

kinktober, day eleven

a/n: yep, this is the dream. being like horny teens with matt at the office...

warnings: matt murdock x reader, smut, established relationship, secret relationship, reader works at nelson and murdock, office sex, kissing, oral, foreplay

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Okay, so that toasted avocado sandwich for you and a tuna one for you?” gesturing to both you and Matthew, Foggy went over today’s lunch wishes one last time as he neared the door. 

“Yep,” you smiled, your toe absentmindedly tapping the floor as you watched the floppy-haired man exit the office. 

“Cool,” he swung it open, jokingly adding just before he disappeared from your view, “have fun sorting out those documents while I’m gone!” 

It took approximately five seconds after the door slammed shut for you and the other lawyer to run into each other's arms as if you were just two hormonal youths, unable to be in the same room with one another without ripping each other’s clothes off. 

Tearing your lips away from his, your fingers began to feverously tug at his silky tie, “how long do you think we have till he gets back?” your frame curved into his touch as he dug into the softness of your ass, backing you up into his own office. 

“Not long enough,” Matt groaned, kicking the door shut behind him as you soon crashed into the desk, “but we’ll make it work,” nipping against your lips as he clawed at your dress. Spinning you around, you braced on the cluttered table as the man behind you fervently lowered himself to the floor, scooping up the fabric around your hips as he descended. 

Your eyes fluttered as you felt his stubble gently scratch against you, his hot kisses climbing up the tingling flesh of your thighs, “not that I don’t love the sexiness of sneaking around with you,” your point was abruptly halted by a strangled whimper as he finally reached your core, hooking your underwear to the side for him to bury his face in your heat, “but when are we gonna tell at least him?”

Mumbling against your glossy folds, the vibration made you shiver, “soon, I promise,” causing your hand to swiftly shoot down in order to impatiently yank him back up. As your fingers frantically fumbled with his zipper, desperate to feel him inside of you, he leaned in and kissed the shell of your ear, “I just want you a little longer all to myself…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #daredevil smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock oneshot #matt murdock one-shot #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock scenario #matt murdock headcanons #matt murdock hc #matt murdock hcs #marvel smut #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock dialogue #matt murdock fluff #daredevil imagine #matthew murdock imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader

[cellophaine]

Shy

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Abs riding – a hint of sub/dom dynamic, sweet talk, praise kink, cum eating.

Author's Note: I finally got around to writing this prompt that was on my list for forever! I just want to go 😖👹 on his delicious yummy abs holy crap somebody take the wheel 😵‍💫

*Everything in italic is flashback*

GIF made by me.

You knew how it went. It always started out innocent until one of you wanted something from the other. 

… damn him and his abs. 

Matt was shirtless, reclining on the spacious couch with you lying on his side, your head on his chest. He was laughing at a joke on the TV, but you couldn't register what was on since you had tuned it out a while ago, ever since you placed your hand on his midriffs. You leisurely caressed the dibs and ridges, feeling the smooth skin with little bumps of tiny scars. Your legs squeezed together to relieve the tension of something that was missing. You squirmed a little in your position; your mind wandered far away from the cozy living room, wondering if you could make yourself come on his–

"What are you thinking about?"

You blinked, lifting your head to look at him. His unsighted gaze had turned to where you were, a small grin on his lips that softened his face with all the faint wrinkles. 

"You seem distracted, and you're squirming a lot."

You put your hand on his chest, moving it in a soothing pattern to ease his concern.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you. You can go back to–"

"No no, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

His hand gently squeezed at your side, imploring you to be honest with him.

"Nothing's wrong. I just … I wonder if– you know what? It's really stupid."

You tried to sit up, but his hand stopped you. Instead, Matt pulled you closer so you would sprawl on top of his sturdy frame; his other hand gripped your chin to keep you facing him, making it impossible to hide.

"Tell me."

You took a deep breath, knowing there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"I want to … ride your … abs."

Matt didn't say anything for a moment, and you felt your stomach drop in anxiety over a stupid proposal.

"Never mind I said anything. It's–"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me sooner, sweetheart."

The smirk on his face was sinful, and you knew you were in for a day spent in bed with him. Or on the couch. Either way, you wouldn't mind.

And now, here you were, moving on top of him fervently like there was a fire you couldn't put out. Your arousal painted a sheer coat of translucent essence on his abdominals. You moved back and forth, swivelling your hips, revelling in the effortless glides of your wet folds on his smooth skin with all the pronounced definition underneath. It tied a knot in your lower belly in a foreign style, and you eagerly worked yourself up to unravel it. His hands grabbed at either side of your thighs, helping you move with ease. The grasp wasn't painful but tight like a pair of shackles, anchoring you to his heavenly body. Matt was laid back, completely in control, while you lost your mind over the strange feeling, your head thrown back with needy moans spilling out of your mouth. You repositioned yourself to move your hips just right, making your clit rub on the dibs and rise. The repeated friction drew more arousal from your core, leaking juice all over his muscles with your frantic movement. That fresh wave of pleasure hit you, causing your face to burn with the embarrassment of doing something so filthy. So debauchery. Your hips slowed as you held back your moans, and your head dipped slightly in self-consciousness. Matt's hand came up and searched for your face. He gripped your chin, pulling at your bottom lip so it would relax. 

"Don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. Get what you want from me."

As if he could sense your hesitation still, he persisted.

"Don't think about it too much. Stay with me. Can you do that for me?"

You shyly nodded, which earned you an approving smile from him. You resumed the motion, working yourself up again. Matt's hand slipped underneath your sweatshirt, covering one breast and kneading with his calloused palm. The rhythm of your breathing became short and heavy, unsteady with each glide of your sensitive bundle of nerves on his abs. His fingers teased your nipple, playing with the aching nub. You whimpered, feeling overwhelmed with your senses being toyed with under his influence.

"That's it. That's my good girl."

His praise went to your head, sending a pleasant wave of bliss to your core, encouraging you to chase that high. You moaned wantonly as Matt tweaked your nipple; his hand on your ass pulled you towards the definition of his abs, magnifying the sensation. Hearing you let yourself go seemed to affect Matt too. His chest and neck were flushed, and his lips parted as he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your arousal. His cock was so hard it ached, creating a tent in the sweatpants he wore. You moved faster on top of him, and you were close; Matt could feel it. Upon your desperate whines, he flexed his abs; his hands helped you move faster and faster. The dam broke, and you came undone with a choked cry, your hands braced on his chest to hold yourself up. You caught your breath, his hand tenderly stroking at your hips, coaxing you down from the orgasm. Your eyes fluttered, feeling hazy from the exertion. But they snapped wide open when you saw Matt gathering the wetness on his stomach and bringing the fluid to his lips. You watched as he sucked on his fingers, moaning at the taste. Even after what you just did, you still couldn't help but blush. 

Matt pulled you down with him, unabashedly searching for your lips with his own. You could taste yourself on him, and you shivered at how it turned you on. When you parted to pull air into your lungs, Matt whispered against your lips, a mischievous glint hidden in his tone. 

"We should do that more often."

You felt your face heat up and couldn't help the giggle that escaped at the suggestion. You buried your face in Matt's chest, closing your eyes as you felt the rise and fall of his ribcage and the beat of his heart underneath your cheek, steady as ever, grounding you.

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

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[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x vigilante!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : you’d met them, became their teammate, and the one night you got severely wounded, they took you to their place to patch you up.

⟢﹒ content warnings : i am not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge on how to take care of wounds like that properly so very inaccurate patching up session, mentions of blood, wounds, mentions of needle (to saw reader’s wound), afab!reader, stubborn reader, but stubborn frank, no use of y/n, not proofread

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

⟢﹒ note : this is the first part of a 2shot where the second part will be a smut with hunter/prey dynamic ! have a good read <;33

⟢ next part : here

The clouds were brown tonight, covering the inky blackness of the sky like a mass of cotton gathering up the streetlights of Hell's Kitchen. Everything seemed to be reflecting off a lake, the puddles of rain from earlier in the day having settled on every rooftop in the city in a myriad of mirrors.

It was quiet, abnormally quiet even. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly your typical idyllic holiday destination; on the contrary, it was the place to flee if you had the chance. Crime had its patch on every street corner, and not a single day or night went by without something happening.

But now, nothing. No problems. No calls for help. Just the calm of an evening. 

Sitting on the edge of a roof, your legs dangling boredly in the air, you listened to your little radio set beside your thigh, hoping that one of the police stations would report a problem. But everything was peaceful.

It had already been a few months since you had taken on the attire of the night, taken on the role of vigilante in Hell's Kitchen, and every evening you found yourself chasing crime out of town like a broom sweeping dust out of the way.

It wasn't necessarily an easy rhythm. After an already long day at work, you usually tried to get some sleep before starting your patrol. You'd realised that although there was no particular time for crime, most of them started after midnight.

But it was already one o'clock in the morning and there was nothing to report. You wondered whether perhaps you were doing your job as a vigilante too well. If you did, this kind of evening was set to happen, because if you did eradicate every crime all at once, there wouldn't be any left for later. The bitter reassurance that, unfortunately, crime, born since the dawn of time, would only die with men, gripped your heart.

The pace of it all was sometimes exhausting, but the advantage of all this was that you weren't really working alone any more. At first, the idea of joining forces with anyone to bring justice to the world of night seemed complicated, for several reasons. 

Firstly, coordination: having team-mates implied having a certain connection so that even without words being spoken, everything ran smoothly. 

And secondly, attachment. An environment like this where every night can be your last if you don't keep a minimum of vigilance can prove destructive. It would be too painful to lose an ally, and even more so if it was your turn to leave and they found themselves grieving.

But colleagues - no, partners? Friends? Whatever, the allies you found on certain nights were probably the most resilient human beings you'd ever met, to the point where the very thought of them dying was impossible. After all, when you're working with two people who have both withstood a bullet to the head and who are sure of themselves, you can't help but feel safe - or very small and miserable in their presence.

You had met them on patrol when the sounds of banging and groans of pain could be heard in an alleyway. Immediately, you had split the sphere of your personally modified Bolas and had helped in the fight after observing the side you had to take. Recognising criminals had become like a sixth sense, but above all you had recognised Daredevil's outfit in the semi-darkness and the silhouette that appeared to be that of Frank Castle.

You were familiar with the work of both of them, had seen enough of their appearances in the newspapers and heard their actions on the radio enough to know that the two men fighting the dozen or so others below were none other than these two.

You had helped them, immobilising a man here, strangling a man of the thread of your bolas there, while the two acolytes were both taking part in the fight. It was only at the end of the latter that the barrage of questions began.

"Who are you?" was of course the first question Matt asked.

"Who do you work for?" was the first question Frank raised, naturally.

It didn't take too long for you to explain that crime was swarming around the city like cockroaches in a dirty carpet and that you wanted to clean up just like them.

Frank was suspicious, Matt was calm, and you were sweating buckets, dreading their every reaction. They weren't exactly idols to you, but you had great respect for them.

It was when Matt agreed that you were sincere and that there was nothing to fear about you that Frank relaxed a bit, without letting go of his grouchy and suspicious attitude. You'd assumed at first that Frank wouldn't appreciate such a radical change of routine that included bringing a new member into the evening vigilante group, but Matt had assured him that having one more person would allow them to be more effective.

And soon, you'd be meeting up from time to time in the evening if you were lucky enough to bump into each other. 

First, you didn't reveal your identity immediately. There was a kind of silent agreement between the three of you on the subject. Of course, Frank's identity was no longer a mystery, but Matt's remained particularly anonymous for a long time.

Once enough trust had been established for Frank not to grumble at you at every given occasion, you were officially introduced.

You learned that Matthew Murdock was a blind lawyer with very heightened senses, and that Frank Castle lived with him, taking on a series of remote jobs under a different identity since his name was not really known in a very positive way. 

You didn't see each other outside of work, often too busy with your own lives to find time to see each other, even if you didn't discuss your free time... at first anyway.

You had exchanged phone numbers, in case an emergency arose and you suddenly needed help. Your exchanges were very cordial, sending addresses or locations when help was needed or to investigate something suspicious.

The first much less professional encounter was on a more turbulent night than the others, when you were cut badly on the leg, flank and arm, with an additional cut to your lip from a punch. 

According to Matt, your costume was similar to the one he wore when he first started as Daredevil. Dark clothes, something to hide your face and combat boots, needless to say that with just these to cover you up, you were extremely vulnerable.

When the fighting stopped, you didn't even have time to wince in pain that Matt was already beside you with a glove off and removing his helmet as Frank observed the situation.

"How bad is it?" Frank had asked, tilting his head to the side as the fabric covering your body darkened with blood.

"As bad as it looks to you and feels to me," Matt sighed as his fingertips brushed the skin of your side.

"It's all right," you assured them, moving slightly away from Matt and his touch, "really, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you can barely walk properly." Matt had asked, obviously knowing that no, everything wasn't all right.

Probably because he'd used that speech over and over again himself, that and the simple fact that your body looked like a cute little pinocchio with a nose extended to its ears.

"Yeah yeah, no big deal - argh!" you started before Frank put his hand on the gaping wound in your arm. “Hey!”

"No big deal, eh? If it was no big deal ya wouldn't be reacting like this."

"It's nothing, really." 

You had no idea if you sounded convincing… well, from the look on both their faces, you weren’t. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, looking you up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You felt tiny under his gaze like that, barely lifting your eyes to look into his. There was a dark insistence in his stare, and you could tell he was frustrated, only whether it was about you or the situation in itself you weren't sure.

"What d’you say Red ?" he said after seconds that felt like minutes.

You turned to Matt, his gaze fixed as usual on a point in the void. But that didn't stop his eyes from being expressive, and the rest of his face reinforced them. You watched in the half-light the way his jaw muscles twitched in the lamplight and your heart fell in your stomach.

"Our flat is closer to here than hers," was what he ended up saying.

Your heart went right back up your chest as you blinked fast, frowning at the sentence he had so casually said.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, "how do you know I'm-" but you didn't finish your own sentence before starting the next, "you followed me all the way to my place?"

Matt put both hands on his hips with a sigh, biting his lower lip before finally answering.

"We had a bit of a scare the other night when you were cut on the shoulder. We just wanted to make sure... that you got home okay."

Your lips parted in surprise, shifting then from Matt to Frank, who was looking at his feet as if the ground was far more interesting than anything he had to say at the moment. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

In a way, you found it strange that they'd followed you home without telling you anything about it, but Matt with his keen senses would probably have known where you were sooner or later. Besides, it was well-intentioned, and the sudden thought that they cared about you - no, about your state - was surprisingly heart-warming.

"In any case," Matt continued, clearing his throat, "ours is a lot closer than yours, and in your current state, you could do with some treatment when you get there."

"I'm not planning to stay the night, am I?" you laughed nervously.

"Why not?" said Frank, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in one gesture.

From now on, victory would go to the one with the most convincing argument.

"Well, I've got work tomorrow," you began, already thinking about the pain you'd have to endure in the morning when you woke up. 

You could still feel your warm blood clinging to your clothes, and the sensation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

"Say you're unwell, isn't far off the mark," Frank replied, pointing with a lazy wave of his hand at your body.

"But I don't have any clothes to spend the night in." You retorted, although the argument was easily contradicted by Matt's remark.

"We'll lend you some, it's no big deal," he assured you.

"I don't have a toothbrush," you retorted, as if that couldn't possibly be of any importance in this setting.

"We're not Cro-Magnons, we have backup ones," Matt laughed softly.

It was becoming a little more complicated to come up with relevant arguments. The blood loss was making you dizzy, weak, and preventing you from standing properly without grimacing every second while focusing all your attention on each cut and the intense burning sensation it gave you.

It wasn't so much that you didn't want to go, because on the contrary you found yourself enjoying their company more and more. It was simply the fact that...

"I'm afraid of imposing myself on you and bothering you." You said, looking away.

You were colleagues up to now, people who shared a common interest in justice, and you didn't mind their company. Only, you'd added to the mix completely unexpectedly. They'd already been working together before, even living together. You didn't know a great deal about their private lives and here you were, the millstone, getting hurt in the middle of a patrol and not being able to make a move without everything hurting.

You turned towards them again. The look on Frank's face was like the typical reaction of a human being who has just witnessed the greatest absurdity of all, while Matt's mouth was half-open in surprise. It almost seemed to you that saying that simple sentence had been a mistake.

"That's it, you're coming with us," Matt confirmed.

"Definitely," Frank affirmed as he approached you and placed one of his hands behind your back.

"Hey wait-" you had no say in the matter, though, as Frank's second hand came up behind your knees and lifted you off the ground.

Your hands barely grasped the back of his neck, wincing as you writhed in pain. You wouldn't have minded being carried. The fatigue of the evening weighed on each of your limbs as if they were full of lead. 

You knew how to walk, one step in front of the other like most, and the suddenness of being lifted so easily into the air felt funny. You couldn't help fidgeting, caressing the hope of finding a position more comfortable than one that made you feel every inch of your skin open to the night air.

"Stop movin’ like a chicken ‘bouta have its throat cut," Frank grumbled as the two of them started walking.

"Put it on the ground and the chicken will calm down," you breathed through clenched teeth of discomfort.

"It's not a very long walk, I promise." Matt reassured you.

You huffed, clutching the collar of Frank's jacket to prevent yourself from squeezing the back of his neck too hard and getting another remark. You were torn between the uneasiness of the stir he made with every step, which you felt in every wound, and the new comfort you found in the embrace of his arms.

You felt so... safe that way. And not just with Frank, because you felt the same sense of tranquillity with Matt. They were both involved in your life in such an unusual way and they still managed to make you feel comfortable.

You'd never been so close to him, snuggled up against him and held in his strong arms. As close as you were to his body, you could smell him. A mix of cool and warm. 

He carried the smoky but crisp scent of the night, the fresh but dark air, like the smell of a just-cut apple leaving its cool scent on the blade of the knife that has just sliced it. And all of this was strangely relieving. 

Your eyes drifted to his neck, which was inevitable considering how close you were to it. Your gaze focused on his Adam's apple, ready to be covered by his perpetual stubble, letting your eyes slide up to his marked, strong jawline. You weren't in the habit of observing someone so closely, especially when that someone was handsome. 

The journey across his face continued, passing from his full lips, to his nose bumped by the many blows he must have received in the face, to conclude this pleasant silent voyage with his eyes. Beneath a pair of stern eyebrows were two onyxes, shyly illuminated by the few street lamps on the deserted streets you were travelling through. You had seen them turn black like those of a shark that had smelled blood. 

If you didn't know that look would never be meant for you, you'd be afraid of them.

You'd spent enough time with them in combat situations to know that their rage alone could bring a man down with a look. You hoped you'd never have to pay the price of it.

But this close, you didn't feel in danger, although the very idea that such dark eyes of vengeance and bitterness and death might pass over yours made you shudder.

“You’re staring, little one,” Frank remarked, his gaze never wavering from the path in front of him.

Too embarrassed by your own behaviour, you nestled your head on his shoulder, resting your forehead on it as your neck and cheeks heated up. You felt a little foolish as you felt your heart beating frantically between your ribs, and the very idea that Matt could undoubtedly hear it made you want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and disappear.

When were you going to get to that bloody flat where you would - hopefully - never again have to be so close to one of them without your thoughts getting carried away ?

Your wishes were granted, as you soon found yourselves standing in front of a door that Matt habitually opened, letting Frank go first as he pressed you closer to him to get through the doorway. With a single breath, his scent invaded you more and more until, for a few moments, your thoughts were focused on nothing but him.

The sudden closeness of him made you feel your cheek brush against the nape of his neck, cool in the night air, but enough for your own skin to heat up slightly.

Internally, you were slapping yourself in the face. Now was not the time to let yourself be bewitched by your colleagues, although the fact that you would be spending the night with them would intensify those thoughts.

Your reflections kept you prisoner enough that you didn't realise until you'd climbed the stairs that you were about to enter Matt's flat. No... their flat.

This reality dropped into your stomach like a heavy stone. They're together, so don't try or think anything that might disappoint you. Tonight... It's just business. It's just help they're giving you, that's all it is.

Perhaps it was a cruel lack of affection that made you repeat all this to yourself, but whatever the case, your inner monologue gradually died down as your attention was drawn to the inside of the place.

It was big, really big for a flat, and for a moment the idea of Matt and Frank being rich occurred to you. It wasn't until Frank moved further into the living room that your eyes fell almost painfully on the neon lighting that illuminated the whole room.

And the more you looked, the more the charm of the place intensified. Of course, the neon had to be a problem. And yes, the walls had faded wallpaper and cracked paint. And maybe the windows could have done with a bit of a wipe down.

But the cosy atmosphere the flat had was delightful. The warmth that greeted you as you entered was gentle and reassuring. You noticed that there was little smell in the flat, nothing too strong at least so far. 

"On the sofa, she's already lost enough blood for the evening," Matt pointed out as he left for his kitchen.

Ah, right, Matt's senses, you almost forgot. The reason for the absence of perfume or overpowering scents in their flat was surely that it could prove abrasive on his olfactory sensitivity and generally on his senses.

Frank didn't hesitate for a moment, gently lowering you onto the leather sofa, which you felt sink under your back. The sudden change of position made you wince and whimper, the pain of your wounds hitherto camouflaged by your comfort in Frank's arms resurfacing to inflame your skin.

Frank watched you for a moment, frowning as he observed with serious eyes the dark stains that soaked through the various fabrics of your outfit. Without a word, he walked away, and a few seconds later Matt appeared in your field of vision, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"We're going to need you to take off your top and trousers, do you think you can do that?"

The heat rose to your cheek, making you realise that with those wounds on your body, it was inevitable that you would end up naked if they wanted to do anything to help fix you.

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip, keeping it prisoner for a moment and grunting as the gesture made you reopen your little wound. 

"I'll try," you croaked, trying to unclench the hand that had been glued to your side until now. 

The bleeding seemed to have eased, the blood slightly caking to your hand as you pulled it free with an exhaled whimper. The sudden contact of air on your skin felt like an icy slap, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm yourself.

Your head tumbling back on the comfortable leather, you tried to get your hands to the sides of your T-shirt, pulling at the fabric. The material rubbed against your gaping wound, and you gritted your teeth as you breathed heavily.

Matt swallowed, clenching his jaw before kneeling in front of you.

"I can help you, if you don't mind," he offered, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he began to remove your shoes.

Your reflex would usually have been to say no, your determination to achieve everything on your own without help from others blocking such opportunities. But the more you thought about it, the more the taste of resignation grew in your mouth.

At the rate you were going, getting undressed would take a considerable amount of time, time that Matt and Frank could probably have spent doing something more interesting than helping someone like you. So you gave in.

The blood from your split lip spilled back into your mouth, your tongue running over the cut and burning you. Wrinkling your nose in pain and breathing through your teeth, you nodded vigorously as you readjusted yourself on the sofa.

Matt sat up straight on his knees and faced you, his hands first feeling the leather of the sofa to find your thigh. He gently skimmed along the fabric, his hand brushing the wound on your thigh and making you grunt slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured softly. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," his confirmation letting his hand travel up to your waist. 

His second joined in, avoiding the path of his twin again, and finding the sides of your top.

"Can you put your arms up for me?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, chewing the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath. Then you did the seemingly impossible by lifting your arms. Your shoulders felt like they were made of lead, and your whole body seemed to be made of nothing but aches and pains.

When the fabric and movement rubbed against the wound on your arm, which you had barely raised, your hand instinctively came to press against it, letting a small, contorted whimper escape from your lips.

Matt let out a sigh, but he didn't seem exasperated or annoyed, more concerned or sharing your pain. Just then Frank came back into the living room, a first aid kit in hand as he came up beside you.

"We're going to have to cut your shirt off," Matt warned.

You sighed, feeling deeply incapable. When did taking off a shirt become so complicated? Every cut on your body was starting to burn severely, and you felt like throwing yourself into a lake of ice water to soothe the pain.

Frank pulled the scissors out of the kit, sitting down next to you and letting the sofa sink beneath him.

"We'll get you a new one," he promised as the cold kiss of the scissor blades touched your skin for a moment near the wound on your arm, bringing a short-lived respite.

Frank tugged at the fabric to pull it away from your skin, then after a few scissor strokes tore the material of your t-shirt as if it were paper with a sharp tear.

The cold skin of his fingers, still covered in the cool of the outside air, came to rest on your skin, and it was as if night met day, as the moon touched the sun with its fingertips, illuminating each of its craters and cuts.

Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled your belt gently, unbuttoning your trouser button at the same time and pulling on the fly until his fingers brushed the birth of...

"Sorry about the whisky but we didn't have anything else," he said apologetically as he took hold of the edges of your trousers.

"Aren't you guys sponsored by first aid kits at this point?" you asked through clenched teeth.

Waiting for Frank to move the scissors away from your skin, you raised your pelvis so that Matt could slide your trousers down more easily. 

"There hasn't been any disinfectant in any of them since last night," he explained with a small smile.

The scene was strangely intimate, Frank's hot breath spreading across the back of your neck as he cut off your shirt, and Matt's hands sliding your trousers down your thighs.

You couldn't help but let out a grunt as the fabric of your pant leg brushed against the wound on your thigh, though Matt was doing his best not to cause you any discomfort, whispering small apologies as he did so.

You then realised the context of all this, and the heat rose to your cheeks when Frank threw the last shred of your old T-shirt somewhere in the background: you were in your underwear in front of them.

For a moment, their fingers on your body felt much less professional. The passage of their digits over your skin left behind a trail of sparkling powder underneath.

Placing a towel under your thigh, Matt indicated to Frank the bottle of alcohol which he uncorked.

"This might sting a bit," Matt advised just before Frank started pouring the cool liquid over the wound on your arm.

You stifled a muffled gasp, your thighs trembling slightly from the heat of your wounds. Matt's face scrunched up, his hands resting on your thighs in the hope of easing your pain or distracting you from the excruciating sensation you were going through. As for Frank, he didn't seem to give a damn, his face filled with his constant annoyed neutrality.

You had wondered several times whether Frank hated you, or whether it was difficult for him to stand you. Whatever the case, he didn't seem to have you in his heart. Maybe it was mistrust, but whatever the reason, he seemed irascible towards you.

He continued to pour the contents of the bottle quite generously onto your side, your eyelids closing so tightly that you felt you were seeing stars. You gritted your teeth so hard that for a moment they cut off your hearing, then released the tension.

"It's almost done," Matt murmured in the hope of encouraging you.

Frank ended up cleaning your trembling thigh. You brought your hand, closed into a fist, up to your mouth, biting the skin of one of your fingers to channel the pain.

Your head jerked back, breathing heavily as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. The worst had undoubtedly just passed.

You heard them rummaging around in the kit, and as you straightened your head, you saw them pulling out needle and thread.

"No pain killers," you managed to say as your mouth felt almost pasty.

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

"Gotta get this done first, no painkillers for your princess ass now."

You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

"Silly me to assume you'd care." you mumbled, already feeling the discomfort from the alcohol on your gaping skin soften.

"It' all be over soon," Matt asserted, his thumb running over the skin of your thigh.

"And I who was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life,' you breathed.

Frank brought one of the armchairs closer to the sofa, needle in hand.

"Gon try and be gentle, softy." he added, the little nickname making you scoff.

"No, Frank, being gentle isn't your area of excellence. You shine mainly in murder and mutilation."

He raised his eyes to yours, still red and wet from your previous pain and reflecting the famous 'gentleness' he had shown in his actions. He frowned, but this gesture was unexpectedly accompanied by a smile mixing surprise and amusement, stretching his face in a way you'd never seen from him before.

He brought the needle up to your thigh, grasping the skin with his large hand as firmly as gently. He pierced it, making you wince at the sensation. 

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he finally said, his concentration seemingly unwavering.

But the simple idea of saying this when this same man was stitching you up at the moment only enchanted you for a short moment. He had a needle in his hand that he could very well stick anywhere but in the wound that needed to be closed. And although it was an immensely small needle, you were well aware that anything can become a deadly weapon if you have the will to use it. 

So you said nothing, letting that little irritation fade away as you let yourself be stitched up. The pain was bearable in the end, nothing too horrible. It was better than going home and cauterising the whole thing with your straightening iron.

Now that the pain was more bearable, your attention eventually drifted to something other than that feeling, and more to the rest. The feel of their fingers on your body brought a whole new sensory experience, causing a warm cloud to settle in your belly.

Matt straightened up, your thigh already missing the presence of his hand on it. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing your arm without injury.

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

"It's not the worst thing on the menu," you laughed nervously, immediately regretting your gesture as your smile stretched your lip and reopened it again.

He fumbled for the kit, taking a cotton ball and grabbing the bottle to soak it in.

"Here," he said, his hand coming to take your chin tenderly and turning it towards him.

He pressed the wet cotton to your wound, and you hissed as your nose wrinkled in pain.

"It might sting a bit when you drink," he murmured.

The proximity gripped your heart, Matt's face close enough to yours that you felt his breath hit your skin gently and evenly. You tried to calm your racing heart in your chest, swallowing as you let him finish disinfecting your lip.

You took the opportunity to watch him more closely, to see the way his stubble ran gracefully across his jaw, the way his brown eyes watching the empty space were full of softness, the way his lips, which you were used to seeing outside the mask, were full and pink.

He seemed incredibly gentle, and if you didn't spend some nights a week in his company fighting crime, you'd never have bet he was fighting like the devil himself: unleashed, full of rage, the taste of revenge and the desire for a better balance blinding him beyond measure.

"You'll take our bed," Matt said, Frank just finishing stitching up your thigh.

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

"Since I'm on the couch I might just stay on it," you laughed nervously as Frank moved to the wound on your waist.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you to the edge of the sofa, looking up at you: 

"Sit straight and still," he says in a tone calm but firm enough to convince you that he wouldn't repeat that command twice.

You straighten up slightly, letting him come and stitch up the wound in your side.

"Of the three of us, you're clearly the one who needs comfort and rest the most, not us," Matt continued, placing the now useless cotton wool on the table.

"I can assure you that I've rarely been on a sofa as comfortable as this one," you added.

You'd invite yourself into their home unannounced, they'd take care of you, and on top of that they'd make you sleep in their bed while they slept elsewhere?

"Do we really have to drag you there?" asked Frank, tugging at the thread.

"And let me squirm and ruin all your previous efforts on my wounds?" you huffed as you looked into his eyes, a muscle near your eye twitching as Frank continued his work. "I'd ruin your sheets, that's really not necessary."

"Listen-" Matt started, but you stopped him.

"No," you assured him, turning to him, "and anyway I can already feel sleep stalking me."

Frank breathed in as he opened his lips to speak and contradict you again, but you stopped him.

"Really," you assured him, "I'll take the sofa."

Frank bit his cheek in irritation, obviously not so happy to know that someone in this town shared being so stubborn. He turned to Matt, who also didn't seem to be enjoying the situation any more than that.

"Alright, but there's no way I'm going to hear you complain as soon as you wake up, is that clear?" finished Frank as he tied the thread over the cut in your abdomen.

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

As Frank started your last cut, Matt got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass. He filled it with water, while you and Frank seemed to be engaged in a stare-down between two obstinate, stubborn people.

"Thanks Matty," you thanked sincerely, taking the two delicious items in your hand.

He seemed surprised by the nickname, a nervous chuckle forming a smile on his lips.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he replied as he left for their shared room and began the process of changing his costume.

You placed the tablet on your tongue, then brought the glass to your lips. As promised, it stung. A cloud of red diluted on the contact with your lips, and as you observed it you wondered how you would justify it to your boss.

You sighed, reminding yourself that you should email them first thing in the morning to let them know you were absent. All you had to do the next day was explain that you'd been attacked in the street for stealing your bag, but you'd managed to get away, and that in a state of shock you didn't feel like coming to work the next day. This would probably do.

Frank finished stitching you up fairly quickly, and when he cut the last thread he still looked at you with that annoyed look he never seemed to shake off.

"Thank you, Frankie" you thanked, using the nickname in a more playful tone than you had with Matt.

He let out a single sharp breath from his lungs before getting up and leaving in his turn for the bedroom, from which Matt emerged in much more... normal clothes.

It was the first time you'd seen him in civilian attire, in a simple hoodie and jogging bottoms. Your eyes went wide, your mouth half-open for a moment, and you had to blink several times to pull yourself together.

"Here," he said, placing the pile of clothes next to you on the sofa. "Do you think you can stand this time?" 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and everything else didn't burn as much as if hell itself had invited itself under your skin, you tried to stand up. You wanted to avoid any sudden movements, but eventually, with a bit of effort, you managed to straighten up and start pushing on your legs to get up.

Your knees trembled slightly from the stress and everything else that had gone with it during the night, and just as you thought you'd be sprawled out on the floor in the next few seconds, tasting the parquet floor, Matt grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

"Hey, take it easy little fawn, we don't need you damaging your nose on top of everything else," he laughed as he steadied you, letting your legs wobble a little more before you felt comfortable enough to stand.

Your whole body hurt like hell. And no wonder: in addition to your various cuts from the evening, your body was dotted with clouds of bruises that would make all the blueberries jealous of their colour.

"Let me help you," he finally smiled gently as he picked up the T-shirt from the pile.

He helped you into the top, taking care not to let the fabric come into contact with your freshly stitched skin.

"I'll need to borrow one of your shirts tomorrow when I leave," you said with a small smile, "mine's had a bit of a problem."

Matt laughed softly as he poked his head into your top. " May it rest in pieces."

You laughed softly at his little joke, slipping the rest on and feeling his hands roam over your covered skin, the size of the t-shirt far too big for you and reaching the top of your thighs.

Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of you, and you looked down at him as he rolled up the sweatpants so he could slip them around your ankle, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you could find some support.

The vision was heady, taking hold of your heart like an intoxicating scent you want to chase down so you can bury your whole face in it and never leave. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to let them get lost in its meanders, to let your nails graze his skull before tugging lightly on it... 

But you pulled yourself together, the thought once again creating a warm cloud in your lower belly as he straightened up and pulled the fabric up your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as if you were a statue forbidden to be touched.

"You're gonna have to see that with Frank though," he said as he tied the two laces around your waist, "it's his shirt."

That's how the same smell you'd first smelled when you were in his arms came back to mind, but you remained stoic, preventing yourself from grabbing the collar of the shirt and bringing it up to your nose.

"Challenge of the year," you sighed, smiling though, "thank you. For all of this."

"That's normal, it would be a shame if our partner found herself unable to exercise," he reassured you.

The word sent a shiver up your spine and into your cheeks.

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

"Coming," he answered over his shoulder before turning away from you.

You sat back down on the sofa, tiredness beginning to weigh heavily on your eyelids. You lay down, the multiple events of the evening knocking you out more easily than any sleeping pill. 

You had no trouble falling asleep, even with the neon lights on, even without a blanket, and even when the two of them came back into the room.

When you woke up, your back felt like it was sinking into a cloud. The surface you were lying on was soft, and when you turned on your side, your hand came to rest on a material that was not at all like the leather of the sofa: silk.

You propped yourself up gently on one elbow, observing the place you were in, and that's when you realised: they'd moved you into their bed while you were asleep.

"Bastards," you muttered, and bit your cheek to stop the little smile forming on your lips from breaking out.

A funny feeling sprang up in your heart, making it light and rosy. But that feeling quickly faded as you sat up straighter and your whole body ached. You felt like you'd just come out of a washing machine, all tossed and turned.

You stood up, trying to stretch but stopping immediately when the pain from your stitched-up cuts threatened to reopen. You didn't want to mess up their clothes, you'd probably never forgive yourself if that happened.

You came out of the bedroom and found Frank and Matt talking in the kitchen. Matt turned to you, sending you a smile.

"Good morning," he offered.

You were limping lightly, and bent slightly, walking slowly towards them through fatigue and pain.

"At last the groundhog graces us with her presence," Frank grumbled, turning to you.

"Am I rather not a sleeping beauty ?" you returned with a smile, "I wonder if sleeping beaty had a breakfast date when she woke up. I mean, look at me this is such a tempting offer," you said as your posture could easily have been a cross between an old lady and a pregnant woman, leaning on your hip, alternating between the curve of your back and the arch of it, making your whole body crack into a grimace of relief.

But surprisingly, they both smiled at your joke, and the awkward silence you might have expected or the abrupt change of subject to move on never came. But that didn't stop you from apologising on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I don't want my words to sound inappropriate, but I know that you two... well, you're..." together was the word you were looking for, but your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Try again, you thought. You'll end up rowing champion if you keep paddling like that. But Matt immediately reassured you.

"There's nothing to worry about, and besides, on my side you have to be forgiving when you don't have the 'pause' button."

Right, you thought, even though the heat was rising to your cheeks and neck enough for your cool hand to come and rest on it, massaging it nervously.

"I find you singularly witty, Red," Frank said, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, there was nothing new under the sun about Frank. His sharp tone brought you back to solid ground in no time.

"How are the wounds?" he asked as he turned to you, his eyes lingering for a moment on the fact that you were wearing his shirt.

"Very well," you assured him as you lifted the sides of your shirt to show the one on your side and the one on your arm, turning back to him, "I think the blue really brings out my eyes, don't you?"

He smirked, and you couldn't quite work out whether it was genuine annoyance or amusement. It all seemed a bit too perfect, and that's when it hit you.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, looking for where they'd put your trousers where your phone was.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"My boss," you said, searching the hallway and finding your trousers there, "I didn't tell him-"

"We called him this morning," pointed out Frank.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

"We called him," Matt informed, "we told him that we were close to you and that after you were mugged last night in the street you decided to stay home for the day out of shock."

"You-"

"It's all sorted, you don't need to worry," Frank grunted, taking his drink in hand, surely in search for you to shut up and let him enjoy his morning cup of coffee.

You stood there like a houseplant in the middle of the living room, and Matt invited you to take a seat for breakfast. Bemused, you took a seat and the three of you ate and chatted for a while.

Matt mentioned taking you to see a guy he knew so that he could cover you up with something other than such a simplistic and obviously flimsy outfit that could put you in danger again.

And after breakfast, you left at the same time as Matt, who was leaving for work. You said your final goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Little did you know the proximity of last night would change many things.

⟢ next part : here

#mads ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #fratt #fratt x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #the punisher #my writing

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Barista

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: nothing. only fluff Summary: Although the barista at the local coffee shop never seems to be able to get Matt's order right, something keeps bringing him back. A/N: enjoy this quick little fluffy thing I whipped up in the notes app of my phone <3

Masterlist

Matt winced after he took another sip of his coffee. You had added cinnamon to it this time. Cinnamon. He didn’t know how you managed to do that. His coffee was simple and, more importantly, never changed, but you—a barista at the local coffee shop—always somehow managed to get it just a little incorrect.

But, also, Matt wasn’t exactly keen on skipping his weekly coffee trips.

“What did she put in your coffee this time?” Foggy asked after having witnessed the face his friend had made.

Matt sighed. “Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Foggy laughed. “I don’t understand how that is even possible. Why do you keep going to that place?”

Matt did his best to his shrug casual, undetectable. “No reason. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh my gosh.”

“What?”

“There’s a hot barista, isn’t there?”

Matt immediately started spewing out (weak) protests. “What. That’s… I— How would I—,”

But Foggy cut him off. “Don’t give me that again, Matthew. You do know. You can’t stop yourself from going to the coffee shop because you’re trying to get with a hot barista.”

“Okay,” Matt said in defeat, “maybe let’s not call her ‘hot barista.’ She’s just… She’s very kind. She makes silly coffee puns when I order. Sometimes we get to talking and… I don’t know. I like it. I like her, I think.”

“Even though she gets your coffee order wrong every single time?”

Matt blushed. “Well, I think I make her a little nervous. I may or may not have noticed some spikes in her heart rate.”

"Oh, that’s perfect," Foggy said with a laugh. "So, when are you going to ask her out?"

"I— I don’t think I can do that. That would be weird, right? Maybe she’s just being nice to me. I don’t want to be one of those customers."

"But you said her heart skips when you walk in."

"Sure, but maybe she’s just an anxious person—,"

Foggy scoffed. "Since when have you ever had this many reservations about asking someone out?"

"I don’t know," Matt admitted with a sigh. "I don't think she needs to get wrapped up in all my stuff."

"Actually it sounds like she very much wants to get wrapped up with you."

"Foggy…"

"Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, raising his arms in surrender. "I’m just saying, it sounds like she might be into you so I would at least think about it."

And so Matt did. He tried not to—he really did—but no matter how much he resisted it, your angelic voice and his best friend’s insisting words kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Even when he was out patrolling his city, the thoughts didn’t leave him.

In fact, it consumed Matt for an entire weekend. And he found himself back at the coffee shop bright and early Monday morning.

As Matt opened the door, he was immediately hit by your soft, sweet voice talking to another customer. You were kind and respectful as you interacted with them but Matt was quick to notice you didn’t share a coffee pun. He didn’t know why that made something in his chest warm.

When he approached the counter, he heard your heart speed up just ever so slightly, as if on perfect cue. Matt enjoyed trying to act clueless sometimes.

"Good—Good morning, Matthew," you said. "It’s good to see you again. I missed you a latte this past weekend."

Matt subtly tightened the grip on his cane. He swore you winced at your words, which he found adorable. "Good morning.” He couldn’t help but smile. "That was a good one.”

You giggled. And it nearly took his breath away.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I have to start looking up new ones. I fear I’m running out.”

Matt shook his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You laughed again. You were as giddy as ever around him. Maybe Foggy wasn’t completely bonkers, Matt thought.

"What can I get started for you today, Mister Lawyer?”

"Coffee. Splash of cream," Matt answered.

"Of course, of course," you muttered to yourself before waltzing around behind the counter. The sound of grinding beans and dripping coffee made Matt’s ears perk up.

"Busy day today?" You asked over the noise of the machines.

Matt shook his head. "Paperwork to do, files to review. The usual," he replied but his words felt jilted. Should he ask you? Would that be weird? Would you call the cops or something?

"Well, that’s good to hear! Your day will fly by," you said quite cheerfully. It made Matt feel really good—a particular kind of good that didn’t always come easily for him.

"It’s already off to a great start here," Matt replied, taking a little leap of faith. He swore he heard you gasp. "Um, you know, there is something I wanted to ask you."

You were now pouring coffee into a to-go cup. Matt didn’t think you had messed up anything this time but he couldn’t be sure. He was a little distracted.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked. Your voice was suddenly shaky. Your heart rate shot up. Not just a skip like before. It was pounding.

It could mean anything, really, he told himself.

"Yeah." Matt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. With me."

Something heavy hit the counter. "Uh, dinner? Like as a date?"

Matt chuckled. "Yes, exactly like a date."

"I’d love to." You didn’t even hesitate slightly. That made Matt feel really good.

"Great," he replied. He was sure he was keeping his composure from the outside but on the inside? He wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

You two exchanged contact information after Matt’s order was ready. He paid and you both kept it very professional, even when he noticed your hands were pretty much shaking.

The professionalism fell when he was bidding you a goodbye. You stepped around the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek and wish him a good day. It nearly took Matt aback but not in a bad way.

A permanent smile was etched onto his face for the entire morning—even when he went to take a sip of his coffee...

Vanilla. Matt could smell it, he could taste it. You had somehow added a splash of vanilla syrup to his cup of coffee. Matt laughed to himself.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x reader #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #writing*

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?”  He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #smut #marvel smut #daredevil smut

[chvoswxtch]

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure. 

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen. 

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package. 

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities. 

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to. 

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you. 

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre. 

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter. 

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk. 

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm. 

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips. 

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil fic

[cowgurrrl]

What's In A Name?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was rewatching daredevil

Summary: You settle on a new nickname for Matthew [1.3k]

Warnings: fluff, lawyer talk, brief mention of Jack, Daredevil things, June’s first time writing Matt so pls be nice, I think that’s it??

He's realized it changes depending on the day. You refer to him in court as your colleague, Mr. Murdock, or even Counselor. You call him Murdock to get his attention or scold him for something. That Idiot in The Mask before you find out about his nightly escapades. That Idiot in The Mask after you find out about his nightly escapades. But more often than not, when he climbs into bed after a long night of being That Idiot, your eyes flutter open, and you murmur a soft "Matthew" before snuggling into him.

Foggy and Karen make fun of you for using his full name more often than Matt, which is undeniably faster and punchier. Every once in a while, you'll pull Franklin out to make Foggy cringe and accuse you of sounding like his mother. Their teasing does nothing to stop you from calling him Matthew. It's the name in your phone, the name you punch in braille in his birthday cards, the name you use to introduce him to others, everything. 

It also helps to conceal the specifics of your relationship from other lawyers who may get nosy and try to use your relationship against you in a court of law. What girlfriend wouldn't call her boyfriend by a nickname? The kind of girlfriend who went through seven years of school and refuses to have her JD called into question just because she went into practice with her boyfriend and best friends. 

The good thing is he doesn't seem to mind you calling him Matthew. It's very rare that the name doesn't grate on his ears, but when it falls from your lips, it's warm and welcome like the first sunny day after a harsh New York winter. The question, however, comes on a chilly October evening while sitting with socked feet on the couch and working through closing statements. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard many pieces of information throughout the past few weeks. Many of them circumstantial," you read to him as you scribble the notes on a yellow legal pad. His hand is resting on your thigh, tracing patterns into your soft leggings, and cocks his head in your direction to show you he's listening. "However, you have also heard from my client-"

"Our client." Matt interrupts, and you look up at him. His tinted glasses are resting on the coffee table amid scattered case notes and copies of evidence, and his brown eyes are cast vaguely in your direction. When you first started dating, he told you people were uncomfortable with his bouncing, unfocusing eyes, and that's why he hadn't taken off his glasses in front of you. Since then, it's been a steady journey of reassuring him how much you love him, love all of him. The fact that all these years later, he's sitting without shame and without his glasses is enough to make your heart soar. 

"Is O'Reilly also the jury's client?" 

"No, but there are multiple defense attorneys on this case."

"Okay, so what if I gesture to you when I say it?" You ask, and the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up.

"'M sure that'll look very professional, sweetheart." He says, amusement in his tone, and you roll your eyes as you look back down at the paper. 

"I'm just gonna say 'my client.'" 

"Fine, but I'm telling Foggy."

"Oh, c'mon, we both know you've claimed clients and cases as your own. It's not a big deal."

"I have not!" 

"I will pull court transcripts right now."

"Maybe I should be the one to give closing statements." He teases and tries to reach for your papers. You rip them out of his reach and drop them on the floor when he tickles your sides. You laugh and try to fight against his strong hands, but he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tickles you with the other. 

"Okay, okay, that's enough." You beg between breathless giggles, and his merciless attack on your stomach stops as fast as it started. The apartment falls silent as he lays half on top of you with your legs bracketing his sides. His hair is soft and a little too long, flopping over his forehead and hiding a yellowing bruise, and his full lips are pulled into a perfect smile that you can't help but kiss. He hums against your lips and releases your wrists, letting your hands graze his waist, narrowly avoiding sore ribs. You feel a full breath fill his lungs before he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

"We're never gonna finish closing statements like this." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and you shrug.

"Prosecution barely has a case. We'll be fine," you say as you scratch his back. "Besides, I always make closing statements my bitch."

"Can't argue with that." He laughs, and you hum in agreement. It's getting late. The sights and sounds of the city have dimmed just enough to tell you that people have made it home from their work days, settling into dinner and bedtime routines with their families. A certain red suit hidden in the closet pricks at the forefront of your mind, and you take a deep breath. 

You knew what you signed up for when you met Matt in your legal history class during your second year at Columbia. You'd had several long-winded conversations with him about defending the working man, upholding the law, and the importance of order in a chaotic world. You knew dating him also meant sharing him with his job, no matter what it was. Still, you never expected his part-time job to be beating up criminals in dark alleys after you went to bed. 

"Wanna order Thai from that place down the block and keep working, or do you need to go?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"'M good."

"You sure?" 

"I like working with you." He says sincerely, and a ball of light shines in your chest. You have to fight the smile threatening the corner of your mouth, and you know he can feel it. 

"Are you just saying that cause you want me to change my wording?" You ask, and he laughs. He ducks his head to kiss your jaw before straightening back up, not letting himself get too distracted by the taste of your skin.

"No, I'm saying that because I love hearing you make closing statements your bitch."

"Good answer, Matthew." You tap his side, and he kisses you again before sitting back to let you get up and retrieve your phone from the counter. You type in the restaurant's name, your mouth watering at the thought of Pad Thai, and walk over to the back of the couch. Matt leans into you the second you're close enough, and even though you don't have super senses like him, you know he's thinking hard about something.

"You know you may be the only person in the world who calls me Matthew on a regular basis?" He asks out of the blue, and you look up from your phone. His hand finds its way to your waist and tugs you closer until your hips are flush against the couch. You indulge in his sudden neediness by running your free hand through his hair.

"What'd your dad call you?" You ask quietly. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he tilts his head at you.

"Matty."

"Matty," you try to nickname on your tongue and smile. "Gotta give it to Battlin' Jack, that's a pretty good one."

"I'm sure he'd agree with you." He says, the gentle ache of grief settling over the space. You lean down and kiss his head in reverence, like you're thanking him for sharing the memory with you. The feeling dissolves once you get back into closing statements and arguing about wording over steaming piles of food, but the name sticks in your brain. His contact name in your phone goes from Matthew to Matty. You let yourself call him Matty a handful of times to test it out, and somehow, the transition between names doesn't faze either of you. It feels good, intimate almost. Something just for the two of you. 

Hell's Kitchen can have Daredevil all they want as long as Matty is the one coming home to you. 

#matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fic #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader

[petertingle-yipyip]

BABY SAID - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x reader

Word Count: 1,976

Summary (request): Hey, may I make a Matt x Reader request. Foggy wants to meet Matt's new girlfriend. Foggy and Karen are supposed to meet you at Josie's. (You and Matt have a little plan to annoy Foggy.) You arrive later than the others and walk past the trio, foggy notices you and flirts with you. The idea came to me with the quote // Matt Murdock : How would I even know she's a beautiful woman? Foggy Nelson : I don't know. It's kinda spooky, actually. But if there's a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock's gonna find her, and Foggy Nelson is gonna suffer.

“Are you sure?” You asked from the car, phone to your ear as you leaned on your steering wheel. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t hate you.” He laughed. “I’ll make sure they know it was my idea.”

“Yeah, what a great first impression. I look like that girl and you look like a two timer.. You really think they’ll believe you’re a cheater?”

“It’s not gonna be like that.” He laughed again. “I haven’t told them we’re together together. They think it’s just one dates here and there.”

“And you’re positive they’ll think it’s funny?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Probably? Matt!” You whined.

“Sweetheart, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

“Fine.” You huffed and turned the key to shut off the car. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

You dropped your phone to your lap and pulled down your visor to check yourself in the mirror. You seemed put together enough. Hair looked good, makeup fresh. You sighed and slammed the visor up before grabbing your purse and exiting your vehicle. You chirped the alarm and dropped the keys in your purse as you headed into Josie’s.

You scanned the place and found Matt with who you assumed were his friends back at the pool table. You were meeting Matt’s friend for the first time and he had the brilliant idea that morning to pretend that you weren’t his girlfriend. He wanted you to come up and flirt with him to get a reaction from his friends before he would tell them anything. It sounded fun enough earlier, but as you sat at the bar, your stomach twisted into tight knots.

You were absolutely terrified that his friends wouldn’t find it funny. What if they thought you were a homewrecker? What if they didn’t want anything to do with you after that? Your anxious thoughts and tapping on the bar top came to a screeching halt when someone sat next to you.

“Hey.” He said kindly. You jumped slightly and turned your head so quick you thought you’d given yourself whiplash. You recognized him as Matt’s friend, Foggy.

“Hi.” You said carefully. “Any chance you know how to get a drink in this place? Bartender hasn’t even looked this way.” You tried with a nervous smile.

“Oh, yeah!” He grinned, happy to help. “What were you looking to get?”

“Something with bourbon.” You glanced around to find Matt turned towards you with a small smirk. “Probably a double.”

“Easy.” Foggy nodded before successfully waving down the bartender and ordering for you. “I’m Foggy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled kindly as your drink came out. “You seem to know your way around here.”

“Me and my buddies come here all the time.. I'd introduce you but…”

“But?” Your brows raised in interest while you dipped your drink.

“You see that guy over there?” He pointed over your shoulder and you swiveled in your seat to see him point at Matt. “That’s Matt.”

“Why the glasses?” You feigned ignorance.

“He’s blind.”

“Is that why you won’t introduce me?”

“No.” He laughed awkwardly. “No, not at all. See, he has this thing where he just knows when a beautiful woman is around.”

“Ah.” You nodded and turned back to Foggy. “And you think that’d be a problem?”

“Yeah.” He laughed with a nod. “Definitely.”

“Oh c’mon.” You tried with a mischievous smile, the knots in your stomach now loosening due to the liquor. “I think it’d be fun.”

Foggy sighed slightly and ran a hand over his face. You pursed your lips slightly and gave a small lift to your brows to make your eyes a little bigger to silently plead for Foggy to let you. His head dropped as he muttered to himself before he excused himself with the promise of returning.

“This just got interesting.” You mumbled into your glass as you watched Foggy talk to Matt and Karen. He gestured over to you and you sent a small wave in return. When the conversation dragged on, you grabbed your drink and headed over to join them which caused them to aggressively shush each other.

“Please.” You smiled. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Hi. I’m Karen.” Karen smiled and offered you a hand from the other side of the pool table.

“Nice to meet you.” You grinned and shook her hand. “How do you know these guys?”

“We work together.”

“Cool. What do they do?”

“Lawyers.” Matt spoke up and the smoothness of his voice made your stomach flip. “We actually have our own firm, Nelson and Murdock.”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of you guys.” You said quickly, as if a sudden realization. “You do a lot of local work, right That’s pretty cool.”

“You think so?” Matt’s brows raised as he gave you a small smirk.

“Yeah, I always thought being a lawyer would be cool but I can’t argue without crying.” You shrugged. “Instead, I just do hobbies and be an EMT.”

“Like a paramedic?” Karen asked.

“On the way.” You nodded. “Few more courses and tests, probably about a year's worth of work, give or take.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Thanks. Are you a lawyer too?”

“Office manager.” She nodded.

“But she does some really great research and investigating.” Foggy chimed in proudly, pointing a finger at his friend. “Don’t sell yourself short, Page.”

She put her hands up in surrender and you both laughed.

“So Ms. EMT, gotta be pretty good with your hands then.” Matt teased and you pushed your tongue against your cheek to block the smile. “For dressing wounds and giving care. That kind of stuff.”

“Y’know, I’ve yet to have a complaint so I gotta be doing something right.” Your head tilted and he grinned. “And you? You a hot shot lawyer or does your friend do it better?”

Matt chuckled slightly and wagged a finger at you before turning away to get his drink from the table. You blew out a small breath of relief before leaning against the pool table, sipping your own drink again. Foggy came up beside you in the meantime.

“Sorry about him.” He said nervously and you saw Matt turn back with an offended expression. You used your free hand to cover your mouth in an effort to hide your smile. “Told you, sixth sense.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment… I think?” You joked and Foggy laughed. “It’s really okay. He seems nice.”

“That’s how it starts.” Foggy sighed. “Next thing you know, he’s smooth taking you back to his apartment.”

“I’ll be careful.” You nodded. “Are you as smooth as him?”

“Lucky for you, I taught him everything he knows.” Foggy grinned. “He’s like my padawan and I’m his Yoda.”

“Jedis.” Your brows raised in interest and Foggy laughed. “I would’ve guessed that one was a sith.” You whispered as if a secret.

“Well he’s Catholic so..”

“Ah.” You nodded. “A vanilla jedi then.”

Foggy laughed and you took a glance at Matt, who was trying to keep his smirk back while crossing his arms over his chest. You tipped your drink towards him as a toast and you saw the way his body language shifted, accepting the challenge you unintentionally laid out.

“Hey, can I steal her for a second?” Karen said, suddenly at your side. “It’s just, there’s some makeup on the collar of her shirt.”

“Oh shit. Really?” You jumped up quickly and set down your drink, tugging your shirt to try and see what she meant.

“Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time. I can help.”

“Thank you.” You sighed and let her pull you into the restroom.

You leaned into the mirror but couldn’t find anything on your shirt. You turned back to Karen in confusion but she was wringing her hands.

“Everything okay?” You asked carefully. “I get the feeling the makeup thing was just a clever excuse.”

“Yeah, no, you’re fine. You look great.” She smiled quickly.

“Thanks… So what’s wrong?”

“Well… I think Matt has a girlfriend.”

“Oh..”

“He hasn’t said anything officially but he’s been on a few dates with her and just has this look after he talks to her on the phone, y’know. Anyways, um, I just… He’s charming, sure, but…”

“Right.” You nodded. “I totally understand. I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just going off what he was doing… Thanks for telling me.”

She nodded quickly before following you back to the boys. You liked that Karen stood up for your unconfirmed relationship. It really showed you could trust her. 

“… Matt Murdock’s gonna find her. And Foggy Nelson’s gonna suffer.” Foggy ranted, not noticing you two had returned. “Besides, what about that girl you’re always calling?”

“Sounds like someone’s committed.” You announced, getting both boys’ attention. “If that’s how you talk to me, I can only imagine how you talk to your special lady friend.”

“I bet you’ll have fun with that thought.” Matt countered smoothly and you flattened your palms against the side of the pool table. His brows raised and he mimicked your stance.

“What would she have to say about that?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, guys, maybe we-“ Karen tried before looking to Foggy for help while trying to pull you back.

“Dude!” Foggy urged and smacked his friend’s arm. “What are you doing?”

“I’d tone it down, Murdock.” You warned as you reached across for your drink before you straightened. “You’re not being a very good Catholic. Isn’t adultery a sin?”

“Dear God.” Matt mumbled and stood tall, backing away a few steps.

“So, Foggy.” You said when the silence got thick. “How’d you two meet?”

“We met in college. He was my roommate.” Foggy explained, patting his friend on the back. “It’s like we were soulmates.”

“Sounds like your girl’s got some competition.” You laughed. “Does she know how deep this bromance goes?”

“I’d hope so.” Foggy nodded with a small shrug. “But we won’t know till he makes a move.”

“She’s a lucky girl.” You said honestly. “With a guy like that and new friends like you two… What else could a girl want?”

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to keep joining us.” Foggy offered.

“Yeah, I’d love to be friends.” You grinned and Matt smiled proudly.

After a little while of conversation, the boys were drinking more than you and Karen were. You laughed as Foggy stumbled to the jukebox and sent up five songs that he “just had to dance to”. He grabbed Karen’s hand, which left Matt to come and get yours.

“You like dancing?” He said quietly in your ear as he pulled you against his chest.

“With the right partner.” You answered with the same tone. “I like your friends. Karen’s a real girl’s girl and Foggy’s real nice.”

“Yeah, I think they like you too.”

“And I like how they seem to already know that you’re taken without you saying it.” You smiled and he blushed slightly.  “Are you gonna say it?”

“That you’re my girlfriend?” His brows raised and you hummed in agreement. “I’d scream it from the rooftops if you wanted me to.”

“You would not.” You giggled.

“Mhmm. And if someone asked why, I’d tell them because my baby said so.”

“Your baby?” Foggy asked loudly and his sudden appearance made you jump. “This is the girl?” He nearly yelled.

“Hi.” You waved awkwardly.

“So wait.” Karen laughed slightly. “All that flirting was on purpose?”

“Yeah… But I appreciate you pulling me aside before.” You said honestly.

“Ohmygod?” Foggy continued. “I almost flirted with your girlfriend.” He whispered loudly to Matt.

“Almost?” You questioned with a laugh.

“Here to break it to you, buddy.” Matt deadpanned before breaking into a laugh. “It’s fine. We planned for that.”

“WHAT!?” Foggy yelled and you laughed again.

You were fully confident that you had a good group around you now. 

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