Matt Murdock Fluff - Tumblr Posts

My Devil, My Shadow

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Prompt - ‘Because losing her would mean losing yourself.'

The first thing Matt took notice of as he walked back into his apartment was the pulsing on the neon from the billboard outside before he focused in on you. He could hear your heartbeat and your breathing both keeping a steady pace that let him know you were asleep. Hearing you shift as the door shut gently, Matt chuckled to himself, no idea how you could fall asleep with the light show outside seeping into his living room.

He hadn’t been gone long either, only stepping out for five minutes to walk Claire down to the street after she had, once again, helped him out. The two of them exchanged words before he headed back up to you.

The Devil and you had crossed paths long ago, first before Fisk had been arrested and since then the two of you teaming up happened regularly enough that a friendship had been formed…ok so maybe Matt wanted more than just a friendship but how could he not? How could he listen to your laugh, a laugh that was able to flip his mood in a matter of seconds, a laugh that felt like a summer's day, how could he listen to you ramble on for hours on stake outs and not fall for you?

He didn’t need to see you to know you were beautiful. Matt didn’t have a mental picture of you in his head, not one like he wanted as he hadn’t had the chance to trail his fingers delicately across your features, the chance to cup your face in his hands, a chance to feel the way you smiled under them. He couldn’t even ask Foggy what you looked like as every picture captured of you showed the suit you wore, like him your face was hidden from the world, the all black fabric helped you blend into the night so the media had, rather creatively, dubbed you Shadow.

Matt remembered the first time you had been written about, how you waved the paper in his face as you told him the name you’d been given.

“Shadow?” You laughed as the two of you sat together on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge as the sounds of the city passed. “I mean out of all the names they could have chosen, Shadow? A bit on the nose, right?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said, grinning ahead, “It does suit you, I mean now that I think about it you are like my own shadow.”

He was fully prepared for the smack to the chest he received for that one but Matt didn’t need to see you to know you were smiling too.

Tonight had been bad.

Matt hadn’t heard from you for a few days, the two of you had burner phones with only the other's number saved to it. Most nights you found each other in the middle of a fight or perched on a rooftop. After three or so days Matt had begun to worry that you had gotten hurt, surely you would have called him though?

After a bit of digging he finally got a lead, apparently you were investigating a human trafficking ring that had recently popped up in the Kitchen and they didn’t like that you were getting too close.

Nobody had seen you since.

It hadn’t taken Matt long from there to get a location, panic running through him but he pushed it down and focused all his senses on finding you. He couldn’t lose you, not when he had gotten so little time with you. His blood ran cold at the thought of finding you dead, no grounding heartbeat for him to listen to, no laugh or small touches.

Frank’s words about Matt being one bad day away from turning into him seemed to hit a bit too close right now and he forced the words from his head.

Matt shook his head, forcing himself to focus as he took out the guards at the front of an abandoned building. He could count at least ten more heartbeats inside and froze for a moment, titling his head as he listened to each one, desperately hoping that one of them was yours.

There, he thought, it was unsteady and weak but it was yours. You were still alive but Matt could hear your breathing was also laboured and with that he made quick work of taking out the rest of guards before following your heartbeat.

Matt found the room you were in and didn’t hesitate to push the door open with a loud bang, shocking the lone guard who had been left with you. He used the man's shock to his advantage and with a quick few punches the man was out cold.

He didn’t waste any time turning his attention to you, kneeling down in front of you and untying your hands. At this point you could barely keep your eyes open, it hurt to breathe but you pushed through the pain to look at the Devil who rescued you.

“It’s good to see you, D.” You whispered, voice strained from screaming.

Matt let out a wet chuckle as he heard your breathing, determining you had at least three cracked ribs. He finally let his hands trail your body starting at your wrists and wincing at the cuts, he gently ran his hands up your arms, feeling more cuts and forming bruises, before he came to your shoulders.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” He said just as softly, voice thick with emotion as he let himself touch your face.

He started by placing his hands on your jawline before moving up to cup your cheeks. He felt your lips twitch into a smile followed by a hiss of pain and a metallic smell that told him you’d reopened your split lips. Before he pulled away he let his thumb trace your cheekbone, smiling himself as he felt you lean into the touch.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, gently helping you to stand before taking your weight as he led you from the building, burner phone already in his hand as he called for Claire.

“Didn’t I stitch you back together yesterday?” She asked as soon as she picked up the phone, causing Matt to smile.

“It’s not me this time,” Matt told her, frowning as you let out a soft groan.

“You found her?” Claire asked.

“I found her,” he confirmed, “my place is closer if you-”

“I’ll meet you there.” She told him before saying goodbye.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long walk and the fresh air was helping you come to faster. Once you were completely aware of your surroundings you froze causing Matt to stumble slightly as he still had you leaning heavily against him.

“Shadow?” He asked in concern, tilting his head as he tried to determine if you had aggravated any of your injuries.

“My mask,” You said, still looking at Matt. Matt’s eyes widened under his own mask as he too realised that you thought he could see your face. “You know who I am.”

And what was Matt supposed to say? Actually your identity is still a secret because I’m blind but please don’t freak out, yeah that’d go down well. Though part of him did want to tell you who he was, part of him had been thinking about taking the mask off for a while now. He liked you and he didn’t just want to know you as Shadow or have you only know the Devil, he wanted you to incorporate yourself into every part of Matt Murdock’s life and him into your life, he wanted to know everything about you, starting with your name.

Once you were better, Matt promised himself, once you were better he’d tell you who he was. Now his only priority was getting you back to his apartment and into Claire’s hands.

“I’m fine really.” You insisted, watching as the Devil smiled and Claire rolled her eyes.

“If I don’t stitch the wound, it’ll just keep bleeding and you’ll get an infection, trust me you want to deal with this now.” The nurse told you, ignoring your pout as she leaned closer to you and began closing the wound.

You let out a cry of pain as the needle did its work but Matt sat on the floor next to the sofa, your hand in his, and kept up a steady one-sided conversation that helped distract you.

“A couple of blocks away there’s a group celebrating a birthday, it’s the boys 21st. They’re all singing to him and it’s not bad considering the amount of alcohol in their system,” Matt felt you shift on the sofa so that you were facing him and smiled to himself.

“Two floors down a baby is crying, she’s hungry but her mom is really stressed out. She doesn’t know what to do so she’s trying to rock her to sleep. About five blocks to the right a group of students are out drinking after finishing their finals, one of them is sober and making sure another doesn’t wander off.”

This was something the two of you had done since you found out exactly what Matt’s abilities were. On the quieter times of your shared moments together you always asked him to tell you about the city and Matt was always more than happy to comply, the two of you laying on a rooftop somewhere and the words whispered only for you to hear. He felt your breathing soften, no longer focused on Claire stitching your torso but solely on Matt’s words, he couldn’t fight back the smile as he squeezed your hand.

Claire watched on with a raised eyebrow. It had been so long since she’d seen Matt like this, oftentimes he was far too stressed and pushing himself to the limit but since this Shadow, since you, came onto the scene Matt had started taking it easier, still doing his job but there was a softness to him now. So when he showed up bruised, beaten and bleeding but determined to get back out there she had been scared for him. Finding out you had gone missing was enough to send Matt spiralling so she hated to think just how he’d react to finding you dead.

She wasn’t sure Matt would survive that.

It wasn’t long before Claire was pulling off her gloves and giving you care advice that she just knew you wouldn’t follow, not if you were anything like Matt.

“Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t rip her stitches.” Claire told Matt as she packed her bag.

“I’ll keep her safe.” Matt told her and she didn’t doubt those words for even a second. As far as she was concerned you held a lot of power over Matt, if something happened to you that might be the push he needed to cross the line he never wanted to cross.

She watched as you smiled up at Matt, it was a tired smile but my god was it blinding. Claire knew then that as far as you had gotten Matt wrapped around your little finger he was just as tightly wound around yours.

“I’ll walk you out,” Matt told her before turning to you, “Will you be okay?” He asked softly and Claire almost felt bad that Matt couldn’t see just how you were looking at him.

“For the few minutes you’ll be gone, I think I can manage to stay alive.” You grinned up at him causing him to roll his eyes. “Thank you, Claire.” You said, waving at her as the two of them left the apartment, leaving you alone to sink further into the sofa.

You shut your eyes tightly as thoughts of the men who attacked you filled your head and accidentally ended up falling asleep.

“She likes you, you know?” Claire told him as they walked down the stairs.

“You think?” He asked, sure he could feel your heartbeat and the way your cheeks flushed but could you like him, was it possible for you to feel the same way he did? “Trust me, if you could see the way she looked at you, you’d have no doubts,” Claire said and the steady beat of her heart showed she meant the words, filling Matt with hope. If Claire didn’t think he stood a chance with you she would have told him no matter how much it’d hurt. “You ever going to show her the person under the mask?”

Matt stayed silent as they descended down another flight of stairs before speaking.

“When she’s better. She’s been through enough. The last thing I want is for her to panic over the whole,” Here Matt paused to wave a hand in front of his face, “blind thing.”

“She knows what you can do.” Claire told him and Matt nodded because sure you knew his abilities but finding out a blind person could do the things he could, it would come as a shock and then you’d panic over him before calming down.

“She does,” he agreed easily, “but even without that I can’t just go up and tell her now, she can’t get up and walk out of my apartment if she wanted to.”

“Matt, listen to me,” Claire said as they came to the door, turning to face him as she spoke, “She isn’t going to leave when you take the mask off, I promise you. Plus she’s going to be a pain when it comes to healing and cleaning her stitches so she’s going to need something to take her mind off it. I say you tell her first chance you get. You deserve to be happy, you, Matt Murdock.”

Matt gave her a shaky smile because it was exactly what he needed to hear. There was a part of him that felt selfish but Claire was right, he deserved to be happy and nothing could possibly make him happier than you.

“Thank you, Claire.” He said softly.

“I’m glad you found each other.” She told him, tone matching his, and with that she left the apartment building leaving Matt alone with a grin on his face.

As he reentered his apartment, taking in the neon pulsing through the billboard outside and your soft, even breathing, he paused in the entryway, leaning against the wall and just let himself listen to you for a moment. He listened to you breathe, letting him know you were alive, he had saved you before they could do anymore damage. Despite the stitches and the bruises you were ok, you would be ok.

Matt would make sure of it.

With soft steps he made his way over to the sofa and picked you up in his arms, smiling as you curled into him, murmuring words he couldn’t catch. He was gentle as he placed you on his bed and wrapped the blanket around you, hesitating for only a moment before he allowed himself to lean down and kiss your head.

Claire was right because of course she was and Matt vowed to show you the man under the mask, vowed to tell you how he felt because he had come too close to losing you.

-

The next morning you woke up with a groan, hand going to your side before pausing and remembering the stitches. As you shifted your eyebrows knitted together as you felt the softness of the sheets and opened your eyes to see what was most definitely not your bedroom.

Hadn’t you fallen asleep on the Devil’s sofa?

With a shrug you pulled yourself into a sitting position, wincing at the ache in your torso, before the smell of food invaded your senses and it hit you just how hungry you were. It took a few attempts for you to stand up but you managed and padded out of the bedroom and saw the Devil cooking breakfast.

“Morning.” You said softly.

The Devil turned to smile at you, that smile always made your heart beat faster and never failed to put a smile on your own face. It was one of the first things you’d loved about him.

“Good morning,” He said as he placed the pan on the counter before making his way around to you, hand hovering over your wound before you nodded at him, that was the permission he needed to gently examine the stitches before he pulled away and pulled a chair out for you. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It wasn’t long before you and Matt were sitting next to each other with a plate of food in front of you. You dug in, not having eaten anything of substance for however long you were captured.

Matt made light conversation though he knew you had picked up on his nervousness. He figured it was best to rip the bandaid off and tell you as soon as possible.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you, something I should have told you months ago, something that shouldn’t have taken me nearly losing you to admit too.” He began and he felt your heartbeat quicken as he did, he didn’t know whether it was a good sign or not but he’d started now. “I really like you, Shadow, I have for a long time now. Being with you makes everything feel so much better, you make everything easier. I want you in my life, not just the Devil’s but in mine.” And with that Matt let his hands reach for the mask, your eyes widening as he did, before he gently pulled it off and placed it on the table.

It was silent for far too long in Matt’s opinion, your heartbeat hadn’t settled down yet and he could sense your mouth moving but no words came out. He was just about ready to jam the mask back on and pretend all this hadn’t happened when you spoke.

“Y/N,” You blurted out and Matt could tell it wasn’t what you had meant to say but still you continued, “My name’s Y/N.”

“Matt.” He told you and, God, didn’t his smile look even better now that you could see his whole face, see the way his eyes crinkled and his face lit up. “So,” Matt began but you cut him off.

“Sorry, sorry, I like you too, Matt. I have done for so long and I-I’m so glad it was you who saved me last night, I wanted it to be you so bad.” You told him, smiling as he leaned forward and cupped your cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, feeling you nod and with that he leaned forward softly pressing your lips together.

The kiss started off slow and soft but eventually it heated up, the kiss conveying all those months of hiding your feelings, making up for all the times you could have kissed but didn’t.

Eventually Matt pulled away but didn’t didn’t go far as he rested his forehead against yours. The silence spread for a long while, the two of you more than happy to stay in your own little bubble where the other was safe.

You broke it though once something clicked in your head now that you had gotten the confession out of the way.

“You’re blind.” You told him watching as he pulled away from you.

“So I’ve been told.” He chuckled, feeling slightly self conscious now that he didn’t have the mask to cover his eyes but hearing your laugh was enough to push those feelings aside.

“Shut up,” you laughed, “Matt I’ve seen what you can do-”

“And you know how enhanced my other senses are,” He told you, gently cutting you off. “I don’t need sight to see, my other senses make up for it. Like right now I don’t need to see you to know that your eyebrows are furrowed together or that you're biting your lip to hold back a smile. I don’t need to see you to know that your cheeks are flushed making you look even more adorable.” He said, taking great delight in both your giggle and the gentle smack to his chest.

“You really can’t see?” You asked in amazement.

Matt was right you had seen what he was capable of, the man could do things that people with fully functioning sight couldn’t do. His enhanced senses allowed him to easily beat groups of people up without a single gun. You were in awe of his fighting style before, how he always seemed to be two steps ahead of his opponent but now you were even more amazed.

“Not conventionally.” Matt said, causing you to laugh.

“You’re incredible.” You told him before leaning in to kiss the smirk off his lips.

“You know I’ll keep you safe right?” Matt asked softly as the two of you pulled away, Matt’s face shifting with the words, he felt you reach up and cup his cheek, recalling the words Foggy used, Matt Murdock wore his emotions on his face. You could see how determined he was to keep his promise, how much it had scared him when you’d gone missing.

So instead of telling him you were more than capable of protecting yourself, something you had always told him when you’d first met before you finally let him past your walls, you nodded.

“You watch my back, I watch yours, right D?” You questioned back instead because that was the way things were between the two of you, had been for as long as you’d been working together. You protected your Devil and he, well he would…

“Always protect you, my shadow.” He murmured before pulling you in for another kiss that conveyed just how much he meant his words.

_______

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Again and Again

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Febuwhump Prompt - head wound

Prompt - ‘No matter what I'll be there to patch you up time and time again.'

A loud thud had you blinking awake in confusion. You lay still for a moment, not moving and silent as you listened, waiting for another sign of movement. When none came you groaned softly and scrunched your eyes together, blindly reaching your hand out for your phone and squinting against the bright light before letting out another groan at the early morning hour.

As you threw your phone onto the bed you reached a hand out to the other side, frowning as it was still as empty as it was when you had fallen asleep - Matt wasn’t home then.

Another thud had you sitting up, looking from the empty side of the bed and then back towards the door leading out into the living room. Since finding out about Daredevil you were used to Matt sneaking in at odd hours but he was usually silent, hardly ever waking you as he changed out of his suit and climbed into bed with you.

This was the first time you’d woken up to quiet bangs echoing through the apartment.

Reluctantly, you let the silk sheets fall from your body, wincing as your bare feet touched the cold floor. You blinked harshly against the neon lights that flooded the living room before your eyes fell on Matt who sat sprawled out on the foot of the stairs.

“Hey,” You called softly, making your way over to him and crouching down so you were face to face. “What happened?”

Matt didn’t reply. You watched as his head titled before letting it fall back against the bannister with a soft thud causing you to frown.

You reached forward, hands running gently along the mask before you made quick but careful work of pulling it off, wincing as a trail of blood became visible to you.

“Shit Matt.” You said quietly, more to yourself than him, unsure of what to do.

He was obviously concussed, the way he was swaying slightly and the way his eyes kept falling closed told you as much. The blood, you paused as you looked at it, there was a lot of it, too much. You hadn’t seen Matt hurt before, nothing more than some bruises here or there, the occasional stitches that were already taken care of by the time you saw him.

You watched as Matt shifted, trying to pull something out of his pocket but you quickly stopped him, not wanting him to make any other injuries worse.

“Claire.” He slurred out, sounding drunk.

“Claire.” You repeated in relief, fishing the burner phone out of his pocket yourself.

You listened as the phone continued to ring, praying that she would answer and almost sobbed in relief as you had the unfamiliar woman’s voice.

“Please don’t tell me you’re dying when I’m out of town.” Now you could have sobbed in disbelief, she wasn’t in Hell’s Kitchen and Matt was bleeding, badly.

“Matt?” Claire said into the phone when she received no reply, her stomach filling with dread as the seconds passed by.

“He’s bleeding.” You managed to say after taking a deep breath.

“Who is thi-” Claire began but cut herself off, “Y/N?” She asked instead.

“Yes,” You said quietly, not taking your eyes off Matt. “He’s bleeding and I don’t know what to do.” You told her again.

“Okay, where’s he bleeding?” Claire asked, her voice firm but gentle. How often had she heard Matt talk about you like you were something the world had never seen before? She knew he tried to keep you out of Daredevil business as much as he could, patching himself up at her place rather than doing it where you could see. She knew you must be panicking right now and she was not looking forward to trying to talk you through how to patch the man up.

“His head, I don’t know if he’s bleeding anywhere else.” You couldn’t see any damage to the suit and you just prayed that this was the worst of it.

Matt let his eyes fall close and as his breathing slowed down you felt yourself slip further into a panic.

“Hey, hey,” You said, shaking him, “Don’t you dare go to sleep.”

Matt managed a weak nod and you listened as Claire spoke again.

“Ok, you’re doing a great job not letting him sleep. Now listen, I need you to grab his med kit and tell me what he has, okay?”

Claire listened as you rummaged around before pulling out the first aid kit and making your way back over to him, giving him a panicked shake as you saw his eyes closed.

“M’okay baby.” He slurred out, giving you a reassuring smile that did little to calm your fears.

You listed all the things in the kit off to Claire who nodded and began to walk you through it.

“Ok, I need you to put some gloves on and get some cool water in a bowl,” You didn’t want to leave Matt alone for even a second but you knew you had to listen to Claire so put her on speaker before going to do as she said, one eye on Matt the whole time.

“I have it.” You told her softly, brushing your gloved fingers along Matt’s knuckles as you did.

Matt managed a weak smile in your direction.

“Okay, good. Now you have to clean the cut and as much of the blood as you can.” She told you, causing you to frown but you listened to the woman at the other end of the phone and brought a clean, wet cloth up to the cut.

Matt winced, you mirroring the movement as he did.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered as you tried to clean the cut as gently as possible. It took a few minutes until you managed to clean most of the blood, though some still pooled around the wound.

“It’s clean.” You said in the direction of the phone that rested on the ground next to the first aid kit.

“You’re doing great, Y/N.” Claire told you, “Is it still bleeding?” She really hoped it wasn’t because then she’d have to talk you through how to stitch him up with a needle and she really didn’t think you could handle that.

“Yeah, a little bit.” A little bit, Claire could work with that…hopefully.

“I need you to apply pressure to it, alright? Just for a few minutes to see if we can stop the bleeding.”

Your eyes widened in sympathy as Matt let out a hiss of pain, using your free hand to take one of his in yours and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You’re okay,” You told him, hoping you were right but you knew Matt trusted Claire and so all you had to do was trust him. “I’ve got you.”

You continued to whisper comforting words, not sure if they were for Matt or yourself at that point as you pressed the cloth against the wound.

“Is it still bleeding?” Claire asked after five minutes had passed, letting out a sigh of relief as you told her it wasn’t. “Good, that’s really good.”

Claire directed you to the butterfly stitches and you made quick work of finding and unpackaging them, feeling uneasy as you looked from them to Matt.

“Pay attention now, ok? You need to push the two sides of the wound together, close as you can.” You did as she told you, apologising as Matt let out a pained breath, “Good, now you have to put the stitches on…”

You listened carefully as Claire walked you through it, watching as Matt winced in pain causing you to frown but you carried on like Claire said.

“That’s it, you’re done,” Claire said, causing you to deflate in relief. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” You said, pausing to take a shaky breath, “Thank you for helping him.”

“It’s what I do,” Claire smiled, “He should be good to go to bed now, just keep a close eye on him and call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you again, Claire.” You said, glad that Matt had her in his life.

“You’re welcome.” She said before hanging up and leaving you to deal with a concussed Matt.

It took more than a few tries to get him upright before you practically dragged him into the bedroom. Getting the suit off him was a struggle but eventually you managed to pull it off, smiling in relief as you saw nothing but a few bruises on his torso.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You said as you guided him onto his side and pulled the sheets around him before heading back to your side.

Any tiredness you had felt when you had first woken up was gone as fear and adrenaline ran through your veins, determined to stay up all night to make sure Matt’s breathing stayed steady.

You watched as Matt turned his head toward you, his eyes fighting to stay open, as he reached for your hand before bringing it up to his lips.

“Thank you,” He whispered against your knuckles, causing you to smile.

“Go to sleep Matt.” You said, voice as quiet as his.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that.” He told you, clearly struggling to speak clearly but somehow managing to.

You let yourself smile at him, smile at the fact that he was the one bleeding out not even ten minutes again, the one who was clearly involved in something terrible before, the one who was risking his life to make his city safer and the one who was more concerned for your wellbeing than his own.

Matt Murdock really was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

“I’d do it again and again.” You told him honestly, not even surprised by how much you meant those words. Sure when you first started dating Matt you hardly expected all this to come with it but even now you wouldn’t give him or Daredevil up for the world.

“Too good for me.” Matt mumbled as he shifted, pulling you closer to him so your head rested on his chest.

“Sleep.” You commanded with a soft laugh.

“Love you.” Matt murmured against your hair before pressing a lingering kiss there.

As you listened to his breathing even out you couldn’t help the soft laugh that left your lips, feeling safe in the comfort of his arms, glad that he was safe.

“I love you too.” You whispered into the darkness, ready to spend the night making sure he was okay.

You didn’t remember falling asleep but you woke up in the morning to fingers gently brushing up and down your arm, the room lit up softly as the morning sun shone through the window.

A smile spread across your face as you stretched, shifting so you were looking up at Matt who smiled down at you.

“Good morning.” Matt said quietly, looking better than he had last night.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked, voice thick with sleep causing Matt’s smile to widen as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Better, thanks to you.” He said honestly, “You shouldn’t have had to do that.” Matt told you again, feeling guilty for letting you see him like that, for forcing you to be the one to patch him up.

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right,” You told him with an eye roll, “I should've just left you to bleed out on the staircase.”

“Come on,” Matt chuckled, “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You told him, leaning up to kiss his jaw, “I meant what I said last night, Matt, I’d patch you up a thousand times, though I won’t be mad if you’d rather go to Claire.”

“I don’t know you’re a pretty cute nurse.” Matt murmured, leaning down and softly connecting his lips to yours.

Matt shifted so that he was hovering over you, keeping the kiss soft and slow. He felt you smile into the kiss and felt himself fall further in love with you, something he didn't think was possible.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your lips, pulling back enough to do so, smiling as you giggled.

“I love you too,” you told him, leaning up to capture his lips against yours again, content to spend the day in bed with Matt and if he pouted and whined dramatically to gain some sympathy from you then neither of you were complaining.

________

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No Yelling, Please

Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

You comfort a frightened Matt after yelling at him

Dragging the window up, you help your husband through and into the lounge. “For fuck’s sake, Matt,” you mumble, knowing he heard you.

“I’m fine,” he says as you take his helmet off once he was seated on the couch. He raises his arms to have his shirt peeled off before he wraps his arms around your neck so you could take his pants off.

Sitting back down, he hears you walk away to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and putting his bloodied clothes in the hamper.

Coming back out to the lounge, you start to raise your voice. “You’ve gotta stop coming home to bleed out like a fucking fountain! What would happen if you don’t come home and you’re out in an alleyway, bleeding out and none of us knew where the fuck you were?!”

Sitting yourself on his lap, Matt’s hands rest themselves under your over-sized hoodie and on your thighs, feeling the bottom of your underwear. 

“What if I get that one phone call that you’re in hospital, on the verge of death? Or that I have to find out from Foggy or Karen? Huh?!”

Continuing on with your little rant and cleaning his wounds, you don’t notice that tears were about to spill from his eyes.

Feeling his hands slightly squish your thighs, you look at him. “No yelling, please.” You heard him say. 

You had completely forgot that yelling or screaming would hurt his ears, since his hearing was stronger than yours.

Immediately, you stop what you’re doing to have your hands shakily reach out for his face. “Oh, Matty. I’m so sorry.”

His bottom lip wobbles as some tears spill out. You cup his face to bring it down to your neck. As soon as he feels your neck and pulse, he nuzzles your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your hips, bringing your body more into his.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision as you rest your head against his. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Matt feels one of your hands rest at the nape of his neck, fingers buried in his hair, and the other rubbing his back. “Love you, Matty,” you say softly.

Tags (which I forgot to do)

@spnfanboy777 @lilian-maximoff (for Marvel MLM)

Heya! Hope you’re doing well.

1. Could I be added to the MCU tag list? :]

2. Can I request a Matt Murdock X Male Reader?

Preferably something fluffy? Maybe them making up after a little fight about him being Daredevil? I honestly don’t have many ideas at the time- sorry- I just loved your other Matt fic so much.

Keep up the good work!!

Hey, I'm doing okay, thank you, hope you're doing well too. You're added to the MCU list :) and I'll try my best with this. I just went off the top of my head

After finding out that your boyfriend, Matt Murdock, is the masked vigilante of Hell's Kitchen, you were beyond pissed.

Being snuggled up in one of your hoodies that Matt likes to steal, wearing your comfy sweatpants and socks, you had a book in hand, catching up in the recent book series.

As you were about to flip the page, the body of your boyfriend comes tumbling through, making a ruckus, and almost making you shit your pants.

Once you helped him on the couch and the mask was off, you got to cleaning his wounds whilst trying not to punch him awake.

When he made a noise for his awakening around an hour later and winces from the bruising on his sides as he tried to get up, he felt your hands on his face to squish his cheeks.

"You are insane!"

Walking to the kitchen, you fill a cup with water and grab some painkillers before going back to the man on the couch.

“How can you keep this from me, Matt?” Sitting on the table with the cup next to you, you grab his hand to put the pills in his palm before wrapping his hand around the cup once he had the pills. “You gonna answer?”

“Mm, no.”

Smacking him on the side of the head, you stand up again, hearing him say ‘ow’. “I’ll make something worth saying ‘ow’.”

“I know. You’re awfully calm for finding out about me.” He leans his head back, resting it on the couch’s backrest.

“You know I’m hiding the fact that I’m super pissed angry that I might as well turn into the Hulk.” Leaning against the counter top, Matt chuckles quietly. “Heard that, prick.”

Raising both arms up and winces from the bruises again, he makes a grabbing motion with his hands. 

Rolling your eyes, you’re on your way over to him and to sit on his lap. His hands go under your hoodie, and to have some of his fingers in the band of your sweatpants.

Cupping his face and squishing his cheeks again, his lips go into a pout. “You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

“No.”

Releasing his face, you rest your forehead against his. “I love you,” you heard him say softly.

Taking the hoodie off, you slip it onto him, leaving you shirtless. He brings one of your hands up to his face, holding it against his face.

Moving off his lap and laying against the armrest, you slip a leg behind him to hook it around his body. He moves, so his body is laying on top of yours and his head in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, too, baby.”

Marvel Tags @lilian-maximoff @spnfanboy777 @blurredx18 @wolf-knights @emmaandkodak17 

The Lawyers 3

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader

Words: 630

Crashing through your apartment’s window in the very early morning, you groan in pain as you land on your wounded side, which is covered in blood and bruises. “Fuck.”

“Never would have thought I’d hear that leave your mouth.” After hearing the voice, you jump to your feet, a plant pot in hand, ready to throw.

“What the fuck, Frank?” The pot plant slips out of your hand, splitting into pieces of shards and dirt. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

“Came through the same window you came in, but I didn’t fall over.”

“I- why are you here?”

“I heard about you and Red, wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Why start now?” Placing a hand on your wound, you walk to the bathroom, Frank following you. As soon as you sit on the side of the tub, Frank leans against the doorframe. “Why start caring now? You don’t give a shit about him, and you and I haven’t talked since him and I got together, only when we see each other on some night jobs.”

“Where’s your kit?” Pointing at the sink, he goes to it to grab the first aid kit at the bottom of him. You watch him do it before he kneels in front of you, in between your legs. 

His hands grab the bottom of your shirt, waiting for the go-to. He sees you raise your arms as far as they could go, letting him peel your shirt off to show a slash across your stomach, blood continuing to pool out.

As he cleans away at it, he lets you fist his shirt. He watches the blood flow down to your legs and collect on the sides of the bathtub. 

“You can’t keep going out, especially if this is what happens.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s doing anything, or you.”

Once finished and the wound is bandaged, Frank stands up, still in between your legs. He watches you lean your head against his stomach. “I don’t know what to do, Frank.”

Nothing is said for a short moment before you feel his hands cup your face, lifting it up to meet his. As soon as you look into his eyes, his lips are pressed against yours. 

Separating from the kiss, your foreheads are pressed against each other. 

“(Y/N)?!” The both of you hear from the lounge.

“Bathroom!” Footsteps come to the said room, having enough time for Frank to be leaning against the sink and not like the both of you just kissed.

“I’ve been trying to call- oh fuck! What happened?” Karen exclaimed, eyes widened. 

“Work,” was all that was said from you, which she knew what you meant.

“Have you heard from Matt?”

“No, not since I left the office after yesterday morning with your coffees.”

“And why would they hear from him?” Frank asks, getting Karen’s attention.

“I’m sorry, why does it concern you, Castle?”

“Because I’m their friend, and I care about them.” Frank gets up from the sink and walks towards her. He stops when you step in front of him.

“Go make something to eat,” you tell him. Looking back at Karen, he walks out of the bathroom and to the kitchen.

As you sit back down on the tub, Karen crosses her arms. “When did he get here?”

“When I came back from patrol, which was around 10 minutes ago. He helped me with the cut,” you answered, pointing at the bandage. “Now, why are you asking about Matt?”

“He didn’t come to work today and he usually calls one of us that he won’t come in, which is very rare. When Foggy and I went to his apartment, he wasn’t there. Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“My best bet is that he’s at hers.”

MARVEL TAGS

@spnfanboy777 - @wolf-knights - @blurredx18 - @emmaandkodak - @chrisevansangel

SERIES TAGS

@yarrystyleeza​

The Lawyers 4

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader, Matt Murdock x Jennifer Walters

Words: 535

Standing outside his apartment door, you hear both of their voices more clearly than Karen and Frank do. “Yeah, Karen, they’re in there. He must've forgotten to call in.”

“It's very unusual for him not to call in though, and you know this.” She gives you a soft, knowing look.

As the three of you start to walk away, the door opens to reveal Matt, his hair standing all over the place, him fumbling with his pants. “Karen?” He hears her heartbeat before hearing yours and softly calling your name, completely ignoring Frank.

You immediately knew that he had sex with the woman who claimed that they haven’t done it since the second time and it was a one time fling. “I hope she’s fucking worth it, Matthew.”

He knew he was in trouble when you used his whole name, but it broke his heart more when you used it from finding out he fucked the same woman he fucked his relationship with again.

“Don’t bother coming into work today, Matt. Foggy and I aren’t gonna be there.” Karen says before following after you. Frank says nothing as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against and walks after you and Karen. 

Karen had messaged Foggy to meet at Fogwell’s. As soon as he walks through the door, he almost jumps out of his skin as the punching bag goes flying towards him. “Fucking flying- you almost killed me!” He gets nothing said in return from you as you try to calm your heaving chest. 

“Let’s go, Foggy. We’re going for a walk.” Karen pushes him out.

“But I just got here.”

“Too bad.”

Once they’re out of Fogwell’s, you’re now leaning against the bottom ring rope. “Let me see your hands.” You hear Frank say as he steps into your vision, about to touch your hands.

Feeling a bit too overwhelmed to be touched right now, you immediately stand up, your hands away from him. “Don't. Just- don't.” You walk away from him and to the punching bag that flew like a fucking eagle towards one of your friends.

An eagle that is 68kg and used for punching, or making it near attack someone.

Once you pick it up, sand starts to pour. It doesn’t help you being so overwhelmed, so in this case, with all of your strength, you throw it to the other side of the building, mostly by where Frank is.

“Is today the day to kill everyone with the fucking punching bag?” He asks, grumpily and sarcastically.

“Today is the day is where I am so fucking confused with what’s going on.” Before Frank could say anything, you continue. “My fucking ex goes back to the woman he’s been fucking for the unknown millionth time after the both of them saying it was nothing.” You start to unwrap the bandages on your hands to reveal reddened and slightly bleeding knuckles. “My ex best friend and I kissed, to which I don’t know where either of our feelings are. And my said fucking ex is here with his woman.” 

Turning around, Jennifer is standing behind a baffled Matt and in the doorway. “Out of all the people, you kissed him?”

Marvel Tags:

@spnfanboy777 // @wolf-knights // @blurredx18 // @buckysbrattybaby // @chrisevansangel // @misha-collins-is-a-dilf

The Lawyers Series Tags:

@yarrystyleeza // @arsonfrogger

i neeeeed a part 2 of this

I Heard Love is Blind (Matt Murdock x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: Soooo sorry this took so long. I’ve taken the last week off from writing to travel for the holidays. As for this fic, I’m well aware that this isn’t how visual impairment typically works but being that I’m writing in a universe where superheroes exist, I’m asking y’all to suspend your beliefs for a few minutes. The end of this fic was just a little fun idea that I had as I was writing it. It's short and sweet (around 1.3k words). I hope y’all enjoy!

Request: Hello! So, the reader is becomes blind because of a disease or something... whatever... and she in hospital room with matt with her, then doctor comes and tells them she cannot be able to see ever again. She doesn't want to cry while matt is there because she thinks he can be offended or something, but she cannot help herself and matt tries to comfort her? What do you say?

Summary: Matt helps you sort through your feelings after you have an accident and lose your sight. You struggle with opening up to him fully because you don’t want to hurt him.

(Warnings: female!reader, references to (but no detail of) an accident, newly visually impaired reader, angst, soft!matty, protective!matty, references to a possible female daredevil towards the end)

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was an accident, really, but the overwhelming feeling of dread hadn’t left your system since you’d been hoisted into the ambulance that brought you to the hospital. Matt was right behind you, of course, arriving at the E.R. entrance at the same time you did, lurking in the corner of the hospital room as doctor after doctor examined you.

You couldn’t help but jump when a new set of hands began to poke and prod around your eyes. You couldn’t see them, hadn’t been able to see anything since the accident, and they didn’t announce themselves. Or maybe they did, and you weren’t listening. You didn’t know. The world around you had become a blur of noises, an overwhelming rush of sensory overload that you were too exhausted to try and figure out.

Your name had been murmured by countless doctors, but your ability to respond was muted by the pounding of your heart in your ears. A firm, warm hand rested on your shoulder, and Matt’s cologne wafted into your nose. The outside world once again became background noise as Matt lightly squeezed your shoulder. You had the sudden urge to giggle at how backwards this predicament was. Normally, it was you grounding him when the noise became too much to bear. Now, he was fulfilling your position – providing a distraction to focus on until everything – the world, it’s chaos – settled.

“No pupillary response.” One doctor muttered in a melancholy, but professional tone. The scribble of a pen on paper sent goosebumps down your spine.  

When the words “possible permanent blindness” passed through hushed whispers around the room, you didn’t flinch, all too aware of the blind man you’d fallen in love with sensing your every move. Your lack of reaction was cause for concern from everyone in the room, most of all Matt, who hadn’t uttered a word since the accident.

“Can she have a second?” He murmured softly, ushering the nurses and doctors out of the room faster than should’ve been possible. He always did have a way of making people do what he wanted them to do, though you didn’t think he was aware of the effect he had on people. Not completely, at least.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed in your ears, and you got the sense that every bad feeling you’d been ignoring since this began was about to force its way out of you. Matt’s sigh as he sat down next to you snapped you out of it, and you blinked away the tears that had begun forming.

It wasn’t fair to cry over this in front of him. You shouldn’t be mourning the loss of something he had lived without since he was a kid. Not in front of him, at least.

“You’re handling all this remarkably well. Better than I did.”

Matt didn’t say this with malice or malcontent. Rather, an astute observation on his part. Almost entirely lawyerly if you had to pinpoint his tone.

“You were nine, Matt, and we don’t know that it’s permanent.” You muttered, the first words you’d spoken since you’d lost the ability to see.

“Still.” You felt him shrug. You reached out your hand, feeling around the sheets until your fingers met the skin of his wrist. He didn’t miss a beat, intertwining his fingers with yours as soon as your skin met his. He lifted your hand, planting a small kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re allowed to be upset about this.” He mumbled against your hand. “I can feel the energy in you. Let it out, sweetheart.”

“Matty, I can’t just– It’s not fair to you that I– It wouldn’t be right.” You groaned, blinking back the fresh wave of tears trying to force their way out of your eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Even if it’s not permanent, this is still a big change for you. You’re allowed to mourn this.”

A few tears escaped as he spoke, and the only thing keeping you from furiously wiping them away was Matt’s hand, already there, softly stroking your cheek as you tried your hardest not to fall apart in his hands.

“What if it is?” You mumbled, sniffling.

“What if it’s what?” He asked, ghosting over your eyelids with his thumb.

“What if it’s permanent, Matty?” You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Furious tears cascaded down your face, and you let out an ugly sob as you revealed the horrible thoughts you’d been trying so hard to hide.

Matt allowed you to sob into his chest, cradling you against him as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. His dress shirt, the one you loved so much, the one he wore to work today because you wanted to see him in it, was soaked with tears before he finally spoke.

“It’s not fair that you’re going through this, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could change it. But I know you can handle it, okay? You’re strong enough to do this, and you’ll have help. We’ll figure it out, baby.”

You nodded into his chest, unable to form a coherent sentence in response.

“Sweet girl,” Matt cooed, kissing your hair, “You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling from me, ever, okay? I know it’s frustrating – trust me, I know better than anyone what you’re going through right now – but it does get easier. I promise.”

You wiped the tears from your face, careful to avoid your eyes. Goosebumps bristled on the back of your neck when the sound of a car horn loudly echoed in your ears. You couldn’t keep your hands from clamping over the sides of your head in response.

“The world is so loud, Matt. I don’t know how you handle it all the time.”

Matt lifted your hand to his face so you could feel the indents of his cheek as he smiled.

“You get used to the noises after a while. They become a sort of…white noise, I guess you could call it. Is the beeping of the heart monitor bothering you?”

“No, it’s the cars. This city is so loud.”

Matt stiffened, tightening his grip on your hand.

“What do you mean?” He asked, breathing into your palm.

 Another loud honk blared in your head, and you couldn’t stop your body from cringing into a ball.

“Don’t tell me you can’t hear that.” You mumbled, shaking your head to try and rid the echo of the horns from your ears.

“No, I can hear it. How are you hearing it? We’re on the 18th floor.”

“What?”

It was your turn to stiffen. You didn’t quite understand the curiosity in Matt’s tone. You weren’t entirely sure you believed what he might be implying. You cocked your head to the side, mimicking the thing you’d seen Matt do a million times when he was trying to follow a specific noise, and focused your attention on Matt.

He was at least a foot away from you now, pacing across the floor. You couldn’t figure out how you knew he was pacing. You focused on the way his shoes tapped on the linoleum floor, the way his hands fiddled with his cane, tightening and untightening in a rhythmic dance, the way his heart was pounding in his chest, even though there was no possible way you could actually be hearing his heartbeat from this far away.

“Matty…” You murmured, lifting your hand from its place in your lap and reaching towards him.

“Yes, dove?” He asked, clearing his throat. He was closer to you now, and for the first time since your vision had gone, you weren’t surprised when his hand grasped yours. It was eerie, knowing where he was even though you couldn’t physically see him in front of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked, tightening your grip on his hand. He reached his other hand towards you, brushing his knuckles across your cheekbone in a soothing motion.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’re going to figure it out, okay?” You nodded, leaning your head into his hand. “Okay, Matty.”

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Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock

Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.

Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)

God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘

Words: 7,691

AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)

Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤

As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament. 

It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes. 

You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt. 

Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together. 

Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there. 

Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name. 

Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin. 

Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip. 

"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear. 

"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement. 

Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did. 

You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know. 

But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.  

Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there. 

But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.

For now.

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════ 

"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you. 

At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath. 

You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.

You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil. 

"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe." 

"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back." 

You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?" 

Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?" 

That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body. 

Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.

Nothing except Matt's duty to the city. 

Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.

But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.

You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to." 

"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew." 

The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?" 

You whimpered again. 

"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?" 

"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—" 

"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?" 

Fuck, not the praise. 

Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please." 

His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.

By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night. 

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════ 

You tried. 

Oh God, you truly tried. 

You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen. 

You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt. 

You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately. 

Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down. 

At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down. 

And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that? 

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In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you. 

You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence. 

But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts. 

Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air. 

"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear. 

You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently. 

He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there. 

"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar. 

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back. 

"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke. 

"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time. 

Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did. 

Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?" 

You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk. 

His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.

Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."

When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.

"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"

"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.

"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.

"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"

"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.

"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."

A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.

"I don't know," you breathed.

Your heart skipped. Lie.

Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."

"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"

"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."

"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"

"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"

He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.

"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"

Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.

"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.

"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.

"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.

You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"

"Yes."

"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."

"I didn't—"

"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."

"Y-you want me to pray."

"Yes."

"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."

A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"

"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.

Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"

For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."

What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.

"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.

You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"

You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.

Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.

"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"

He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.

But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."

Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.

"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."

"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"

Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"

You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."

"Good. Then continue."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?

"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"

Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.

"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.

Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.

"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."

A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.

You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."

And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.

That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.

Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.

His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.

But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."

Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."

"I—I don't—"

Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"

This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.

"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."

Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?

"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"

God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.

You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.

This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."

You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.

"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.

"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.

"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."

In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.

"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.

Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.

"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?

Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.

Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.

You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"

And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.

The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.

Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.

In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.

You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.

"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."

He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.

"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."

Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.

Did he just put you on the fucking altar?

You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."

Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."

"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."

He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"

You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."

His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.

Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.

But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.

Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.

"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."

You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.

Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.

Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.

"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."

That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.

You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.

Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"

You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."

"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"

"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."

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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷‍♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)

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My Matt Murdock Masterlist

the tension??! I actually have to catch my breath right now-

Yours with a Kiss

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word count: 5,800

Summary: Things with Matt are still pretty new, but that doesn't stop the rush you feel everytime he's near, and he absolutely takes advantage.

Trigger warning: just more Matt Murdock fluff, guys.

Written for this request

Masterlist

This thing with him is still…new.

Like, extremely new. 

Barely-acknowledged-feelings-but-maybe-this-could-be-something new.

There have been a few instances of hand holding, a few soft kisses pressed to your mouth, a few strokes of calloused fingers down your cheek. Matt knows you’re a little nervous, a little shy. Given the fact that there’s a tiny bit of an age gap and that he’s technically your boss, Matt is almost as hesitant as you are to push things full steam ahead, even though feelings have been admitted and found reciprocal.

But you notice the way he almost seems to track your movement when you’re near. You notice the way his head tilts in your direction even if you’re not the one who is speaking. You notice the way his body is usually angled towards yours if you’re in the room, as if he’s putting himself completely on display for you to do with what you wish.

Matt Murdock is the most intense man you’ve ever met, despite his easy and charming smile, and the way he always seems so in tune with you is intimidating, nerve-wracking, and thrilling.

He is exceedingly careful with you, as if you’re the most precious thing to him, as if he’s nervous he’ll scare you off. You appreciate the tenderness in which he treats you, a nice change from the other men you’ve dated who always ask for more than you’re willing to give, and quicker than you’re willing to give it. Matt makes you feel like he’s got all the time in the world to get to know you, like he’s got all the time in the world to ease into this thing with you, and the slow burn is more intimate than anything else you’ve ever felt before. 

He is willing to take his time, to make sure things are done right, and it means more than you’ll ever know how to articulate. This man has managed work his way under your skin, sliding in so effortlessly as if he’s always been there.

It's only been a few months since Nelson, Murdock & Page brought you on as a junior investigator, and you report mostly up to Karen. She is ruthless in her search for the truth, and she runs you all over Hell's Kitchen, eager to bring you into the journey of whatever story she's chasing next.

It's Karen that has you at the office early Monday morning, a hundred things ready for you to do to start off the week. A job like yours doesn't typically rest during the weekend, new parts of the story popping up at anytime, regardless of day or time, but she does her best to give you some sort of a work-life balance.

The door is unlocked when you arrive, so you step inside, closing it quietly behind you, unwilling to disturb the silence. You walk over to your desk and set your things down, about to turn around and walk towards the small break room when your phone beeps, signifying that you’ve received an email.

You take your phone out of your purse, reading through the email that Karen has just forwarded your way. She’s asked you to meet her at The Bulletin in an hour or so, hoping that the two of you can hunt down a few things with Ellison’s help. You had been expecting a full day at the office, but it’s not a big deal, and this case Karen has been following might just be a large one, depending on what you dig up. 

“Good morning.”

The voice startles you, despite knowing the fact that someone was bound to be in the office with you seeing as how the door was unlocked. You glance up from where you had been typing out a response to Karen’s email, unsurprised to see that it's Matt standing there, two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Hey,” you respond with a shy smile, setting your phone down on the desk once you hit send. He’s got his typical work suit on, though he’s not wearing the suit jacket, and the sleeves are already pushed up to his elbows. The man looks so effortlessly attractive, it’s ridiculous. 

“Coffee?” He takes a few steps forward, extending his arm out for you, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “I heard someone come in, so I figured I’d pour another cup.”

“Thank you,” you say before you take a small sip, the liquid burning your tongue slightly as you swallow. The coffee is sweeter than you had been expecting it, and you tilt your head curiously. You’re the only one in the office who doesn’t take it black. “How did you know to put cream in it? How did you know it was me who came in?”

Matt takes a sip of his own coffee, smiling as he lowers the mug back down. “Wishful thinking,” he says, and your heart briefly stutters. His smile widens, as if he knows the effect he has on you, and the look on his face doesn’t make things easier on you this morning. “That, and I heard your phone go off. You’re the only one I know who actually has a message tone rather than leaving it on vibrate. Myself excluded, of course.”

You let out a quiet laugh, leaning against your desk. You glance at the fading bruise on his jawline curiously as your eyes flitt over his face. “Old habit, I guess. I tend to get super wrapped up in things and get lost inside my head. The vibration doesn’t always get through to me, so the sound helps.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he says, stepping closer still, so that he’s only within a few feet now. He drums his fingers lightly on his mug, and your eyes drift down to the hand that had so easily held yours last week when he walked you home from work. “I can’t count how many times I’ve had to call your name more than three times to get you to look up.”

Your cheeks flush briefly at the teasing. “Well, consider yourself lucky that your employee is so invested in their work that they are almost immune to distractions.”

“Almost immune?” He asks with a smirk. “What sorts of things manage to get through the fog?”

Your ass. 

“That’s none of your business, Mr. Murdock,” you tell him, raising your chin in an act of fake defiance, thought you're completely unwilling to share that specific detail with him. The look is lost on him, you know, but it doesn't stop your body from following through with the motion. “It’s classified.”

His smile is absolutely wicked, and it sends a brief flash of hunger down through your skin, but you push it brutally away. “I’m sure I’ll get it out of you at some point.”

"You're welcome to try."

"I think you'll find I'm rather gifted at pulling all sorts of information out of people," he says matter of factly, expression still teasing, though it has some sort of sharp and self-deprecating edge to it. It's almost feels as if he's laughing at some sort of joke only he's privy to at the moment. "Consider yourself warned."

You’re not quite sure how to reply, mouth opening and closing awkwardly with nothing witty or charming to say, so when your phone beeps with a text message, you clear your throat and readily welcome the distraction.

It seems to knock Matt back into more of a professional mode, because his flirtatious smile mellows back into something softer. “Karen blowing up your phone again?”

You let out a sigh, one that is honestly more amused than anything. Karen was certainly up and at 'em this morning, which is absolutely unsurprising. Her sheer tenacity often demands a lot from you mentally, but you can't think of any other woman you'd rather be working for in this business. “Yeah,” you answer, typing out another quick reply. “I had five emails from her by 5am this morning. Does she ever sleep, do you know?”

Matt snorts into his coffee. “I think our entire office gets a total amount of ten hours of sleep a night collectively.”

The firm works long hours, full of early mornings that gradually fade into late evenings, and while your own work leads you on a chase over the island of Manhattan, you've never felt more at home than in this specific office suite in Hell's Kitchen. 

You tilt your head in thought. “Foggy strikes me as the type of person who has a semi-normal sleep schedule.”

Matt shakes his head, the expression on his face amused and unsympathetic for his friend. “Not with an infant at home.”

You throw your head back in an abrupt laugh, quickly retracting your statement and readily agreeing with him. “True enough. I think she’s teething, too. Can’t imagine that’s fun at the moment.”

“Hence the upgrade in the coffee machine.”

“Do I want to know what kind of machine you were using before you switched over?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him. Your eyes flicker over to the doorway to the break room before landing back on the mug that’s in your hands. You take another large sip and place it down on your desk.

“Probably not.”

“Well then my caffeine addiction salutes you,” you say, absentmindedly picking up the folder of documents Karen had requested you bring to your meeting with Ellison. You'd left it on your desk Friday afternoon. “I’m going to need all the coffee available the next few days.”

“Busy week ahead?” He asks casually, leaning into the wall behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding on to his coffee cup. You force yourself to look away from the way his obviously well-toned body stretches in front of you, the long line of his form both sleek and somehow dangerous, which you find to be a devastating combination. Matt’s eyebrows raise slightly, as if he knows somehow where your thoughts have gone, so you snap your eyes towards the folder in your hand.

"Yeah, Karen has something she’s hunted down and needs my help on. She mentioned needing to get a few quotes from an outside source later this week, in addition to meeting up with Jessica for the information she’s gathered," you say, picking up another file and briefly glancing through a few papers. The images in the file, paired with the notes written in Karen’s flawless handwriting, are curious to you, and you tilt a specific page to the side to get a better look.

“I don’t envy you having to work with Jessica for the next few days,” Matt tells you with a laugh, and despite your focus being elsewhere, you hear the way his voice has changed lightly into something that sounds oddly fond of the woman who has been mentioned. The tone is interesting to you, having witnessed more than one of their spats.

“Nah,” you say with a shrug, still mildly distracted by the file in your hands. “As long as you promise a steady supply of liquor, she isn’t too bad. She managed to pull a few things up for us, which might cut down our work by a decent amount, and Karen said she–FUCK!” 

A thin slice of red trickles down your finger, accompanied by a sharp and sudden sting. 

Matt looks immediately alarmed, body pushing off of the wall he had been leaning against and stepping the rest of the way towards you. "What happened?"

"Paper cut," you hiss out, throwing the files onto your desk as you examine your pointer finger, careful not to get blood on them. "Nothing major, but these fuckers always hurt like hell, don't they?"

He seems to relax, though his face still shows more concern than warranted for the situation. He puts his coffee cup on your desk, hand immediately reaching out for yours. "Cold water should help, it might reduce the sting."

"I think it's fine," you reply in disagreement, reaching for a tissue to wipe off the blood. It's stopped sooner than it started, but it still leaves a dull ache behind. 

Damn it. That fucker will be a nuisance all day.

He's not deterred, and the reaction to your tiny amount of pain is almost amusing in how sweet it is. His palm remains outstretched and facing upwards, waiting on you to place your hand in his, and you easily give in as you take in the expectant look on his face. He's not backing down on this one, you're aware. 

He grabs your hand by the wrist and pulls you gently behind him into the small break room that really only houses an old fridge, a sink, and the coffee station. He’s not using his cane, which is unsurprising, given the way he has the office’s floorplan mapped out expertly by now, so you allow him to lead for once.

You humor him as he turns on the faucet and checks the temperature before he slides your hand under the water. “This isn’t necessary,” you say with a laugh. “It’s just a tiny cut.”

"Nothing wrong with rinsing it with soap and water," he says, sending you a quick grin, dimple flashing in his cheek. You're an absolute sucker for that smile. "Can never be too careful."

You can't tell if his being serious, or if he's just messing with you. You glance down at the finger that's currently under the water with amusement, internally laughing when you notice he's already put soap on the finger. "I could have cleaned it myself."

There's an entirely too innocent shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

“Maybe you don’t need an excuse to hold my hand,” you counter, and though you say it in amusement, you can’t help the way your own words cause your face to flush. 

The look on his face looks oddly satisfied. “Is that so?”

“It’s definitely so.”

“Good to know,” is all he says as he shuts off the water. He hands you a paper towel to dry off your finger and you watch as he opens the cabinet to his left, reaching in and grabbing the box of bandaids. He runs a light finger over it, no doubt confirming he’s pulled out the right box by reading the label that’s been printed in braille for him, before he opens it and takes out a bandaid.

“This is some A+ doctor treatment you’re giving me for such a tiny cut,” you say, taking the bandaid from him and unwrapping it. He takes the trash from you and puts it in the bin by the door. “Do all of your other coworkers get the same treatment?”

“Foggy and Karen can take care of themselves,” he tells you, walking the few feet back over to you. 

You let out a mock gasp, eyes widening in fake indignation. “Are you implying I can’t take care of myself?”

He laughs, shaking his head, red glasses glinting in the bright lights overhead. “I’m implying that maybe I like the idea of being the one to take care of you.”

The phrase, so innocently and matter-of-factly said, causes you to falter briefly as you finish wrapping the bandage around your finger. “Well,” you begin slowly, eyeing the way he is standing closer than he had been just a minute prior, “part of me wants to object again and tell you I am more than capable of taking care of myself. But the other part of me is okay with you having that…specific feeling towards me.”

A shit-eating grin settles across his face at the comment. “So you’re telling me that you’re okay with me holding your hand whenever I want to, and you’re okay with me wanting to make sure you’re safe and happy?"

You roll your eyes fondly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes.”

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says, running his hand down your arm. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. “I’m bound to get some ideas with you telling me these things.”

“Well if those ideas have anything to do with taking me to dinner sometime, then I’d say go for it.”

Matt’s mouth parts in another laugh, throwing his head lightly back, and you find yourself grinning widely along with him. “That can certainly be arranged. Any specific requests?”

“Requests? In terms of…?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

You hmmm quietly, tapping your finger against your chin as if in deep thought. You take a step back from him, running your eyes along the length of his body. “You have to greet me with a kiss.”

He smirks, leaning against the counter. “I was already planning on it.”

You find yourself blushing, but continue. “And I want you to take me somewhere you enjoy. Not somewhere that you think might impress me, or somewhere you think I’m expecting for a first date. Somewhere that means something to you that you want to share with me.”

He reaches out and grabs one of your hands in his, running a thumb over the inside of your wrist that has no business being as intimate as it is. “I can do that. Anything else?”

The words are out before you can take them back, the idea landing in your head in one second, leaving your mouth the next. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

This request causes his eyebrows to rise on his forehead, and the thumb he has on your skin pauses. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you say, clearing your throat and trying to recover from the way you had just blurted out the sentence, “that I want to know what’s going on inside your head.”

He looks vaguely amused, and his ministrations on your wrist continues. “You may not like what’s in there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tell him simply with a shrug, deciding it's too late to go back now. “Doesn’t have to be anything deep, just…share how you’re feeling, I guess? I can always tell there’s more you want to say than what you actually say, so maybe…let some of that filter go.”

“And is this only for dinner?” He questions, head tilting to the side as if in contemplation. “Or starting now?”

Despite the fact that it had been your request to know what was going on in his head, you suddenly feel shy, and you find yourself fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist, shifting your weight from side to side. “Now, maybe? What are you thinking about right now?” 

There’s a short bout of silence, as he tilts his head at you, and you take in the way his breathing has stuttered slightly, a small flush on his own cheeks. 

“I’m thinking about how I like having you this close to me,” he eventually answers, and you note the way his tone has softened slightly, no longer as flirtatious but every bit as happy. 

Your breath catches briefly, but you recover with a quick shake of your head. 

“You…could come closer,” you tell him after a moment. You take another deep breath to steady yourself, observing the way the temperature in the room seems to have increased by a few degrees. Everything suddenly feels so hot. “If you want.”

His wide smile returns, and it almost sends a shock to the system. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, angling your body so that it’s a little more aligned with his. “If that’s what you want.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, but instead takes it as an opportunity to push you lightly towards the wall, encouraging you to take small steps back until your back is pressed against it. He’s close, but not in a way that feels suffocating. The heat radiating off of him burns, and yet you can’t help but feel like you want to burn right there along with him.

“I’ve thought about you like this,” he admits with a sigh, one arm rising and bending so that he’s leaning over you, elbow and forearm resting against the wall above your head. “I’ve thought about this a lot, actually.”

“About me at your mercy?” You tease, watching in fascination as the beautiful flush rises in his cheeks. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the teasing words, or if he feels just as affected as you at the close proximity of your bodies. You hope it's both, longing to know it's not just you that has trouble thinking when he's near.

“No,” he says, before he laughs abruptly. “Well, yes, I have thought about that. But that’s not what I meant. I’ve thought about you pressed against me like this. I’ve thought about you maybe letting me kiss you like this.”

You swallow, hand suddenly reaching out to grasp his tie as if to settle yourself, ignoring the way your finger lets out a quiet, dull throb as it comes into contact with the fabric through the bandaid. “And how–how would you–”

“How would I kiss you?”

You're rooted to the spot, mouth suddenly too dry to really say anything, so you just nod shakily. You watch with rapt attention as he removes his red glasses, wide eyes trailing over the face that is now fully exposed to you. You’ve seen him without his glasses a few times now, but never this close, and the sight is one you know you’ll never get tired of seeing. 

This was not how you had imagined your Monday morning going, but you’ll be damned if you don't take advantage of it.

“Hmm,” he voices underneath his breath, appearing thoughtful, transferring his glasses to the hand that’s resting on the wall above you. “I think…I think I’d start with this.” His fingers reach up and trail lightly over your cheekbone before he hooks a piece of hair over your ear. You shiver, and the slight movement causes his lips to twitch into a small smile. 

“I think I’d want to touch every inch of skin that you’d let me,” he whispers, the sound floating down to your ears in a caress as soft as fingers. “And I’d start with this beautiful face of yours.”

“How can you possibly know I’m–”

“I don't need to see you to know that, sweetheart,” Matt interrupts you gently, and the term of endearment settles warmly across your skin. “Where was I?” The question is asked rhetorically, so you don’t say anything, simply waiting with bated breath as the pads of his fingers continue to stroke over your cheek. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you can’t help but sigh at the touch.

His hand moves softly down from your face until it’s cupping your jaw, tilting your head up towards his, the angle perfect for him to lean down and press his lips to yours, but he keeps his mouth hovering over yours for a second. You try to nudge forward, wanting his lips on yours more than anything, but he pulls back enough so that you’d have to rise on to your tip toes to put your mouth on his. He chuckles quietly.

“I think I get the point, Matt,” you say breathlessly, and if it were anyone else, you might be ashamed of how quickly you’ve lost control of yourself.

Another quiet laugh escapes him. “Greedy, are we?” He leans down again and rubs his nose over the tip of yours, and you can’t help the way your other hand reaches up and slides into his hair at the back of his neck. 

“So are you.”

He takes a step forward so that now he’s completely pressed against you, no space left between your bodies. He is firm where you are soft, and the difference is intoxicating. “Yes, I am.”

And with that, his mouth is finally on yours. 

The pressure is light, almost light enough that you’d think he wasn’t actually kissing you if it weren’t for the heat that he was pressing on your lips. He doesn’t move for a steady moment, simply allowing you both to enjoy the way it feels to be so close and leaning into each other. The hand resting on your jaw slides down so that it’s gently cradling your throat. If it were anyone else, you’d probably jerk away, nervous to have someone holding such a delicate part of you in their grasp.

But Matt isn’t anyone else, he is the man you’re pretty sure you’re in love with, and you trust him with every square inch of your body he wishes to touch. 

The pressure on your lips increases, and you feel his mouth move against yours, gently coaxing it open. You follow his lead, allowing him to pull a lip slowly between his teeth, biting down lightly. Gasping, your grip on his tie tightens, and he takes advantage of the way your mouth has opened to let the sound out. He slides his tongue against yours for a brief moment, giving you a slight taste of the pure havoc he could wreak upon other parts of your body should you let him, before he pulls away.

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing just as heavily as you, much to your satisfaction. He sounds just as wrecked as you are at the moment. 

“Is this still okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, the hand that had been cradling your throat coming back up to cup your cheek, the fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You nod, unable to form words with him so close to you, and his mouth remains just a few inches away from yours. Your heart is pounding in your throat, and you haven’t quite managed yet to catch your breath.

With a small smile, one that seems far too knowing, he leans back in, no doubt feeling the way your skin is burning beneath his touch.

The door to the office suddenly opens, but when your head pulls away and instinctively turns to look and greet whoever is walking through the door, Matt’s finger and thumb on your chin quickly draws you back so that you’re still facing him. 

“It’s probably just Foggy,” he whispers, face still close enough to yours to feel his breath lightly caress your skin. Sure enough, there’s a loud exaggerated sigh before loud footsteps head down the small hallway, the door to Foggy’s office down the hall closing quietly without a word.

“How did you–”

His thumb moves from your cheek to brush lightly over your bottom lip, and you feel your cheeks flush again. “He called and said he would be here around 8am to work on the Erickson case. We have a conference call in a few minutes.”

“Ah,” you say, eyes flitting across his handsome face, admiring the way the morning sunlight makes his brown eyes look almost green. “That makes sense.”  

There’s a look on Matt’s face that somehow manages to be a mixture of amused and heated. His fingers trail down your neck an down to your chest, running over your collar bone, before they journey back upwards, grasping your jaw again. You watch him the whole time, your body thrumming with an energy you don’t think you’ve ever felt before.

“How’s that for telling you what I’m thinking?” He asks, leaning forward again to brush his lips down your cheek. “Is this what you wanted?”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you to turn it into a moment where you kiss me breathless in the office, but I’m not going to complain.”

“And if I want to do it again?” He tilts your head to the side and does the same to your other cheek. “Would you let me?”

You gulp, hand tightening around the tie that’s still in your grasp. “I think I’d let you do whatever you wanted at this point.”

His expression darkens, but certainly not in a way that suggests anger. Instead, Matt almost looks like he’s two seconds away from hiking up your skirt, lifting you off your feet, and pinning you to the wall while he has his way with you.

Which…you'd totally be okay with.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, and the phrase sends another shock of blistering heat straight down your body. 

The words, paired with the look on his face, are unlike anything you’ve experienced with him before, and it seems to open up a whole new part of Matthew Murdock that you’re suddenly very eager and willing to explore.

You’ve been introduced to sweet Matthew. Wickedly smart Matthew. Gentle Matthew. But dark and hungry Matthew is a whole new ball game. You’ve loved taking your time with him, loved the way he seems to handle you with such affection and care and soft consideration, but you know that when you both finally reach the point of no return, you’ll be completely blown away and taken apart by the man in front of you.

His lips are on yours again, still a gentle press despite the sharp look of longing on his face, and you know you’ll never tire of the way they feel when they’re pressed against you.

“Matt,” Foggy’s voice rings out through the office, almost effectively ruining the moment, which is probably a good thing with the way you currently want to tear off Matt’s clothes just to feel his skin pressed to yours. You turn your head and see that the other man has walked into the break room's  line of sight, standing there with his hands on his hips as he takes in Matt pressing you into the wall. He flashes you a brief smile before rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Take your lips off of your girl and bring your shit into my office. We should run through a few things before we hop on that call.”

The comment causes your cheeks to flood, and you find yourself liking the sound of them, more and more with each passing millisecond.

Matt’s girl.

You don't really care about the rest of his sentence, to be honest, too hung up on those two specific words.

“Be right there, Fog.”

Foggy groans, and you can’t help but giggle despite the fact that he’s interrupted a very nice moment with Matt. “I was super nice and didn’t say anything when I walked in. Time to repay that kindness and do you fucking job.”

Matt laughs, still unaware of the words that are echoing in your head. Surely he must be able to feel the way your heart is pounding with him still so close to you. “One minute. I’ll be there in one minute.”

You see Foggy throw up his hands in exasperation before he turns and walks back into his office. Once the door is shut, your head turns and your eyes drift back up to Matt. The hunger has left his face, and has been replaced by the look of adoration he so often has when he’s focused on you. Sweet and gentle Matt is back, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he says, putting his glasses back on and taking a small step back, arm no longer resting against the wall. He leans down and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be done in an hour or so. Will you still be here?”

You shake your head with a light, regretful sigh. “No, Karen needs me down at The Bulletin to look through some things with Ellison this morning. But we’re all doing happy hour later, right?”

He nods with a smile of his own, the laugh lines you love so much becoming clearer on his face. “I’ll see you later, then.” He squeezes your hand gently, turning to walk down towards his partner’s office.

You’re not quite sure what drives you to reach back out to him, but you do it anyway, using his tie to yank him into you. All you know is that you’re not quite ready for him to leave you, needing just a few more moments of his full attention and lips on yours. Matt turns with a light gasp, mouth parted in shock.

“What–”

Before he can finish his question, you pull his head down towards yours, standing up on your tip toes to meet him halfway. His shock only lasts for a second before he’s returning the kiss with another flare of sharp heat, his arms wrapping themselves around you seemingly without thought. Whereas the previous kisses had been slow and sweet and soothing, this one is full of fire.

You break away almost as quickly as you had pulled him in, shifting your weight back down fully onto your feet, hand still wrapped around his tie. He lets out a startled laugh.

“What was that?”

“Your girl," is all you say. It’s not a question, because you’re not asking if you are, in fact, his girl; you’re telling him you are.

Matt doesn’t need an explanation for what you’re referring to, his mouth splitting into a wide smile that’s so blinding it almost hurts. He doesn’t hesitate when he opens his mouth in reply.

“My girl,” he confirms, and your heart can’t help but skip a beat. “I think I could be okay with that.”

You let out a gasp of mock indignation. “You think?” 

“I’m still a bit undecided,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders that tries to appear nonchalant but fails. “It really just depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you kiss me like that again,” Matt tells you with a smirk that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

With a fond roll of your eyes, you pull him back into you again, hand still wrapped around his tie, the other on the back of his head. His lips are almost on yours when Foggy’s frustrated growl reverberates through the office.

“Matt! I’m about to fire you if you don’t get your ass in here right. this. second!”

"We are equal partners in this Foggy," Matt responds, voice carrying easily, his attention still never wavering from your. "You can't fire me."

"I slept for all of thirty minutes last night," the other man snaps, and you can't help but giggle at the tired frustration in his voice. "You do not want to mess with me right now."

The man still leaning against you hesitates for a brief moment before he continues his descent towards you anyway, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that could very easily lead to more if either one of you had the time, before laughing and pulling away. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off.

"MATT!"

With one last grin and peck on your lips, Matt turns around and walks away. “Coming!”

You're left staring after him, hand reaching up to brush the ghost of his kiss that he left behind. With an utterly lovesick sigh that you can't hold back, you walk back towards your desk, sweeping up your purse and files into your arms, ready to make your way towards where you're meeting up with Karen. 

You glance briefly at Foggy's office door, already missing the dark haired man inside, knowing that you'd willingly suffer a lifelong series of sharp and stinging paper cuts if it meant you'd always end up with his lips on yours. 

Are You Okay? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to hear is one question and one person to make your shitty day not so shitty anymore.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, fear of failure, not proofread (I put Grammarly over that bitch, but that's it), no y/n

A/n: I wrote this in an hour because I'm stressed as fuck and my state of mind is so complicated right now, I didn't know how else to explain it. Also, why is statistics such a bitch to study? And what do I care about fucking behaviorism? I'm already done with Freud and Piaget and those get on my last nerve already, I don't need Bandura to add to my emotional despair, but oh well, here we are. This is completely self-indulgent and I channeled what's happening in my school life into this one, so if it doesn't fit with the American school system, I'm sorry, but I didn't want to research.

Word Count: 2.7k

You’ve been locked in your room for the majority of the past week, the study notes of the past semester strewn around you, and you swore at the beginning of the week that you would revise every last note at least once. In the end, you panicked more than you studied, but you managed to summarize about half of your notes, which should fill you with glee, but as you stare down at your stack of cards, you’re filled with dread and the purest form of self-hatred. What did you do the entire week that you only got so far? You left your room once, but it was a short walk around the block to air your head, with still many hours of the day left to spare. You swore you would get everything you needed to be done, and you swore to yourself that the next five weeks of exam season were going to be your bitch, but looking at the calendar now you realize, those five weeks still lay ahead of you and you are not even nearly done with everything you swore you would get done. 

Your head screams, “Failure!” And you’re starting to think that maybe your head is right. Maybe you are lazy and that is why your grades have been dropping or your teachers are disappointed or you just can’t seem to get the information into your thick skull even though someone once told you, “You can do it!” You figure that was a lie too. There is no way you can manage to ace all your upcoming tests and the final exams, and part of you is starting to fear you might not be able to graduate. There is too much in your head, too much stress, and too much performance anxiety, but as you look around yourself you don’t realize why you’re so stressed - in your head, it appears as if you spent the entire week playing video games and did the bare minimum, and not even that did you manage. You really don’t understand how you can be stressed and not even halfway done with all of your schoolwork. You’re stressed about being stressed, and you’re stressed about studying so you try to study, but your head blacks out and the day suddenly doesn’t have enough hours for you to think about yourself and the work you have to do, so you just sit back and stare at an empty page in the hopes the words will come out and you can just memorize all of the fucking information on your study notes. You don’t want to be the best, you’ve given up on that, but you want to pass, you need to pass because damn, you want to get out, you want to move on and get out and get on with life, but the load keeps getting bigger and your grades keep swindling. How can the load get bigger when you haven’t left your room in a week, and how did you not manage to finish revising all of your notes even though you definitely had the time and the means? You don’t understand and at this point, you have resorted to watching trash tv to keep your mind from reeling, but even that seems not enough anymore. You can’t eat without upsetting your stomach and the thought of going back to class the next day, having to study more and revise more, and the end moves closer and closer, but never close enough, and the entire pile of documents, anxiety, and stress starts to bury you alive. You can’t remember a second you allowed yourself to properly breathe, to stop your thoughts from racing and focusing on something else. You can’t remember a time you allowed yourself a step away from studying or procrastinating and freeing your head so you can get back to work with newfound energy. All of that seems so… impossible now. You want to pass, but your head keeps telling you that you won’t. You won’t pass. You will fail and everyone will hate you because you will be the only one. You’re scared, you’re terrified even and you can’t do this anymore. You want out of your body, out of your mind, and out of this life just for a second, just until the worst is over and everything has resolved itself. 

You know that’s not possible. 

Your friends are emotionally unavailable, busy with themselves, mostly, and your family is as annoying as ever. No one’s asked about you, most of them have dodged your messages or answered with a clear, “Sorry, we can’t.” It feels as if no one can help you out of this hole you’ve dug for yourself, so you decide to sit in it and wait for the dirt to swallow you. 

Your skin tingles, you’re tired and there is this overwhelming urge to cry. You miss being touched, you miss being taken care of, but there is no time and you just can’t ask. The one person you can ask is across campus and has no idea what’s going on because you told him you’d need the week to study, so he told you he’d leave you alone until then. It’s Sunday now. He hasn’t called or texted and you’re starting to wonder if he’s sick of you as you are of yourself. 

Before the thoughts can turn any darker, and they have gotten significantly darker, there is a knock on your door. You probably smell disgusting, your room is a mess and you should have opened a window, but it’s significantly colder outside today, there is snow and you just hate the way everything but your blanket and the new episodes of America’s Next Top Model make you feel. You’ve driven yourself so far into loneliness, you’re starting to believe that this is actually just who you’re supposed to be. 

You get off the makeshift seating area among your study notes off the floor and walk to the door. You don’t bother checking who’s outside. If it is a murderer, at least you can miss your exams and not feel guilty, and the general heavy pain that drags your soul down to your feet and keeps it there would finally go away. 

Seeing Matt Murdock’s face at your door doesn’t surprise you, you simply step aside and let him in. doesn’t say anything, simply taps his can forward until he can find his way into your room. His nostrils flare, but either he doesn’t smell the bucket of untouched fries and garlic sauce on the counter and how you haven’t showered in four days or he’s being respectful about it. You kind of wish he would just flat-out tell you that you smell and probably look like shit, not that he could judge, but he could probably sense with the way everything feels like a mess around him, that would make your guilt and pain so much worse but at least you could feel something else for a change. You’d be hurt, but it would be a different kind of hurt, one that could distract you from the demons gnawing at your heart. 

“You want a drink?” you ask, your voice hoarse from both the lack and the overuse of sleep as a coping mechanism. 

He stands lost in the room, or maybe he’s waiting, you’re not sure. You get a beer for him from the fridge, but instead of drinking it, he takes it and places it back down on the counter. 

You stare at him, a little confused, and maybe your pride is also a little hurt that he would turn down your nice gesture. 

“Are you okay?”

The question confuses you, at first, and you’re not quite sure how to process it. Those three words sound so foreign, the week you’ve been through suddenly feeling like years without him, and as he’s standing before you now, his question awakening something in you, unscrewing the lid and popping the cork, you realize just how much you have missed him. How you have missed this. How you have missed being acknowledged and asked about, even if it was just a simple, “Are you okay?” 

It finally settles in and the question makes you feel a lot of things at once, but none of them are simple, and none of them you can explain, but you know how they make you feel and they definitely answer his question with something he can feel in the way you tense up. 

You bite your lip. “No,” you admit silently, although it feels wrong to say it because why are you not okay? You should be. You have to be.

But Matt isn’t like that. 

“Do you need a hug?” he asks. 

Fuck him, you think. He’s read you better than you could have read yourself. 

You nod again. “Yes.”

“Okay, c’mere.”

As it turns out, a hug is exactly what you needed and half of the uneasiness you have been feeling must have been a serious case of touch starvation.

He opens his arms and allows you to take the first step, and you do. You step forward to lazily drape your arms around him, but he soon wraps you up tightly in his and squeezes you in the way he knows you need. The physical decompression, his fresh smell, the sound of his heartbeat, and his hands roaming your back open the flood gates, and seconds after you are crying heavily into his chest. You unload all of the stress and all of the anxiety, clinging to him for dear life, but he doesn’t mind. He lets you cry, sob and whimper until you’re too weak to stand and even then he only carries you over to your couch and sits down with you in his lap, still holding you like you are a fragile little thing (which you are, now that you think of it) and he refuses to even think about letting you go. 

He kisses your head. You’re still shaking, but there are no more tears to cry. “Why didn’t you call?” he asks you. 

His voice sounds so soft and it makes you whimper again, wiping your eyes on his already wet shirt. “Why didn’t you call?” you bite back. 

“Because you said you wanted to study. I didn’t want to interrupt you, sweetheart. I know how caught up you get and I wanted to give you space. If I had known-”

You can’t help it. You are safe from the world in his arms so you allow yourself to voice the one thought that has been keeping you on edge, “I’m going to fail, Matty.”

He holds your face away from his, feeling your contorted features and the stress wrinkles on your forehead. “What?” 

You only then realize he took off his glasses and you can see his brown eyes perfectly like that. That only makes you shake harder because he cares so damn much and you never have needed him more than you do now.

“I’m going to fail,” you say again, “because I’m useless and dumb and I can’t get anything right. I can’t even get anything done. I’m such a failure and I am going to fail every goddamn test and I am going to fail my finals and I’m-”

Matt shushes you again by taking you in his arms, and a new wave of tears rattles you. “You are not going to fail,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “You’re not a failure, you’re not dumb and you are not useless. You made it this far. You passed all of your previous classes. You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he says, “so you are not going to fail now.”

“But what if I am?”

“Everything can happen, but you are not going to fail. I know you and that is not what you do.”

“I barely got anything done this week. I swore I’d study, but-”

“How much do you have left?”

You sniffle and look behind you. God, your floor is a mess. “A lot,” you admit. 

“Too much for one day?”

“Probably,” you break off with another sob. He keeps your head upright though. Instead of shushing you, he gets up, kneels on the floor, and touches your study notes. He can’t read them, they’re not in Braille, but he can smell the different highlighters you have used and he can separate the topics accordingly. “It’s the stack on the right, isn’t it?” 

You rub your eyes. “Yes.”

“And that’s what?”

“Statistics, behaviorism and, um… I don’t know, cognitive development, maybe. I can’t remember. God!” Thinking about it makes you nauseous. “I can’t even remember, Matt. I am so going to fail!”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips to shush you softly. His hand motions for you to join him on the floor. With some struggle, he finds the stack you’ve been talking about. He hands it to you. 

“You’re going to take these and spread them out,” he tells you, “While I take care of those you’ve already summarized, alright?”

You stammer, “What?”

“We’re gonna start with statistics. You are going to go through your notes at your speed while you tell me about them, and I’m gonna rub your back while you do. If you need a break,” he says, “We’re gonna take a break. If you wanna stop, we stop. And if you want me to stay until you’re done with both topics, I’ll stay for the boring behaviorism stuff, too.”

Somehow his readiness to help you without even knowing what he, ever the law student, is helping you with makes you cry even harder. He understands you in a way nobody can, and he never pressures you, not even when it comes to your classes. He knows you torture yourself enough and Matt being Matt, he can’t have you being sad. 

He stays true to his promise. He sits behind you, rubbing your back as you go over your notes, summarize them and tell him about them. Statistics are the bane of your existence, but psychology relies on them, so you’re forced to relive the worst module of your life. But with him by your side, telling you every so often, “You are doing such a good job,” and, “I know you can do it, baby,” it’s a lot easier. 

At around eight, your stomach growls, but you are long done with the statistics part and have decided, with some of Matt’s encouraging words, that there is still time tomorrow to get done with behaviorism and then when you’re done with both, he told you, he’d help you memorize. He hasn’t decided how yet, but he is determined and as the sun goes down and you lay in his arms, freshly showered and shaven on your bed, you can’t help but stare at his beautiful face. You would have lost your mind without him, you don’t doubt that, and he somehow always knows when to come and what to do. He knows when you feel down and when you need space. He knows you better than you know yourself and that is something no one but Matt Murdock has ever accomplished. 

Without him, you are pretty sure you would maybe not have failed your classes but you would have failed at life. Your mind would have failed you and you would have drowned. But with him, you’re a little more alive. 

“I love you,” you tell him sometime after he forced you to eat proper dinner, and he gently smiles against your hair. 

“I love you,” he says. “And you are going to do great, I just know it.”

“You have so much faith in me.”

“Well, one of us has to. Besides,” he flips you over so that he can hover over you, his brown hair falling from his face into yours and you giggle at his antics, “I am a good catholic boy. If I didn’t have faith in the divine, where would I be?”

His words leave you gasping, but nothing can match up to the force and passion he kisses you with. Psychology and messy room long forgotten, you melt into his touch and let his hands and lips speak a language only the two of you understand, and they always manage to pull you out of any hole with a symphony that has become your favorite music.

“Well, one of us has to. Besides,” he flips you over so that he can hover over you, his brown hair falling from his face into yours and you giggle at his antics, “I am a good catholic boy. If I didn’t have faith in the divine, where would I be?”

His words leave you gasping, but nothing can match up to the force and passion he kisses you with. Psychology and messy room long forgotten, you melt into his touch and let his hands and lips speak a language only the two of you understand, and they always manage to pull you out of any hole with a symphony that has become your favorite music.

That last line??! It’s everything

Hiii

I LOVE your work, and I was wonderful if you could write something with hurt/comfort with Matt Murdock?

Like you were coming home late and someone was following you home, and Matt hears you heart beat and comes to find you juste before the creepy person makes a move on you? And the reader is like “I’m fine, I’m okay” even tho she crying very hard and can’t breathe and Matt is like “no you’re not, but it’s okay I’ll take care of you” and then he takes care of reader and it’s fluff and comfort?

Thank youuuuu

Savior (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: Hiiii! Thank you for reading! It's a short ficlet, but I ended up really liking how it turned out! Also, Charlie Cox is so, so PRETTY. A special thank you to my beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish for being so great! <3 (Word Count: 1.0k)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

You didn’t fully comprehend the predicament you were in until it changed from sketchy to dangerous. Hell’s Kitchen was especially quiet that night, though the argument could be made that it never fully went to sleep. Bodegas, laundromats, and diners stayed open late into the night, and it was the light spilling from their fogged windows that lit your route home.  

You knew Matt wouldn’t be happy with your decision to walk home alone. He’d warned you time and time again to wait for him, or get a taxi if he wasn’t around, but taxis were expensive, and he hadn’t answered your call earlier. Now, you cursed yourself for not waiting. 

The man behind you had been following you for thirteen blocks – you'd counted in nervous breaths – and he was gaining on you. You walked at an increasingly rapid pace, heart thundering as you blindly dug through your bag for the pepper spray Foggy had gifted you when you’d moved to the city. It was big and a stark blue, with the words “I Heart NY” stamped around it, but your hands were shaking so badly that even if you could find it in the black hole that was your tote bag, you weren’t sure you’d be able to use it.

You turned the corner, nervously glancing at the stranger out of the corner of your eye, and almost yelped at the proximity he had gained. He was within ten feet of you, and you didn’t give yourself a chance to hesitate before you took off running. 

“Hey!” He called. 

You ignored him, pushing your legs to move faster. You could see the entrance to your building, a tiny speck in the distance, and you prayed Matt was close enough to hear your racing heart. The man’s feet pounded on the concrete behind you, and you let out a wild shriek that you hoped would alert someone nearby. If it was heard by anyone, they didn’t make it known. You were alone, and the man was so close to you now that you knew you’d be grabbed by him before you could make it to the safety of your building.  

Arms wrapped around your middle, hauling you into an alley. You began shrieking at the top of your lungs, if only to make it harder for your attacker to get away with whatever he planned to do. 

“Leave me alone! Stop!” You fought with all your might, swinging and kicking wildly in front of you in a last-ditch effort to get away. “Get off me, you fucking creep!”  

Hands cradled your face. 

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart.” Matt’s smooth voice coaxed your eyes open. You hadn’t even realized they were closed. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You blinked up at him in relief. Your heart thundered in your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t in his Daredevil suit, but the way he clenched his jaw told you that the Devil was itching to come out and play.  

“There was a man,” you started, voice scratchy from the screams you’d let out, “He was following me. I-I know I should’ve waited for you to come get me, but I didn’t want to bother you and then this guy showed up and I was trying to find the pepper spray but-” You were rambling now, gulping in air and waving your arms around as you explained.  

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, softly caressing the curve of your cheekbone.  

“Yeah.” You nodded. The lie tasted ashy on your tongue.  

“You’re crying, sweetheart.”  

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered, attempting to blink the tears away. “I’m fine.” You tried again, but your voice wobbled as the words left your lips. You couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince him or yourself at that point. Matt nodded along with you, kissing your temple.  

“Let’s get you home, okay? You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again, okay? I’ve got you.” He led you to the apartment you shared with him, only letting go when you sunk into the cushions of the couch. “I’m going to make you some tea, okay?” 

“Okay.” Your voice was wispy, barely audible to anyone besides Matt, who had tuned himself to you so thoroughly that you sometimes felt like he could read your thoughts. Like right then, as the thought entered your brain, and he responded before you could even finish the thought. Some Chamomile tea would be grea- 

“Is Chamomile alright?” He called, clinking the mug against the counter. 

“Yeah, Matty. Thank you.” You breathed through your anxiety and wondered what happened to the man who’d been following you. 

- 

Later that evening, after he’d drawn you a bath and tucked you into bed, the Devil finally got what he wanted. Matt hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he’d been diligently tracking the stranger’s heartbeat since he’d intervened earlier that evening, and as soon as your heartbeat evened out, suggesting your deep slumber, Matt was jumping across rooftops towards the irregular heartbeat he’d been listening to all evening.  

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got his hands on the guy who had followed you earlier. The blood curdling scream you’d let out was indication enough of your fear, and it echoed in Matt’s ears as he got closer to his target. 

He wouldn’t kill the man. That wasn’t a line Matt was willing to cross, but the thought certainly crossed his mind. If he’d put his hands on you, touched you with his filthy awfulness, Matt might’ve been angry enough to do it, though, and that terrified him. He’d never been so close to murder before, besides maybe with Fisk, but no one fucked with you and got away with it. He wouldn’t kill the guy, but he’d hurt him. Badly.  

Matt took a deep breath and let the Devil creep out. May God have mercy on the stranger’s soul, because the Devil surely wouldn’t.

Tag List:

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The Angel of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: The office assistant for Nelson, Murdock & Page worries when her secret passion is discovered by her coworkers, but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen shows her how much she’s loved for who she is.

Pairing: Matt Murdock X Reader, Franklin ‘Foggy’ Nelson X Marci Stahl

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m excited to share this one-shot with you because it’s my first time writing for Matt Murdock! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen (Fanfiction Masterlist)

“Past due…past due…ah, a first notice!” Foggy glanced up from the stack of letters in his hands and grinned. “It’s always nice to have some variety, isn’t it?”

“Things’ll start looking up for us soon, Foggy,” (Y/N) promised, her happy mood unaffected by her friend and employer’s typical over-worrying; as the one and only office assistant of Nelson, Murdock & Page, she was allowed to indulge in her personal love of organizing and that morning, she was hard at work manually in-putting their next three weeks of appointments, consultations and court dates into their online calendar. “‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin-’”

“‘And I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’” (Y/N) looked up in surprise as Matt finished quoting the Bible verse, his brows rising in surprise over the rims of his red-tinted glasses. “Matthew 6:28. I never knew you were Catholic, Miss (Y/L/N).”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Counselor Murdock, but I’m just a simple theatre nerd. It’s a verse used in the play Lilies of the Field, based off that 1960’s film starring Sidney Poitier. I played one of the nuns back when I was a sophomore in college; the habit was pretty uncomfortable to wear and my German accent was atrocious, but it was still a fun experience.”

Weiterlesen

hey elle i was wondering if you can do a oneshot of matt and fem! reader and age takes matt shopping with her and she tries on some new clothes and matt is just being very handsy. thank you❤️

Yes omg this is so cute and also makes my heart race??

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff + intimate touching

Summary: You go shopping for a new dress, and... Matt decides to join. 

“What even is a summer solstice party?” you demanded, tearing through the bottom drawer of your dresser to no avail. “And why don’t I have any fancy summer dresses?”

“Don’t you have that nice silky one?” Matt said, leaning against the doorframe and listening to the ruckus as you emptied your entire closet onto the bedroom floor. “You know, the one that hangs low in the back?”

“It’s midnight blue. More wintry looking, you know?” You paused and gave him a look. “You just like it because the back dips low.”

“Does it matter? I don’t think anyone is going to care if you’re not wearing vibrant yellow.”

“‘Does it matter?’” you repeated. “Yes, Matthew, it matters! I have a reputation at stake! The entire office is going to be there and I promise you that every single one of my coworkers will be expecting me to fit the summer theme because they’re all absolutely insane. Remember last Christmas? They practically had a laughing fit because I apparently had the audacity to show up in a normal sweater instead of one of those dumb ugly sweaters.”

“I think I have an orange tie somewhere in the back of my closet. At least, according to Foggy, it’s a ‘Lorax-as-shit-tie’.” He lifted his fingers in air quotes. “You could sling it over your shoulder and call it a summer sash.”

“Brilliant, Matt. You really missed your calling in fashion design,” you said dryly. “Yeah. This isn’t working. I’m going to have to make a run before the mall closes. What time is it?”

Matt’s hand ran over his watch. “Almost five.”

“Perfect. I’ll head to Columbus Circle.” You spun around, looking for your keys. “What’re you going to be up to this evening? Will you still be here when I get back?”

“I’m not going out tonight.”

“You’re not?” You appraised him suspiciously. “Why? You didn’t get injured last night, did you?”

“No. I just have a scheduling conflict.”

“A scheduling conflict with your deviling.” You crossed your arms. “I don’t buy it.”

He caught your arm and pulled you in closely. “I was thinking of going shopping tonight. Columbus Circle seems like a good place to go.”

Your mouth drifted open slightly. “You want to join me?”

“Well, it’s just a coincidence that you were planning on shopping tonight, but I suppose we could go together, if that’s what you want,” he said, giving you a teasing peck on the cheek. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gone out with you.”

“It’ll be boring, I’m warning you. There’s a reason every mall has a couple couches in the center where there’s always a few stray men on their phones.”

“I want to come with you. I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I miss being out in the city with you,” he amended.

“I mean, I’d love to have you,” you said, bemused. “As long as you’re sure you want to come.”

Thirty minutes later, you had a better idea of why Matt had wanted to join you. You emerged from the changing room in a pastel orange slip dress, twirling for him as though he could see it. 

“Is this one okay?” you asked, ruffling the material for added effect. 

“How would I know?”

You gave him an indignant look. “Well, I assumed you were paying close attention to the wavelengths propagating from my twirl.”

The corners of Matt’s lips were lifted upwards in a smirk. Before you could blink, he was suddenly behind you and slipping his hands around your waist. 

“Feels good,” he said, and then he slid his hands down lower. “I approve. And as for the wavelengths, they’re... wavy.”

“Wavy? That’s all I get for a compliment?”

“Mm. I like the material. It’s soft, smooth.” He squeezed you and you gasped, glancing around surreptitiously. 

“No one’s around,” he assured you. “You should try on that other dress. The one with the lace trim.”

“It doesn’t exactly look appropriate for a work party.”

“Exactly." 

You rolled your eyes and returned to the changing room, giving him one last look before closing the door. He was seated on the bench, completely at ease and relaxed despite the atrocious pop music playing in the background and the baby wailing in its mother’s arms not fifty feet away. Surely the mall had to be painful for him. How could it not? You couldn’t imagine what it must sound and smell like; the constant cacophony of everyday life, all condensed within one building. 

Well. Doubtlessly he could use something else to listen to other than that crying child. 

“This goes way, way too low,” you said under your breath, grinning in spite of yourself at the way Matt was almost undoubtedly cocking his head to listen to you. “Definitely not appropriate for work.” You played with the strings on the dress, then smoothed out the fabric over your hips. It was almost painful not being able to see Matt’s reaction. You repeated the motion, drawing your hands out slowly as you passed them over every part of the dress, shaping it over your body. “Shit, did they mean for the dip in the back to go all the way—”

“Need some help?” Matt’s voice came from the other side of the door. Like a moth to light. 

“No,” you said, sighing dramatically. “It’s just taking me longer than expected. The dress has a thin, loopy back, and it’s all exposed, so I’m trying to tie the knot, but I keep slipping.” You actually had quite a firm handle on the knot and had already tied it. Whether Matt could tell was unknown. 

“Unlock the door and I’ll help.”

“Thank you, but I’m all set,” you said, holding back your laughter as you saw the shadow of his feet pace slightly on the other side. “I’ll just... I’ll try on the more work-appropriate dress. Besides, it must be boring for you to have to endure me coming out after each change, since you can’t actually see each dress, so I’ll spare you the trouble and just take this off now—”

His voice was a growl, guttural and low. “Let me in, sweetheart, before I kick down the door.”

There’s my devil. You popped open the lock, smiling weakly. “Ta-da.”

The door closed behind Matt as he entered, dropping the cane against the wall immediately and pushing your back into the mirror. He braced himself on either side of you, hands against the wall. You took a couple of shallow breaths; there was something about the way his jaw was tense, and the way the muscles in his lower arms were taut, that made your heart skip. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, moving his hands from the wall to gently push you down onto the seat. “Mind if I... feel your dress?”

He never fails to check in first. You smiled at him, warm love for everything about Matt Murdock palpitating in your chest. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to buy it if I wasn’t sure it felt nice, right?” you said, your voice coming out in a squeak; your composure was completely shattered by the strong and blazing aura rippling off of him. 

His hands traced the back of the dress and then up your shoulders again, feeling every bit of the fabric and where the dress clung to your body; then they moved to your breasts, lightly assessing the cowl fold of the neckline at the end as though that had been his intention all along. 

“I think you should buy it,” he decided. 

“Oh, really? And what am I supposed to wear to the work party?”

“This one.” Without turning his body he plucked the third dress from the hook behind him, feeling the shape of the dress. “It’ll fit.”

“Show-off.”

“Only for you.” He brushed his hand against your arm again. “I’ll be waiting out here.” 

Sure enough, you came out from the changing room one last time to see him sitting placidly on the bench, rolling the cane back and forth in his fingers. He was the image of innocence as he stood up and inclined his head towards you. “Ready?”

“Unfortunately for my wallet, yes.”

He kept up the charade until you were in line, with people watching. You lifted up both dresses, admiring them — both were, you had to admit, very beautiful — when Matt’s hand suddenly slipped up your shirt and grabbed at your hips. 

“Matt!” You fought back a laugh and swatted his hand away. “People are watching!”

“Good. They’ll know you’re mine.”

“And there are children around. We’re going to traumatize them if you keep that up.” 

He lifted both hands, a mocking smirk on his face. “Alright.” And then he leaned in to whisper in your ear, his hand curving around the back of your neck. Goosebumps ran up your arms. “But I have something planned for when we get home.”

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You try sparring with Matt because he wants you to learn self-defense. A minor bump to the head, as it turns out, opens up many doors.

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Warnings: Hit to the head, some physical intimacy (but no smut)

A/N: Haven't written in months because I've been working on a writing project of my own but here I am again!! I'm absolutely THRILLED to see the new photos of Born Again and I'm also dying to watch Kin season 2 (haven't been able to watch it yet unfortunately).

"Matt, I know it probably pains you to hear this, but I'm seriously going to be a waste of your time."

"You could never be a waste of my time."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but really, I don't think you understand just how bad this is going to go."

"It'll go fine. Just give it a shot." Matt was in a tee and shorts, an excited energy in the way he beckoned you forward. Training, he called it. Self-defense lessons.

It sounded more like a painful exercise to you.

"Besides," you continued. "Let's say I was walking down the street and some malicious guy approached me with a knife and was all, Give me your money or I'll kill you—"

Matt scowled. "If that ever happens, I'll kill him first."

"In that situation," you pressed on, "I guarantee that I would freeze. Any punches or flying kicks or whatever that you have tried to teach me would be sitting uselessly in the recesses of my mind. I'd be scared or disbelieving and I wouldn't even move. Really."

"It wouldn't hurt to try learning, sweetheart."

You sighed. "I'll try, for your sake, but don't think that I don't see through your motivations."

"My motivations?"

"You just want to kick my ass and then laugh as I succumb to your ninja skills."

"It might possibly be a contributing factor."

You gave him a light push. "Alright, then. So you really think you can teach me something?"

"Sure. Anyone can learn." Matt quickly pushed the sofa backwards and faced you, suddenly appearing much more imposing than he did when... well, when he wasn't about to spar with you. You lifted up your hands uncertainly, trying to mimic the boxing pose you'd seen him take on in Fogwell's.

"Okay. That's your first mistake," Matt said, stepping forward to grab your wrists and adjust them.

"How did I already screw up? I only lifted my hands."

"When you're assuming a defensive stance, you don't want to keep your hands that low. It's better to keep them up a bit higher to protect your ribs and face."

He moved your hands upward. "Good. You've got your thumbs right."

"See, I know what I'm doing," you said dryly. "Next time I get attacked on the street they'll be intimidated by my correct thumb placement."

"And you'll be grateful that your thumbs aren't broken after you throw a punch. I learned that the hard way." Matt paused for a moment. "I made the mistake of putting my thumb out. Stick didn't tell me. He said he thought it'd be a good way for the lesson to stick if there was a physical reminder."

"Bastard. Now I want to learn how to fight." You lifted up your fists. "Because if I ever get the chance to meet Stick, I assure you that he will be very familiar with my fists."

"I appreciate that support, but if that ever happens, I very vehemently would recommend against that." Matt held out his hands. "Attack me. I want to see what your fighting style is."

"You mean my fighting style or lack thereof?"

"Just go for it." Matt stood there confidently, his hands crossed in front of him casually and his eyes trained on your collarbone.

"I don't want to hurt you," you said uncertainly. "I mean, I know how dumb that sounds, because you're freaking Daredevil, but it feels wrong to just... throw a fist at you."

Matt only laughed. "Sweetheart, you won't hurt me."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Um." You considered your hands, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Don't judge me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Tentatively you sent a fist towards the left side of his abdomen. You expected him to just sidestep it, especially since it was a slow-moving punch — you didn't have the heart to put all of your strength into it, no matter what he said — but instead he blocked your arm, braced his other arm against your own, and forced you to twist around until your back was against his front and his arm was around your neck. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that."

He was taunting you, and it worked. "Fine," you said, and you tossed your elbow back with the intention of slamming it into him, but it hardly did anything at all; he took the blow as though you'd thrown a marshmallow at him.

"Go for the groin," he advised.

"Don't have to tell me twice," you said, lifting up your knee with the intention to nail him, but he took the opportunity to sweep your other leg out from under you. You fell to the floor, groaning. "I thought you wanted me to try getting you in the groin?"

"And I wanted to show you how that makes it easy for an assailant to knock you down. One foot on the ground is a surefire way to have zero feet on the ground."

"Come on, you kick all the time — flying kicks, spinning kicks, twirly-whirly kicks—"

"I don't do twirly-whirly kicks. And you can go for the groin, occasionally, but only when the timing is right and you won't get knocked down."

"I promise you that if I somehow manage to get in a fight with someone, the last thing I'll be doing is analyzing whether or not the timing is right for a groin kick, Matt."

"Okay. Try a heel palm strike." He took your arm and guided you through the movement, flexing your wrist and showing you how to pull your arm back quickly. "And go for the nose, or throat, if you can. That's effective. The ears are a good target, too. It's disorienting, even for someone who doesn't rely on their hearing to move around."

You gave him a look. "Please tell me that you don't get your ears boxed on a regular basis."

"Only twice." Matt kept going before you could say anything else. "There's several escapes I want to show you, in case you're ever being held against your will."

He proceeded to demonstrate to you the different ways you could free yourself, whether you were held in a headlock or your hands were tied; for his sake you tried to do as best as you could, though you felt fairly certain that each time you "freed" yourself, it was Matt letting you go, so you could experience the maneuver fully.

"Now get down," he said.

"On the floor?"

"For escaping while mounted. Lie on the floor, on your back."

"Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives?" you asked, smirking at him as you obeyed. He climbed on top of you and grabbed both of your wrists with a devious glint in his eyes.

"Never said I wouldn't enjoy myself," he said. He locked his legs around your waist and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to the floor. "So, if you ever find yourself in a position like this — God forbid — then what you're going to do is—"

"Panic and wait for the devilishly handsome Daredevil to show up and rescue this damsel in distress?" At Matt's expression, you backpedaled. "I'm kidding. Kidding. I'll fight back."

"Even though your wrists are pinned, your hands themselves are still free. Try to grab my wrist with your left hand."

You tugged, and Matt allowed you to pull your hand over so that you had your left hand securely locked around his wrist. "And what if my assailant is too strong and I can't do this?"

"Odds are that no matter how strong they are, if you can start kicking with your legs, spit in their face, or scream — anything to distract them — they're not going to be 100% focused on your one left wrist. They'll be contending with your flailing legs."

"Okay," you said doubtfully. "So I just grab your wrist... then—"

"Put your foot on my hip, push, and pull at my wrist simultaneously."

"But you've locked yourself around me," you said, struggling fruitlessly. "How am I supposed to move my legs?"

"Roll onto your hip. It'll create space. And if you can, reach up and grab the ear of the assailant, then pull them to the side."

"I'm not testing the ear move on you," you said firmly. "Nope."

"I second that," he admitted. "But try the hip roll."

To your surprise, it actually worked. And this time, you felt the natural shifting of your bodies, so that you could even slightly believe that it would work on your assailant no matter how big or strong they were. You rehearsed the move with Matt several times, swapping out which hand you used to reach up to him.

"Okay. Again, and faster. Real-time, if you can. And at the end, I want you to roll out all the way, and get out from under me," Matt said.

"Okay," you said, feeling that things wouldn't bode too well for you if Matt was going to put an ounce of effort in, but you got back in position. He grabbed both of your wrists, this time digging his knees painfully into your ribs, just enough for it to hurt without doing any real harm. You gasped, struggling for breath, and lunged forward to loosen yourself slightly, trying to roll over to no avail.

"Try again," Matt said, and you did, spontaneously leaning upwards as you jerked to the left and reached for his wrist. Once you had it, you pulled as hard as you could, pushing your knee against him. You could feel him yielding a bit, going easy on you — which slightly pissed you off even though you knew you'd have no chance against him otherwise — but at the same time it was still exhilarating.

Finally you freed yourself, and rolled out to the left and onto your knees, just as Matt followed through with your shove and lunged to block you.

"Keep going," he urged. "Get back on your feet."

You obeyed, adhering to his commands as he gave them, and it really was like a waltz once you got into the rhythm, dodging and learning to recognize which hand motions meant what.

"Now try dodging a new type of punch," he said, as a way of warning. "I'll be coming from this side over here."

"Which way do I go? To the left?"

"Right. And be ready, because this time I'm going to fight back more."

You weren't quite sure how it happened, though. The sweep of his arm, as you put all your weight to the left, resulted in you losing your balance and toppling over the follow-through of his leg, your arms to the side and unable to get forward quickly enough to brace yourself as your head made a beeline for the edge of the coffee table.

The impact it made felt as though someone had hammered a nail into the top of your forehead. You yelped, hand now free so that it could jump to the spot of impact.

Matt's reaction was visceral; like a TSA agent oddly eager to frisk, he had his hands out and seeking the exact spot where your forehead currently felt like the site of an excavation. "Dammit, I'm sorry — are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

"Why'd you go left?"

"You told me to go left."

"No, I said right."

You snorted despite yourself, closing your eyes against the ebbs of pain. "I interpreted 'right' as 'correct'. My bad."

"No, it's my bad, I should have—"

"Not your fault at all," you managed, brushing at your head. You expected blood, but it was dry. "Just a bump. I should have seen that coming."

"You probably have a concussion." Matt's tone was strangled, his left hand cupping the back of your head while his right grazed the bump. "I could call Claire, and have her come over—"

"Uh, no." The thought of having Matt's practically on-call nurse drop everything she was doing to come help you was mortifying. "I don't even think I have a concussion. Ask me my name. Bet I can ace any question you've got." Physically you pulled his hand away from your head. "Matt, really. It's okay."

"You're trying to mollify me."

"You're too worried," you said playfully. "It'll take more than a little bump to take me out. If you can get sliced up by the Yakuza, I think I can handle a love tap from the coffee table."

"That wasn't a love tap. I could hear the impact on your skull. And I can feel the heat already from the bruise forming."

"See, we don't need Claire. I'll never need to go to a hospital again with you around." You patted at your head and ignored the accompanying stab of pain that would otherwise have made you flinch if Matt wasn't there to detect it. "Can we go through the move again?"

"No."

"But you were the one who wanted me to learn in the first place."

"We'll go to Fogwell's another time," he said. "Someplace with floor mats and no sharp coffee table edges."

You rolled your eyes, but you could already see that his mind wasn't going to budge. He sat in a crouch, his head still tilted towards you as though he couldn't help keeping a constant monitor on your head, and it struck you, with the position he was currently in, how easy it would be to knock him over.

"Cow tipping!" you hollered at him, diving forward and throwing all of your weight against his side; from his crouched position on the tips of his feet, there was nowhere to go but sideways, and for one delicious microsecond, Matt Murdock, the same man you had seen balance precariously on fire escapes and jump nimbly from roof to roof, was forced to fumble his arms out in time to catch himself as he fell to his left. You leapt atop him, straddling his chest with your knees.

"You took down a blind man who was trying to help you," he mocked. "Shame on you. Were you faking the head pain, too?"

"I'm not that devious," you said. "Say mercy and I'll let you go."

Matt tipped his head back against the floor, his eyes reflecting the evening sunlight as it came out from behind the clouds. Without seeming to notice, his hands crept up the outside of your thighs, making goosebumps prickle on your skin. "You think that I need your acquiescence in order to get up?"

You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his shoulders. The muscles tensed under your fingertips, the biceps under your thumbs ready to spring into action at any moment. "As far as I'm concerned, right now I've conquered you, and if anyone were to see us then I think they'd agree with me."

"It's touching to see how much this means for you," he said. "I'll let you enjoy your victory for a bit longer."

"And then?"

"And then I get to win." His voice was lower, reminiscent of the devil, and your stomach dropped. Still you could feel the muscles poised under your hands, and you could feel your blood rising into your cheeks as his own hands crept lower.

You egged him on. "You can try," you said. "I'm warning you, though, that I could beat you whenever I want, easily. I just like to pretend I'm not as strong as I actually am. Wouldn't want to hurt the ego of Daredevil."

"Of course. How thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you know me."

"I'm guessing that was you who took down the trafficking ring a few nights ago, then? Left all those men unconscious in the alley?"

"Uh, obviously." You leaned in closer. "That's why you've got to play nice, Murdock. If I get mad, I might just go all Hulkish on you and you'll be begging for my mercy—"

Quickly enough that you jumped, startled, Matt rolled out from underneath you with even more ease than you would have expected, and with a swift grab of your wrists, he pinned you down beneath him, just like earlier when you sparred.

"You were saying?" he asked, grinning. Immediately you tried the move that had worked on him previously — he definitely was going easy on you earlier, then — but this time he blocked it. You scowled, and tried again; once more it yielded nothing.

"You're not getting up until you make some amendments to what you were saying, Y/N."

"Well, let me clarify," you began, and Matt's lips lifted upwards as he began to smirk.

Nope. He's not getting any satisfaction yet.

"I'm currently giving you the impression that you've won," you continued, and his expression shifted, as though he were trying not to laugh. "It's an important part of keeping your ego up, of course. Every so often I like to give you these little nuggets of delusion."

"Nuggets of delusion," Matt repeated.

"Sure. I'm selective with them. But when I feel like you need a bit of a self-esteem boost, then bam, you've got it. So right now, I'm giving you a nugget. It's all part of my strategy." You lay beneath him, the floor hard on your back, as he seemed to mull over what his response was going to be.

Instead, he simply took your wrists and moved them above your head, where he pinned both to the floor with his left hand and then moved his right hand down to your throat.

"What?" you managed. "You don't like delusion nuggets?"

"I want you to admit you're lying."

"But you already know I'm lying."

"I want the verbal confession."

"I confess to nothing," you said stubbornly, your heart picking up as his thumb brushed over the center of your throat.

"Try again, sweetheart. And remember that I know where you're most ticklish."

"Uh... you are by far the strongest man I've ever met and I could never compare to you?"

"And what else?"

"I love you?" you said, your voice higher than usual, because damn, Matt leaning directly above you was distracting.

"Better." He released your wrists and pulled you up into him.

You buried your head into his chest, sighing. "Can't believe you just tackled a concussed person to the floor."

"That was not a tackle. That was... one percent effort. Even half a percent." He paused a moment. "And you said the bump wasn't anything to be concerned about."

"Mm. Did I lie?" you asked him, kissing his hand.

"No," he admitted. "But I still don't trust you."

"You shouldn't. Because the next time you're tying your shoes, or cleaning out underneath the oven or something, I'm totally going to cow tip you again."

"Seriously? 'Cow tipping'? Did you make that up?"

"For a guy who knows everything, I'm appalled you don't know what cow tipping is."

"Please tell me you've never actually shoved a real cow over."

"You really do think poorly of me," you said, stretching. "Just you wait, Murdock. When you least expect it, you shall be cow tipped again. Just you wait."

#100 with Matt for the kisses pls bc I need all of the Matt kisses to mend my heart after that jealousy prompt (and it could kind of lead into this 😝) 🥰x

I was so desperate to connect them together but we need so much writing to be able to get from here to there. SO instead, I decided to give this heartbreaking ask a part 2 and give it a happier ending!! I hope that makes up for how mean I’ve been 💀 happy valentine’s day babes!! @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Send me a kiss prompt ✨

#100 - “it’s always been you” kisses

Your eyes peeled open slowly, your mind fuzzy and your heart calm. You went to move, only to realise that you weren’t alone in your bed. That’s when it all started to come back to you.

Last night, Matt showed up at your door, beaten and bruised and barely able to stand. He was leaning against your door frame when you opened up, his mask in his hand and his arm around his middle. The only words on his lips were “I’m sorry”.

You brought him in, tended to his injuries and helped him get cleaned up. Your heart ached in your chest the entire time. You loved him so much but couldn’t have him. He was very clear; he’d told you that he lost his feelings for you and he didn’t believe he could come back from that. He broke your heart to a million little pieces but it wasn’t enough to make you hate him.

You couldn’t hate him, you couldn’t move on from him, you couldn’t love anyone but him.

You gently turned your head to look at him, his eyes closed and eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

He looked peaceful, angelic, despite the bruises on his cheeks and temples and the stitches by his eyebrow. His arm was around you, even though you tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible while you slept.

You could feel your heart expand in your chest, your eyes welling up with tears the longer you looked at him.

I love you

I love you and I wish you still loved me too

Your breath caught in your throat as you turned over, suppressing your sobs as you faced away from Matt.

You couldn’t stop the crying, you couldn’t stop the pain. It consumed you.

Too afraid you’d wake him up, you pushed yourself off the bed, stifling your sobs as you got up.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, his voice thick with sleep, “you’re crying.”

“No, no,” you lied, even though you knew he’d see right through it, “I just had a bad dream.”

“I know when you’re lying,” he sighed, sitting up in bed as you turned around to face him, wiping the tears from your eyes with your sleeves.

“Why wont you love me?” You asked him, your voice low and sad, breaking his heart in his chest.

“What?” He asked softly, his chest feeling like it was caving in on itself.

“You must know how important you are to me,” you whispered, your fingers pulling at a loose thread on your sleeve, your eyes cast down, “you know how I feel about you. And you act so unaffected by all of it like I never meant anything to you. Why am I not good enough for you?”

Within the next second, Matt was off the bed and in front of you, his palms against your cheeks, his fingers wiping your tears away. Pain was etched across his beautiful face, his eyes sadder than you had ever seen them. He was distraught.

“I was trying to protect you,” he whispered, his thumbs caressing your cheeks softly, “I wanted to keep you out of harm’s way. And the only way I knew how to do that for sure was to push you away from me. It wasn’t fair to you. I hurt you far worse than I thought.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers curling around the fabric of his t-shirt at his chest, your eyes staring at your fingers, processing what he was saying.

“I never stopped loving you, ever,” he said, nudging your head up to face him, “it was hurting me too. To not be able to hold you, talk to you, tell you I love you more than anything and hear you say it back. I just would have never forgiven myself if anything happened to you because of me.”

“But something did happen to me because of you,” you told him, “I was in pain. It hurt to hear you say you didn’t want me anymore. It hurt to believe it.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing his forehead against yours, “I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you so much.”

He dropped his hand to cradle your jaw in his palm, his lips almost touching yours, “it’s always been you.”

Not another word needed to be said. Your lips met in a kiss that felt like ice meeting molten lava. It was passionate, deep, hard and soft at the same time. You held each other close, too afraid that if you let go, the other would disappear.

“I will never stop loving you. I can’t.”

This Is A Code F (fic; matt murdock x reader; rated T)

this is fluffy nonsense but wheezy sick devil is an idea I’ve had for a bit now and finally delivered. May it be an appropriate apology for the angst in TRT rn.

Ship: Matt Murdock x Reader Rating: T. Some swearing and some nude shenanigans but nothing major.

Summary:

You’ve never seen Matt get the flu before, but despite Foggy’s warnings, you’re not all that worried. Matt’s sick. How difficult could it be to look after him?

Really difficult, as it turns out, because Matt Murdock does not do anything by halves, whether it’s attacking mobsters or feverishly perching on the banister like a wheezing gargoyle.

Time to get the cough syrup. 

Wordcount: 4,507

Warnings for this chapter: language, nudity, sickness. You know what you’re in for. This is true love, in sickness and in health. Let’s do this.

You’d never actually seen Matt get sick.

It never seemed to matter how busy he was or how many sick people he was around. He never hesitated, either, to care for you when you were sick. Regardless of your level of contagion, you could count on him to be nearby, hovering and eager to provide whatever hot soup, warm tea, and sick-day cuddling you needed. At this point, you were pretty sure he used some sort of secret meditation trick to turn his antibodies into miniature Hulks. His body laughed in the face of the common cold, turned its nose up at the stomach flu, likely because it got stabbed on the weekly and anything less seemed a bit underwhelming in comparison.

That was why you knew something was off when you woke to find Matt standing beside the bed, swaying and soaked in sweat.

“Matt?” you asked warily, furrowing your brow.

He shivered, swinging his head back and forth. It was a clear attempt to orient, and an attempt that didn’t seem to do him much good based on the way he almost stumbled as he stepped away from the bed.

Matt didn’t stumble. Not unless he was hurt.

“Matt, Matt!” You scrambled out from under the blankets and over to his side of the bed, already rolling through a list of possible injuries—another gunshot to the head, hit by a car, internal bleeding, bitten by a diseased raccoon while defending a citizen, picked a fight with a Much Larger Bad Dude. You’d learned by now never to rule anything out when it came to Matt. Had he slipped up yesterday, gotten hit maybe? He had been unusually tired last night, but ‘tired’ was more of a default state for Matt than an outlier, and you had a feeling he slept standing up more times than he’d admit, using his red shades as cover while he catnapped.

It would be just your luck if he’d added another head injury to the mix.

“Matt, hey, you ok?”

“Don’t… feel right,” he said thickly, sounding so congested you probably could have walked him past the fish market without so much as a wrinkled nose. He took another uneven step towards the doorway. “Need… Just need… tea. ‘M fine.”

You quickly threw your legs over the side of the bed, reaching for him. “Matt, wait, you’re gonna hit the—”

“Fine,” he slurred insistently, before promptly running into the doorframe.

That was the start of your morning, and it only got worse from there.

Weiterlesen

Lingering | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: literally like none. Just a bunch of fluff and Matt taking care of you. This is entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You've been worked to the bone and slept a total of 3 hours, so Matt takes care of you during your burnout.

A/N: there will be a smutty part 2 to this 😌 This was made for ezra and i bc we're tired. Enjoy!

"Sweetheart," Matt whispers, knuckles brushing across your cheek as he pulls you back into consciousness as gently as possible. You had been working on his couch for hours on end, laptop screen now dimmed where it lay on your lap, forgotten as you slip in and out of sleep. His touch stirs you, dreams fading out into the background only to be replaced by the pleasant feeling of Matt’s touch.

Your eyes finally blink open enough that you can focus on him, smiling softly at the sight of your boyfriend kneeling in front of you, his hands warm on your cheeks. The billboard outside his window glows brighter now that the sun has dipped behind the skyline, reds and purples dancing across Matt’s face and you can’t help but wonder how he gets prettier each time you see him.

Then again, maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to you, because the first words out of your mouth are “you look like a skittle, Matty.” He huffs out a laugh, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, wiping away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye “care to explain?” You shake your head and lean further into his touch, fighting back against the urge to let your eyes slip shut again. “The candy, Matt. They come in rainbow colors, and the light outside is making your face purple. Need I say more?”

“No, I guess not,” Matt muses quietly, grin dimpling his cheeks, brushing back the hair that sticks to the side of your mouth from where you had leaned into your hand.

His touch drop from your face to take the laptop and move it to the coffee table, then gripping your waist so he can pull you to the edge of the couch. Your thighs press to his sides and you can feel each breath he takes, steady and a bit faster than your own sleepy breathing. “Sorry I fell asleep, I was trying to wait until you got home,” you mumble, leaning forward to place your forehead on his shoulder, cursing under your breath when your head thumps harder against him than anticipated. Damn your heavy head and sleep-deprived reflexes.

Matt hums in acknowledgment, tapping your arms until you get the gist and raise them to wrap around his shoulders. “You should’ve gone to bed sweetheart, especially if you’re this tired. Mind telling me how many hours you got last night?” He knows he has you when your breath hitches, face pressing further into his neck. You don’t want him to know just how late you had been up the night before while he was out deviling, finishing your notes for the day while you waited until you eventually passed out.

But you know that he’s just concerned, so you press a kiss to the junction of his neck and jaw in hopes that he won’t scold you when you tell him. “About three hours,” you whisper, stifling an obnoxiously timed yawn that almost seems like the universe picking Matt’s side. He sighs quietly, though there’s no real agitation behind it, just concern “let's get you to bed, then.” This time there’s no need for a tap before you wrap your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his hands slide under your thighs to lift.

Matt stands with no sign of strain, even as he holds your weight in his arms and carries you across the living room and into his bedroom, bending over to ease you onto the edge of the bed. The exhaustion that had seeped into your bones weighs heavier the second Matt steps back to rummage through the drawer that keeps your t-shirts, hands moving across each article of clothing to feel the fabric. He picks the one softest against his fingertips and plucks it from its spot, moving back to stand in front of you. He quickly picks up on the way that you’re swaying, eyelids moving slower with each passing second “c’mon angel, let’s at least change out of your clothes.”

Your stomach flutters with affection at the use of angel, a dopey smile finding its way on your lips. Matt reserved that name for you, the highest of praise coming from the catholic himself, love and adoration seeping through the two syllables. He loved listening to the way it made your heart leap to your throat, mapping the mental image of your blissed expression that his senses piece together, tucking it away for later examination.

Matt leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, placing the sleep shirt to the side so he could tug the one currently on you over your head, tossing it into the corner. You take the time to shimmy off your pants while he unfolds the replacement, placing it on top of your hair and tugging it down, placing yet another kiss to the tip of your nose the second the collar passes.

“Can you stay for a bit before you go out, Matty?” you speak in a hushed tone, letting your boyfriend maneuver your arms into the holes, limbs too tired to do much other than grab at him.

“Of course I can- lets get you under the blankets, baby,” Matt presses against your shoulder until you lay back, eyes already closing while he tugs the silk comforter up to your chest. There’s an attempt to open your gaze one more time so you can catch a glimpse of him to admire in all your sleep deprived glory before inevitably collapsing back into the arms of slumber, but you sorely underestimate the intensity of your fatigue, eyelids only twitching with the attempt.

Matt sheds his work clothes, head tilted just slightly to listen to the sound of you, breathing slowing until it evens out completely. The bed dips under his weight as he slides in beside you, reaching around to pull your body flush against his chest. Matt always needs to feel you in one way or another, needed to feel the heat of your form against his, smooth skin pressed to the marred flesh of his chest. You’d trace the scars late at night when it was just the two of you, curving your finger along them like his body was a canvas and you were the mastermind behind the art.

Your lips part, slow intakes of breath filling your lungs. “I love you so much,” you murmur against his neck, drifting away and leaving him to follow.

Matt holds you tighter “I love you too, sweetheart.”

—

Sometime around midnight is when you wake up again, hand thumping on the mattress beside you but finding no sign of Matt, only a lingering heat left behind from where he had laid next to you. You know he would probably resort to smothering you with a pillow if you attempted to stay up for him, so you decide against it, instead dragging his pillow to your chest and inhaling his scent, letting it envelop you as you close your eyes once again.

Somewhere on a rooftop, a few buildings away, Matt is listening to your breathing, pausing only momentarily to ensure that you get the rest you need before continuing on with his patrol. Slinking in and out of the shadows as fast as possible so he can get home to you.

Neighbor Pt. 6

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: On a random midnight, she comes to Matt's apartment to feel less lonely. Matt lets her in.

Words: just under 3k!

Genres: FLUFF with a dash of angst because of course... they are just two lost souls confiding in the other <3

A/N: I sort of had trouble with this chapter but she's finally here lol. This picks up from Pt. 5... hope you like it!!!

Part 5

Matt felt rejuvenated the next morning. 

Maybe it wasn’t stress he had been feeling the past few weeks… maybe it was something else, something he hadn’t felt in a while. Something that made him need sweet relief that throwing punches and taking hits couldn’t provide. He needed something more sensual—intimate. Something else to get his anxiety and frustration out. Even if it was a brush of contact. Something as simple as a touch. 

Yeah, it had been a while since he’d felt that. And it felt so good to listen to her like that… despite how wrong it was. That was until she said his name out loud. Matt pondered the question all morning as he lay in bed waiting for his alarm to go off. What did it mean? Did she like him like that? What should he do next?

  Nothing, he decided. It was wrong he knew she felt that way about him… it was wrong he continued to listen to her. It was wrong of him to think he could ever make her happy when he leads the life he leads. But God, did it feel so good to think that for a moment—just a moment—it might be possible. 

He rolls out of bed as soon as he hears his automated alarm go off. Wake up, wake up! Matt slams the alarm with his fist, harder than he intended to. He sits for a moment on the edge of his bed, feeling achy all over. Other people in the apartment are waking up right now, too. Downstairs, someone turns their stove on and begins to cook bacon. Another apartment opens its windows to the cool winter air. And her—she’s awake now, too. She turned her TV on to the news.

“Daredevil took down an armed robbery and saved an old woman at the corner bodega…“ 

Matt tunes it out immediately. 

It was strange to hear news about himself playing in her apartment. It made him uncomfortable. There he was, imagining a future with her and playing with the idea of being intimate with her, all the while having one of the biggest secrets ever. 

After a hot shower and brewing coffee, Matt was just about to be on his way out. He heard her shuffling behind her door, slipping her boots on, and zipping up her coat. They always walked out at the same time, an unspoken ritual. Maybe it was safer to keep it like this, Matt thought. Maybe this was as far as they’d ever go. 

Matt took a deep breath as he stepped out, unsurprisingly at the same time as she did. Matt heard her heart rate quicken as she saw him. 

“G’morning, Matt,” she said softly, as casually as she could.

“Morning,” he smiled. Act natural. “Sleep well?” 

She paused, ever so slightly, and locked her door. “I did, better than I normally do. You?”

“Same,” Matt answered, picking up on her hesitation. Maybe he should leave the conversation at this, not push anything further. From the way she was speaking quietly to her slight quiver, Matt knew she was nervous. He didn’t want to make her feel that way. 

“I hope you have a good day, Matt,” she smiled, walking ahead of him down the stairs. Before Matt could give a response, she was already out the door. Matt slowly followed behind, somehow feeling guilty about it all over again. 

She weighed heavy on his mind all day—did he do something wrong unknowingly? All of this was confusing—he heard her say his name at her most intimate, and this morning she seemed to want to avoid him altogether. What happened?

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong. 

***

Matt walked up the steps to his apartment slowly, one hand using his cane to guide himself, the other holding onto the rail. He passed the floors of the other apartments. They were all so loud to him. Fran had the TV on a bit higher than usual. Someone’s dog was barking begging to be fed. Another was on the phone having a heated conversation with an in-law. All day, Matt was consumed by conversations he wished not to be part of. Sounds he wished he could drown out and turn off.

Finally, he reached the floor of his apartment—and hers. He liked that he shared this floor with only her. He paused at the top of the steps and pressed his fingertips against the wall. She was inside, home already from work. From the sound of her soft breathing and very still movement, Matt knew she was sleeping. A part of him melted inside. Tired from a long day of work himself, he walked as quietly as he could to his apartment and opened the door slowly to avoid making any sound.

He wasted no time changing into his Daredevil gear and waiting on his roof.

***

Matt felt accomplished when he arrived back on his rooftop after a night out as Daredevil. He stopped another robbery and saved an old couple’s bodega. He saved an old man from being mugged. He saved a young girl and her mother from an abusive ex-boyfriend. 

Entering his apartment, he stripped himself of his Daredevil gear and locked it away in his old trunk. He paused, hand still on the locked trunk that held his most detrimental secret. This trunk used to belong to his father. He pushed it inside the closet and closed the door. He made a sign of the cross and stalked off to the bathroom. 

It was shortly past midnight. After washing off in the shower, Matt changed into sweatpants. He lay in bed and shut his eyes. His thoughts always drifted to the same thing: was there more to this life, than just keeping a secret? 

After reciting a prayer and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a gentle knocking on his door. His eyes shot open and his senses were fully engaged in the source of the sound. More knocks came. It was her. She shivered under her cardigan and shifted in her slippers from foot to foot, anxiously. Was something wrong? Why was she at his door so late?

Matt threw on a shirt quickly and walked over to open his door. Just as she was about to turn around and retreat to her apartment, thinking this is stupid, Matt opened his door. She stood there with her arms tucked around her frame and shivered from the cold in the hallway.

“Hi,” she said in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, Matt. I know it’s late. But I heard your shower go off and assumed you were awake and—God, I realize how creepy that sounds that I heard your water running so I knew you were awake—never mind. I’ve spoken too much,” she rambled nervously, shivering from the cold in the hallway. Matt was surprised by her presence; he wasn’t upset at all. He welcomed her sudden appearance but couldn’t help but wonder why she was there. 

Not to mention her apologizing for hearing his water running, and assuming he was awake. After all the things he’s heard her do through her apartment… Matt was in no place to judge (not that he would, anyway).

“It's okay,” Matt whispered her name. “I was awake. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, and Matt didn’t have to listen to her heartbeat to know she was lying. It was in her voice, her mannerisms. The way she answered quickly without really considering his question. “I just—“ and she was shivering so much.

“You can come in,” Matt opened the door wider. “It’s cold in the hall.” 

“Okay,” she stepped inside his apartment and away from him as he shut his large, old door. Matt locked it and turned around to smile at her. It was then Matt realized he forgot to put his glasses on. 

“I’m sorry, let me get my glasses on,” Matt said sheepishly, reaching for them on the side table. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to put them on.” She paused, looking at his handsome face in the low glow of his apartment. He wasn’t hard to look at at all—from his warm hazel eyes to his plump lips. 

“Are you sure you won’t be uncomfortable?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m barging in on your place—you don’t have to sacrifice your comfort for mine.” 

He smiled at that and then offered her to take a seat on his couch. He allowed her a moment to get a sense of her surroundings—she’d never been in his apartment before. Her heartbeat was steady. She looked around his living room and squinted at the windows when the large screen across the street flashed bright purple and pink lights. 

“Wow,” she said, looking back at his dark apartment. “Those are bright.”

“So I’ve heard,” Matt said lightly with a warm smile. “Do you want any water?”

“I’m okay. Thank you.”

She curled up on the corner of his brown leather couch, tucking her feet in underneath her legs. She was still shivering. Matt offered her the blanket that lay on it and she took it gracefully. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said sheepishly wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, “truthfully, I couldn’t sleep and I could use a friend to talk to.”

A friend? Matt’s heart jumped at this. She considered him a friend. 

“I’m glad you came,” Matt replied. 

“On Christmas, you told me that any time I felt lonely, I could come by. So… this is one of those times.”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded. “Felt lonely tonight?”

“Not anymore,” she sighed, pleasantly, like his presence alone was enough to cure whatever it was she was feeling. “I took a long nap after work to avoid it and woke up feeling worse than I did before. Like a harrowing, deep hole in my chest.” 

Matt knew that feeling all too well—a hole he’d been trying to fill since he was 11. It occurred to him in that moment Matt hardly knew anything about her. Where she came from, what her story was. She knew bits and pieces of him but he didn’t know anything more than that she lived alone and worked at a bookstore. 

“I understand,” Matt said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe another time,” she said, pushing the matter away. “I just wanted to get my mind off it.”

Matt was happy she was comfortable enough to come to him this late at night for nothing more than just another person to talk to. He could be that person for her—he wanted to be that person for her. 

“I didn’t know you had hazel eyes,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t hide them as much as you do behind those red glasses.” 

Matt blushed—unfamiliar with this feeling in his chest, like a bubbling warmth spread over that harrowing hole she was talking about just moments ago. “Oh,” he said. “People can get uncomfortable when they see my eyes.”

“Then screw them,” she said defiantly. “Like I said…you shouldn’t sacrifice your comfort for theirs.” 

“Thank you,” Matt replied. “For understanding that part.” 

“Were you—“

“Born blind?” Matt had finished this question so many times, that it became a habit to interject whenever anyone began to ask it. “No. It was an accident when I was a kid.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” Matt shrugged. He wanted to open up to her, as much as he could—without revealing his biggest secret of all. “I saw an old man crossing the street. A large truck with chemical containers was coming down the block at the same time. I pushed the old man out of the way. The truck lost control, and swerved to avoid hitting us. Well, it did bump me a little, and all the chemicals fell over, leaking everywhere. Some of it got in my eyes and—“

“That was it,” she finished his sentence. “Wow.” 

“That was it,” Matt repeated. His gaze fell on the carpet. He sat at the opposite end of the couch. 

“So, little Matt was a hero?” He could hear the smile in her voice when she said this. Matt chuckled. 

“I did what anyone else would have.”

“How many adults were there, do you remember?”

“It was on a random corner in Hell’s Kitchen. Plenty of people were walking around.”

“So, you did what anyone else would have avoided.”

Matt blushed, looked away from the general direction he was looking in. It felt different to be called a hero when it was coming from her lips. 

“Sure,” he finally said. “We can go with that.”

“Do you…” her voice trailed off, unsure how to phrase her next question without sounding offensive. 

“You can ask me anything,” Matt assured her. “You know a lot about me that some of my closest friends don’t know. Nothing’s off the table.”

“Do you miss having sight? That’s probably a silly question. Do you remember the last thing you saw?”

“The sky,” Matt answered, a flash of blue appearing in his mind. “That was the last thing I saw. And I do miss having sight,” Matt took a deep breath. “But there are other ways to see.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed. “How do you see in other ways?”

What a loaded question, he thought. 

“Touch, for one. I can get a sense of something when I touch it. Smell—easy to distinguish what’s on my plate. I still know what a majority of things look like.”

“But not people,” she stated. 

“Not people,” Matt affirmed. “But there’s a way for me to paint a picture in my mind.”

“How? A person describes what they look like?”

“Descriptions help,” Matt answered, “but touching their face helps a hell of a lot more.” 

She was silent for a moment, understanding his answers and pondering them. She wondered what he would think of her if he could see. Matt felt as if she was wondering that very thought.

“Do you want to touch my face?” She asked in a hesitant voice. “Or I can describe to you what I look like.”

Matt felt his heart grow in his chest. How could he answer that question, without revealing his true feelings for her right then and there? It had been months of being her neighbor that he hoped and prayed he could cross that threshold with her. Hell, it was a miracle she was in his apartment at that moment. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Matt finally said, shifting in his seat. 

“I am,” she whispered, leaning forward. “Come here.”

Matt moved closer to her on his couch until his left knee was touching her right. When he sat close enough to her, she grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to guide him. 

Starting with her hair, she gently brushed his fingers through it. It was soft. Every thread of her hair felt like water slipping gently through his fingers. Matt held his breath as his fingers grazed her neck. He had to close his eyes for this part. Matt gently placed his hand on the side of her neck, feeling how soft her skin felt on his fingertips. Like Braille, he ran his fingers ever so lightly on her skin, goosebumps following his touch. 

He moved his hand to the side of her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. He gently ran his thumb over her brown bone, smoothing it out. Then he traced his thumb under her eye in a sweeping motion. His gaze fell on her chin. He traced the pad of his thumb down the bridge of her nose, stopping at her cupid’s bow. She gently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Matt gently let out a breath too. He took his other hand and cupped the other side of her face in his palm, feeling her cheeks heat against him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a steady boom boom, boom boom, he had come to memorize to help him fall asleep. He caressed her chin with his thumb and traced her jawline before slowly running his hand down the length of her neck, retreating to his thigh. 

“Beautiful,” Matt whispered. It was all he could say. 

“Matt…” she uttered his name, trailing off, losing her words. Her heart felt like a cement block in her chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to touch her again. She reached for his hand and placed it on her face, desperate to feel how gently he held her again, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

She turns her head into his hand and kisses his palm. Matt moves his fingers to the back of her head and guides her lips to his, a kiss that should’ve happened a long time ago. Her lips molded to his, the taste of her bringing him back to life, filling that empty hole in his chest again. He hoped it had the same effect on her. Her hand moved to hold his face, a plan to not break the kiss. A plan that didn’t matter if it worked or not, because Matt wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t going to let go of her. 

When she eventually did pull back, he only wanted more. 

“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, “for letting me in.” 

Letting her into his apartment, or letting her into his heart—both answers were suitable. 

Eventually, she did go back to her apartment, for reasons they didn’t need to say out loud. But it would be a while until they brought up this night again. 

______________________________________________________________

TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy @marvelcinematiquniverse @sweetbee0108

Nobody asked but idc I need some fluff for while I'm writing the angst...

Matthew Michael Murdock in Love:

TOUCH. STARVED.

This man has been touch-starved for literally so long. Besides his friends guiding him or the one-night stands he participates in, this man is seriously lacking in Vitamin A for Affection.

Once he feels like he's allowed to, if his baby is nearby best believe he wants to be able to touch her in some way at all times. Reading a book? He's got a hand on your leg while he does his work. Or he's got his head on your shoulder and asks you to read to him. Cooking? Ninja man sneaks up behind you to hold you. Snoozing on his couch? He'll pull your legs into his lap or hand over your hair. Sitting together? Hand on your leg, around your shoulders, or touching your waist. If you're within arm's reach forget about it. He finds safety in your touch and will seek it out every chance.

Matt loves touching his sweetheart's hair. So soft and so smooth on his skin. He fiddles with it every chance he gets, toying with the ends or sweeping it over your shoulder, tucking it behind your ear, running his fingers through it... He can't get enough.

He's protective asf. Which sometimes turns him into a mother-hen. He takes his job as your support system/protector very seriously. Always walking between you and the road on the sidewalk, arm in arm. He's always conscious of where you are in the apartment and when you leave he makes sure to check what your plans are so he can keep track of where you are.

He hates texting you. He'd rather call you or swap voice memos. Any chance to hear your voice over the robotic AI voice that reads his text messages.

That's all I've got for now I needed something soft to get me through the angsty drafting.

:)

Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

 “Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves. 

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with. 

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.” 

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them. 

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say. 

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong. 

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece. 

“I love you too,” you murmur. 

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about. 

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing. 

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad. 

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door. 

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway. 

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks. 

“I ran out,” you say. 

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse. 

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too. 

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

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