Matt Murdock X Fem!reader - Tumblr Posts

broke my heart and mended it back together in the end🥹

Green is the Color

Pairing: Matt Murdock x FemReader

Word Count: 7,200

Summary: Karen Page looks flawless next to Matt in a way that you don’t. Insecurities and jealousies were bound to pop up at some point.

Trigger warnings: None. Just some angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

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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.

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"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. 

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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)

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

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. 

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

Lie Detector

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Summary: Matt thinks that you can't successfully lie to him. The only way to settle the dispute is to challenge one another to a bet, but trying to deceive a human lie detector isn't quite as easy as you'd expect.

A/N: Finally on summer break and I've had time to do some writing. I'm really drawn to a reader/matt dynamic that's super competitive, so... here we are, with yet another "game". Hope it's alright!

Sometimes, having a lie detector as a boyfriend sucked.

You realized this early on, when all of the sudden the white lies that you told habitually in order to protect others' feelings crumbled into a big dust cloud of useless whenever Matt heard them.

Last week at supper, for instance. Matt had cooked a beautiful meal — homemade rolls, oven-roasted vegetables, and your favorite pasta — and it was all delicious. Except for one experimental vegetable thrown in that you were... less fond of, to say the least.

But of course he asked you if you liked it, of course he did.

"It's incredible," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "The pasta is cooked perfectly. Also, homemade rolls? I mean, these can't even compare to the local bakeries. It's all really good, Matt."

"And the... new vegetable?" he asked, taking a bite.

Shit.

You sat stock still for half a second, your mind whirring. Fortunately, you'd gotten better at dodging situations where typically you would just save yourself with a white lie, but with Matt, there was rarely a safe way out of a question.

"It's got such a unique flavor!" you said warmly. Truth. "I don't think I've ever had it before. Where'd you get the recipe?"

"Foggy's sister. It is unique," he agreed. "You like the taste?"

Damn it. Something told you that Matt suspected you didn't like it; why else would he be so persistent about asking? "It's so unexpected," you hedged. "You cooked it really well."

Which was also a truth. The texture was good, at least; Matt had roasted it perfectly. It was the flavor you were less keen on, and you had to fight the urge to drink water after every bite.

Matt's lips turned upwards. "Sweetheart, you don't have to choke it down for me."

From there, everything unraveled. "I love it," you tried to say, but Matt's eyebrows were raising and you yourself could feel that your heart was speeding up. "Really! I love it, it's fantastic—"

You loaded your fork with it, preparing to take a large bite out of a manic desire to ensure Matt didn't find out the truth, but he deftly reached forward and grabbed your wrist. "Lost cause, Y/N." His thumb grazed your wrist, as though to match the sensation of your pulse to what he could hear.

You reluctantly put the fork down. "Come on, Matt, stop reading me for once! You cooked a beautiful supper and I want you to know how much I appreciate it—"

"You can appreciate it while letting me know you don't like a certain type of food. I promise my ego isn't dependent on a single vegetable."

"But I feel bad!" you protested. "And with anyone else, I would have just lied and said it's amazing, but with you, I have to be a schmuck about it!"

"You're not a schmuck."

"Matt, I'm a schmuck." You pointed at yourself. "Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad schmuck. Plus, it's unfair. I'm sure you lie to me all the time, and I probably just don't even notice it. Like last week, when I asked you if I have a nice voice to listen to and you told me that me that it's music to your ears, or some crap like that."

"It is music to my ears."

"I call bullshit. Unless by 'music' you meant death metal or country."

"So start lying to me," Matt said, his fingers absently moving up your forearm. "If you're able to control your nervousness when you do it."

"Is that a challenge? I'm sensing a challenge."

Matt was smiling now, and it wasn't his charming smile, it was what you thought of as his shit-eating grin. "Aw, let's not call it a challenge. I know how upset you get when you lose."

"That's it." You slapped his hand away from your arm. "Prepare to be lied to. Constantly. And if I succeed, and you don't notice that I've lied to you, then you have to..." You thought for a moment. "You'll have to wear your Daredevil suit to Foggy's when we have dinner with him and Karen on Sunday night."

Matt's smile dropped instantly. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Um, obviously because it would be hilarious seeing you uncomfortable, and Foggy and Karen would take some awesome pictures of you?"

He grit his teeth as though contemplating. "Fine. And if I win, and I notice every lie, you can go through all of the old archives sitting in Karen's filing cabinet at Nelson and Murdock and make copies so that they can all be organized by legal topic as well as by date."

"What? How is that fair? That's hours of my time!"

"I thought you said you were confident that you'd win?"

"Well. Yeah." You leaned over to playfully shove at him. "Okay, then. I'm in."

"But if you actually are apprehensive about this bet, then we don't have to do the challenge. I won't hold it against you."

Bold way to throw down the gauntlet, Matt. There was no backing out now. "Nope. Deal accepted," you said, and stood up to clear the plates. "Oh, and by the way, I don't get 'upset' when I lose. I'm a fantastic loser."

"Lie," Matt said, almost lazily.

Damn.

That was how it began. Of course, together you enumerated more rules, both printed and in braille, and posted them on the fridge.

Rule Number One: A lie had to be the subject of whatever you were talking about. It couldn't be a throw-away comment unrelated to the conversation itself, nor could it be anything so minor that it didn't even matter. It was forbidden to, for example, tell Matt about your day and say green shirt when you were actually referring to a blue shirt and count that as a lie. It had to stand on its own, loud and proud.

Rule Number Two: You had forty-eight hours to complete the challenge. Which, admittedly, didn't give you a lot of time. Matt was on his guard every time you opened your mouth, which meant you'd have to be strategic about this, if you wanted to win.

Rule Number Three: The lie had to be delivered in heartbeat earshot. That meant you couldn't lie to him through text messages or a long distance phone call.

Rule Number Four: If Matt falsely accused you of lying more than twice, then you won. You argued this rule in as a safeguard; otherwise, he could call out your lies on whims without any consequences.

And, finally, Rule Number Five: A lie had an expiration on it of ten seconds. If Matt didn't name the lie within ten seconds of you delivering it, then you won. You had even argued for more time, but it was Matt who had told you, with a particularly cocky wave of his hand, that he'd sense it within that time.

Several times you had tried lying to him since the start of the challenge. Each time, he'd sniffed it out immediately — almost instinctively, even — so that it was almost embarrassing at how readable you were.

"You heading out tonight for patrol?" you asked him when you emerged from the shower that night, wearing only a tee of Matt's and a towel around your head.

"Only for a bit. I've got to catch up on some paperwork this evening."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, it's just prep for my opening next Wednesday." Matt tilted back in his chair, stretching with a restlessness that told you he'd much prefer to be out on the rooftops than reading through paperwork.

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do," you said, and then added the lie: "I'll go do some reading, then."

Matt didn't hesitate. "What're you really going to be doing?"

You scrunched your nose at him, irritated. "And I thought I was so nonchalant. My heart is a traitor. Slow down, you." You slapped at your upper chest and lied again. "I actually wanted to do some online shopping. I need a new pair of sunglasses."

"No, you don't."

You released a dramatic exhale. "Fine! I'm going to journal a bit."

Matt listened for a moment, and then nodded, clearly placated. "I'll come say bye before I head out."

And then you even thought that you might get him when he came back, because it was past two in the morning and he'd taken a faster shower than usual — an indication he was anxious to get to bed —but when he crawled under the covers, apparently he was still on guard.

"Come in closer," you whispered, half-asleep yourself despite your hope of lying to him. "I meant to stay up for you, but I fell asleep."

Which wasn't true, even though you did often stay up for him. Tonight you had slipped into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

But Matt caught it; his hand nudged at your arm to acknowledge the lie. "Even this late, you're still trying to win the bet?"

Loopholes in the rules were hard to find, you realized. Matt seemed to appreciate your attempts to bypass them the next day — in fact, the closest you came to successfully lying was that morning, when you had about thirty-two hours left in the challenge. You had left to pick up bread for breakfast, and had just stepped out onto the street when you put your plan into action and dialed Matt's number.

Because technically, here on the street, right below the apartment, Matt could still hear your heartbeat, if he sought it out. But you hoped that if you were talking with him over the phone, then he wouldn't pay attention, and that he'd be distracted by the background fuzz of the call.

"Hey," you said, walking slowly down the sidewalk; you didn't want to be accused of leaving the earshot radius. "I just got a text from Foggy. He asked if I could bring that book I was telling him about the other day to dinner tomorrow night. Is it still on my dresser or did I return it to the library? I can't remember."

It was a clever lie, you thought. You had told Foggy about the book, and he did text you about bringing it to dinner. You did, however, specifically remember leaving the book on the dresser and not bringing it to the library the other day. It wasn't violating Rule Number One, either, because the question you asked Matt pertained directly to the lie.

There was a brief noise on the other end of the line as Matt presumably cocked his head, sweeping his senses out for a book on your dresser. In your head, you counted down the time. Ten... nine... eight... seven... six...

"The thick one?"

"Yeah."

Four... three... two...

"Lie," he said suddenly, and you could hear the smile on his face. "Nice try. Almost got me on that one."

"Crap," you said, sighing and adjusting your jacket as you picked up the pace, crossing the street after taking a quick glance left and right.

"If the lie hadn't been about a book, I wouldn't have thought to listen to your heart," he continued. "You care too much about your books to not know whether you've returned one to the library or not."

"Crap," you said again, but this time it was because the convenience store was closed; you'd have to go a couple blocks further to the larger supermarket. "Matt, I'm going to take a few minutes longer. The store's not open until nine."

Matt was quiet for a moment. "If that was a lie, that doesn't count. I can't hear your heartbeat from here."

"Nope. It's the truth. Anything else you want me to pick up while I'm at the grocery store? Ibuprofen, Advil, ice packs?"

Matt answered, but you didn't hear; an idea was formulating in your mind. "Sorry?" you said after a moment, picking up your pace as rain began to fall.

"Just more tea, I think."

"On it. See you in a bit," you said, and hung up.

Rule Number Four, you realized, was your ticket to winning. If you could get Matt to call you out on a lie when you weren't lying — and if you could get him to do it three times — you'd win.

So, the trick was to get your heart rate going at precisely the right moment. You left the grocery store with bread, tea, and a large espresso from the café next door.

And, miraculously, it worked. You walked in, your heart already feeling a bit more spry since you downed much, much more caffeine in the span of five minutes than you typically had over the course of an entire day, announced to Matt that the grocery store had been strangely busy today, and—

"Lie," he said, almost without even paying attention.

"Ha!" you said triumphantly, setting the bread down on the counter. "Wrong, Murdock!"

His brow furrowed. "What?" You could see him reaching out with his senses now, seeking what his mistake was, and...

"Espresso," he said, so quietly and forlornly that you laughed. "Damn. Your heart is racing."

"Brilliant, right? The grocery store really was packed." You waved the bread at him. "I'm starving. Can we make French toast with this?"

"Yeah. And don't get too happy yet, sweetheart. You haven't won yet."

"And there's the key word: yet," you reminded him.

Matt was on guard after that, so you waited the rest of the day before trying again; too often, and each effort would be futile. You could tell he was listening with far more diligence every time you spoke, and while it was slightly unnerving knowing that your heart rate was under constant scrutiny, it was worth it. Matt felt threatened that you would win. Even if you didn't end up winning the bet, that gave you enough pleasure to make the entire game worthwhile no matter what happened.

Step Two was getting Matt to watch a horror movie. You were a bit limited in your options, since Netflix didn't have many scary movies with audio descriptions available, but you agreed on one eventually and started it only once the sun had set.

And you waited. Waited, with Matt's arm wrapped around you, watching the movie and letting yourself get absorbed in it, because you were relying on your own natural adrenal responses to secure you the next false lie through Rule Number Four.

Fortunately, it was actually terrifying, so it didn't take much effort for you to feel a chill genuinely running up your spine.

"A door slowly creaks open," the audio description narrated. "The bathroom mirror suddenly swivels open. Standing in the reflection is a dark figure."

You physically jumped — thank you, jump scare — and seized the opportunity as your heart beat doubtlessly spiked. "Matt, I found some fan fiction that people posted online about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. And I read it. Every last bit."

Matt's confusion was so palpable that you had to bite back a laugh. He reached over for the remote and paused the movie, his head tilted. "This feels against the rules."

"And yet, it's not," you said, rubbing his arm. "So, was that a lie? Or not? I'll give you a solid ten seconds starting now to answer."

"You can't just say something insane at the very moment your heart rate jumps from a movie!"

"Tick, tock."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again — you'd make a good lawyer."

"Aw. Thank you. Five. Four. Three."

"Come on!"

"Two. One."

"Lie," he decided, his jaw tight. "And for your sake, I truly hope it's a lie, because there better not be people writing fan fiction about me—"

"Sadly, it's the truth, Matt. Both that people have written it and that... I've..." You trailed off at the look on Matt's face. "Uh, that I might've possibly glanced over some of it."

"Please tell me there's not much of it."

"Um... well, there's a fair amount. People are fascinated by real life vigilantes, I guess. If you wanted you could always sue them for defamation."

"Sue? Sue as Daredevil? Show up to court wearing the suit?"

"Better yet, hire Nelson and Murdock as your lawyers, and you can switch back and forth during the trial between your lawyer suit and Daredevil suit, playing both roles. It'd be hilarious, like a real-life Mrs. Doubtfire moment."

"You find all this so amusing, don't you?" Matt tipped you back, his hands against the back of the sofa and caging you in. Goosebumps pricked up your arms as you glanced at his forearms; he'd rolled up his sleeves, and you could see the toned muscle in the dim lighting.

"Not at all," you said, your voice a bit higher.

"Lie," he breathed out, and leaned in to kiss you.

The next day passed, with every hour sliding by and bringing you nearer to the end of the bet. Once again you didn't dare press your luck, and chose to instead act naturally. The following morning and midday passed without only one or two halfhearted attempts to lie. ("Matt, did you hear that Captain America is starting up his own jazz band and he's going to be doing a world tour?" "Yeah, I did, right after the news segment announcing Black Panther's new clothing line of lingerie that he's founded.")

The loophole of Rule Number Four, however, was proving to be no longer viable as your winning method. Matt caught on to every truth that was meant to make him accidentally call you out on lying. In desperation you even did fifty jumping jacks to raise your heart rate, to Matt's amusement, but he had somehow latched onto the subtle difference between a heart rate raised by the adrenaline of exertion as opposed to the adrenaline of a lie.

So — you'd have to brainstorm instead.

With only about an hour to go until the bet ended, you set your alarm on your phone to go off just three minutes shy of the actual forty-eight hour mark.

The only challenge now was making sure Matt didn't check his own watch between now and the alarm.

"Time's almost up," he said, with the audacity to smirk at you, catching your arm as you went by him towards the bedroom. "Where are you headed?"

"To get something presentable on for supper," you said, gesturing down at your outfit.

"Karen and Foggy wouldn't mind if you showed up wearing that."

"I love you, Matt, but I look like a clown right now. I wish you could see the color combinations I've got going on. Think blue raspberry slushie dumped on top of black raspberry ice cream."

"Well, if you're changing, then what should I wear?" he said, mockery edging his voice. "That plaid shirt you got me? A white top? Or a sweatshirt? Y'know, since I won't be wearing the Daredevil suit, of course."

"Don't speak too soon. We still have a few minutes left." The bet still had five minutes, in fact; but the alarm would go off on your phone in two minutes. On a sudden whim you wrapped your arms around him, loosely holding your hands together around his neck as though you were about to slow dance together. Matt's hands naturally went to your waist, fingers grazing your hip bones. "If, in the extremely unlikely case that I do lose, you should wear your loose-fitted button-down from your birthday last year."

"Is that too fancy?"

"I don't think so. I'll be wearing a sundress. It's casual enough."

Matt spun you around, backing you into the wall. His eyes were intense, unblinking. "I know you're trying to keep my attention off of you. It's not going to work. I know you too well."

"Maybe you know less about me than you think," you challenged him.

"I doubt it."

"You'd be surprised, Matt. I've got secrets and ways of keeping them."

"Want to play that game, love? Because I can play that game." He tilted up your chin with his left hand. "That mosquito bite on your neck is still itching you, even if you've resisted scratching at it. You've still got the taste of mint in the back of your throat from when you brushed your teeth a few hours ago." His hand left your chin and brushed at your temple. "You got dehydrated this morning and had a headache, but it's gone away now. And your blush is practically a heat lamp right now, getting hotter with every second."

"Point taken," you muttered, but Matt wasn't finished.

"Down here," he continued, his hand now trailing down to your lower arm, "there's a bit of residue from the jam you got on your forearm during breakfast."

"I washed it off!"

"And I can still smell it." Matt lightly let go of you. "I could continue, if you'd like."

And then — your phone buzzed out a loud jingle, jolting both of you simultaneously. You fumbled in your pocket for your phone, shutting off the alarm. "Shit."

"Time's up," Matt said, with far too much pleasure in his voice. "I'm looking forward to spending a day at the office with you. Maybe we go in on the weekend?"

"Saturday I'm free," you said, as casually as you could possibly muster. "On Sunday I'm visiting a friend."

Which was a complete lie.

And Matt...

Didn't notice.

"We'll go in early," he said. "I had to go in this weekend anyway to get work done."

"Mm," you said, counting down the ten seconds in your head. "And I'm assuming you wanted me to help organize the files so that you wouldn't have to go into the office alone this weekend? This was all a ploy to get some company?"

"Of course. What kind of weekend would it be if I didn't get to spend it with my favorite person?"

"Foggy will take offense to that."

"Well, maybe I'll invite him too. And Karen. We can have a whole work-weekend at Nelson and—"

"Yes!" you shouted, so loudly that Matt tensed, as though scanning the room for a threat. "Get your suit on, Matt!" Without waiting for his answer you strode to the closet and pulled out the familiar red suit and mask. "A certain swindled devil now needs to make his appearance at a certain dinner party tonight."

Matt's expression was baffled. "But I won."

"Check your watch."

His fingers immediately felt for his watch, and then his face dropped. "You set the alarm early."

"And then proceeded to successfully lie about visiting a friend on Sunday. Oh, I can't wait to see Karen and Foggy's reaction when you arrive on the fire escape, dressed to the vigilante nines—"

"I can't believe you."

"Me either," you admitted. "I was getting nervous towards the end."

"I can't believe you," Matt repeated. "You're going to pay, sweetheart. That was playing dirty."

"Enjoy your retribution sometime else," you told him, tossing the mask over. He caught it, plucking it from the air without turning his head in the slightest. "We've got a dinner party to go to."

And maybe you'd still go into the office that weekend to help him out, you decided, a bit of guilt still stirring inside you, because he did just want you to be there with him, keeping him company.

After all, having a lie detector for a boyfriend really wasn't so bad.

what if…… yall sent me nsfw headcanons of matt…… and i…… wrote them…….. haha………….

An update! (sorry about your trouble sleeping; it can be so awful)

"I'm fine." Oh Reader, any bestie knows that answer is unacceptable. Good thing Skyler is not buying it. Plus Skyler is ready to take out Chef Hottie Matt if necessary; I'm taking note of that in case we need her to kneecap Kelsie. Go stomp some grapes, Kelsie, maybe it will improve your mood.

"Can I get you anything? Water, coffee...tea...my hot and adorable colleague Skyler?" I like Reader and Skyler's tagteam matchmaking approach. This is good. I suspect that it will (unbeknownst to Reader and Matt) assist in the romance of Reader and Matt because Foggy and Skyler collaborating could result in Matt and Reader being in forced proximity to each other.

Pretty bold of Foggy to show up at the Bulletin, though. Tip of the hat to him, especially when he intimates to Reader that there's some uhm interest between her and Chef Cake Matt. That's a delicate situation but Foggy is way better at direct but tactful communication than Matt in a way, perhaps because Foggy is the interested bystander. Foggy understands Matt (similar to Skyler/Reader) and how past experiences influence present choices, as well as how we rationalize our responses to those situations. Foggy sees they are lovesick for each other but Matt is wary, Reader is wary and neither is being particularly honest with themselves (yes and no, they admit the attraction but not the relationship that accompanies it) or with each other, perhaps in the desperate hope that hearts will remain whole?

Hearts are meant to be used; it makes them stronger and full of life.

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 10

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love being idiots

Word Count: ~3200

A/N: Here we are with the next chapter! I have to prep for an important work event on Saturday that will more than likely cut into my writing time, so there may not be another update until next week, but until then enjoy our pining dumbasses!

(As always, thanks to the fantabulous @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

"Come on , you stupid thing," you grumbled at the Bulletin's ancient copier as it sputtered and creaked. "I know it's early, but work , damn you."

You weren't in the best mood this morning -- you hadn't slept well, your mind choosing to replay your almost-kiss with Matt from the previous evening every time you closed your eyes.

You looked over at the doorway as the sound of footsteps neared. "Oh, hey, there you are," Skyler said as she poked her head in the doorway. "You have a visitor."

Your heart leaped. "Who is it?"

Skyler sighed wistfully. "The future father of my children. He didn't give his name but he's a really hot blonde-haired dude."

Part of you wished that it had been Matt, but after the way you had run out on him the previous night you supposed that would've been too much to hope for. "Okay, thanks."

Skyler stepped fully into the copy room, her brow furrowing. "Hey, are you alright?"

You shrugged. "I'm fine."

Skyler crossed her arms. "No, you don't look happy. Did something happen with Chef Hottie last night? Because I don't care how many Michelin stars he has, I'll go kick his ass if I need to."

You huffed out a soft laugh and shook your head. "Not necessary. I'm just tired."

Skyler nodded and uncrossed her arms. "As long as you're okay."

"I am. Thanks for your concern, though. I really appreciate it."

Skyler gave you a quick hug. "Of course. You're my bestie, I'm not going to let anyone mess with you."

You gave her a hug back. "Ditto. I'll tell you all about last night as soon as I deal with whoever this is, 'kay?"

Skyler nodded, then winked. "You'd better." 

You followed her out of the copy room and into the bullpen, your eyebrows raising as you spotted your visitor. "Chef Nelson." 

Chef Nelson raised his hand in greeting. "Hi. Is this a bad time?"

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I was just fighting with our copy machine, but I can let someone else have a turn trying to battle it out. What can I do for you?"

Chef Nelson bit his lip. "Can we talk?"

You nodded. "Sure."

You turned towards Skyler. "By the way, Sky, this is Chef Nelson, Chef Murdock's business partner. Chef Nelson, this is Skyler. She's our Lifestyle writer here at the Bulletin ."

Skyler reached out to shake Chef Nelson's hand, a broad smile spreading across her face. "It's nice to meet you, Chef Nelson."

"Nice to meet you too," Chef Nelson replied with an equally broad smile. "And please, call me Foggy -- uh, both of you."

You smiled to yourself. You could practically see the cartoon hearts floating above both Foggy's and Skyler's heads. 

You nodded. "Sure."

You turned towards Skyler. "I'll be in the conference room. Foggy, you can follow me."

You led Foggy to the conference room, your heart twisting as you remembered doing the same thing with Matt not even a week earlier.

You closed the door and gestured to a chair. "Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee… tea?"

Foggy shook his head as he sat. "No, thank you."

You sat across from him. "So what can I help you with?"

Foggy took a deep breath. "I um, I just wanted to apologize for interrupting you and Matt last night. I had no idea that he, uh, had company at the restaurant and didn't mean to intrude."

You shook your head, your heart beginning to thrum nervously in your chest. "No, you weren't intruding. I was just there to taste some new recipes that Matt had said he was thinking about adding to the menu. We had already finished and were just talking when you came in."

Foggy huffed out a laugh. "Seemed like a pretty important conversation."

Your face heated. You weren't sure what exactly Matt had told Foggy about your evening together. "Nothing he and I couldn't talk about later."

You licked your lips nervously. "By the way, how, um, how is Matt this morning?" 

Foggy shook his head. "I don't know, I haven't talked to him yet today. We start prepping later on Tuesdays since Matt's always experimenting in the kitchen until really late on Mondays."

"Oh." You couldn't help but wonder if Matt had ever had anyone else over to the restaurant for a 'blind tasting'. "Okay."

Foggy studied you. "You know, I really do appreciate you giving him a second chance after you two started off on the wrong foot. Not that I'm trying to make excuses for him, but he's been through a lot in the past couple of years and is still dealing with some stuff."

You shook your head. "It's not a problem. And there's no need to apologize for last night, I promise."

"Thanks so much." Foggy stood. "I should get going -- I have a couple of errands to run before I head to the restaurant, but thanks for taking the time to talk with me."

You nodded. "Of course. Here, I'll walk you out."

You opened the door to the conference room and ushered Foggy out into the bullpen, stopping by Skyler's desk. "You know, I actually really do need to get back to my battle with the copier, so Sky, would you mind walking Foggy out?"

Skyler shook her head. "No, it'd be my pleasure."

"Thanks." You turned towards Foggy. "Thanks for dropping by."

Foggy nodded, his eyes firmly on Skyler. "Sure."

Skyler stood. "Right this way."

You shook your head with a smile as Skyler and Foggy headed towards the elevator. There was no denying the chemistry between those two and you would've been shocked if Skyler didn't come back with Foggy's phone number at the very least, if not a date.

You headed back to the copy room, determined to beat the copy machine at its own game.

You had finally gotten it to cooperate when Skyler came in, sighing happily.

You grinned over at her. "You're welcome."

She playfully shook her finger at you. "Girl, why didn't you tell me Chef Hottie's business partner was even hotter than him?"

You huffed out a laugh. "I only met Foggy one time before last night, which reminds me…" 

You grabbed your copies. "Come on, let's go get some coffee and I'll tell you about it."

You walked into the break room, pointedly ignoring Kelsie, who was talking to another one of your coworkers. 

"James surprised me with tickets to this very exclusive wine tasting event upstate  this weekend," she was saying. "Only the finest vintages will be served."

You rolled your eyes. You had never met Kelsie's boyfriend and knew absolutely nothing about him (nor did you care to), but you had certainly heard his name enough times to already be tired of hearing about him.

Kelsie sneered over at you. "Well, I guess I better go get started on my Restaurant Week coverage since someone stole the feature story from me."

You sighed to yourself as they left the break room, grabbing the bag of coffee you kept at work and filling the permanent filter pod for the office Keurig before popping it into the brewer.

" God , I can't stand her," Skyler muttered. "Anyway, tell me about last night."

You filled a cup with some water and poured it into the reservoir before placing the cup underneath the Keurig and setting it to brew. "Okay, well, Matt was waiting in the lobby to unlock the door for me when I got to Daredevil," you began. "I was supposed to watch him cook again, but instead he sat me down at a table near the kitchen then went to get some water and crackers."

You bit your lip. "After he came back he, um, he pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and asked me if it was okay if we did a blind tasting."

"He blindfolded you?" A small smirk appeared on Skyler's face. "Kinky."

You huffed out a laugh. "It wasn't like that! Matt just wanted me to be able to understand how he develops his flavors and have me judge a dish using my non-visual senses."

You shook your head. "Anyway, he brought out the first dish, which was a butternut squash risotto with pancetta that both smelled and tasted amazing ."

Skyler hummed. "Ooh, that does sound delicious."

You nodded. "It really was."

"So how was it trying to eat without being able to see your food?"

You huffed out a breath as your coffee finished brewing. "Honestly, it was really disorienting. Matt had to help me find my spoon for the risotto and since he had me eat a cracker and drink some water in between dishes so I wouldn't still be tasting what I had just eaten when he brought out the next dish I was terrified of spilling my water all over. Luckily I made it through without making a mess."

Skyler smiled softly at you as she took a turn at the Keurig. "Something tells me he would've been understanding even if you had accidentally spilled something."

You nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Anyway, the second dish wound up being a beet hummus, which I'm afraid to say was awful ."

You grinned at the memory. "Luckily Matt tasted it and agreed with me that it was terrible, that it was definitely a no for the menu."

You continued telling Skyler about the different dishes Matt had you try, including the pesto-parmesan linguine that you were still thinking about. "Finally he brought out this blood orange cremé bruleé that he had been working on and a blood orange mimosa to go with it, and oh my god, Sky, it was so damn good."

You took a sip of your coffee. "I made a joke about it replacing Matt's tiramisu as my favorite dessert and it actually turned out that he had also made some tiramisu and wanted me to try it since he had tweaked the recipe. He also said I could take the blindfold off then asked if I wanted some more champagne since he had opened a new bottle for the mimosa and there was no sense in letting it go flat."

Skyler took a sip of her own coffee. "I'm sure that wasn't the only reason, but go ahead."

"The tiramisu was even better than the first one he had made for me, so he said since it had my approval it was ready to go on the menu." You bit your lip, second-guessing whether you should tell Skyler about the rest of your evening. "I, um, I asked him to tell me when it was added to the menu so I could be there to order it as soon as they opened, and Matt joked that he'd have it ready for me when I arrived, so I asked if he'd bring it out to me personally and he said yes, that he'd make the time to come say hi… and then he asked me what I looked like."

Skyler's eyebrows raised. "He did?"

You nodded. "He said that he'd had a blank picture of me in his head all week so he had been curious then he said that he could picture people based on physical descriptions alone but could more accurately picture them if he felt their facial features, so after I described myself to him I told him he could feel my face if he wanted."

"And did he?"

Your face heated at the memory of Matt's fingertips softly gliding along your skin, his brow furrowed in concentration as he painted a mental picture of you. 

You nodded. "He said I was beautiful… then he leaned in to kiss me."

Skyler gasped. "You kissed him? "

You winced and quickly shook your head. "Right before we did Foggy came in from the kitchen and startled me, so I jumped back. He apologized for interrupting and I said that it was fine, that I needed to go anyway, and then I grabbed my stuff and practically ran out of there."

Skyler groaned out your name. "Girl. Why? "

"Because I'm an idiot, that's why." You sighed. "I panicked. "

"And that's why you couldn't sleep."

You nodded. "I kept replaying it in my head over and over, trying to imagine different scenarios and ways it could have turned out if Foggy hadn't shown up or if I hadn't bolted. That's actually why he came by -- to apologize again for interrupting me and Matt last night."

You bit your lip as a thought struck you. "He said that Matt had been through a lot in the past couple of years, so what if Kelsie is actually right? What if Matt is just pretending to like me so I'll write a positive article about him that'll help him rebuild his reputation?"

Skyler shook her head. "Do you even know what could have happened to where Matt would need to rebuild his reputation?"

You shook your head in response. "No."

"Then don't listen to Kelsie. I'm sure she's just making shit up."

"I hope so, because I really like him. I haven't felt this way about anyone in a really long time, Sky, so if it turns out he's been playing me this whole time…" You trailed off with a sigh.

"Hey, if he has been then that offer to kick his ass still stands." Skyler smiled at you. "No matter how hot his business partner is."

"Oh, shit, yeah." You shook your head to clear it. "How was walking Foggy out? You seemed pretty happy when you came back."

Skyler grinned. "Well, that's because I have a date Saturday morning. Foggy and I are going to go have coffee before he has to get to the restaurant."

You smiled. I knew it. "That's great. I'm really happy for you."

Skyler studied you. "So what are you going to do about Matt?"

You shook your head. "I'm just going to wait until my article is turned in and see how it goes."

You finished your coffee and rinsed your cup out. "I need to start going over these printouts."

Skyler gave you a brief hug. "Hey, I'm sure everything is going to be fine."

You nodded. "I hope so."

You really hoped so, because with the way you were starting to feel about Matt you weren't sure if you could handle a broken heart.

"Combine properly, damn it," Matt growled at the dough he was trying to prepare for the night's supply of dinner rolls. "Why aren't you cooperating?"

"Because you're being mean to it," Foggy said as he came into the kitchen. "Well, that or the fact that your yeast is still sitting over here on the prep counter."

Matt groaned then dumped the dough into the trash. "Shit ."

Foggy chuckled. "Good morning to you too, buddy."

Matt turned his head towards him as Foggy passed him to go wash his hands. "You went by the Bulletin this morning. I can smell newsprint on you."

Foggy hummed in the affirmative. "As a matter of fact, I did. And before you ask, yes, she looked just as miserable as you do."

Matt could feel his friend studying him. "I'm not miserable , I'm just tired. I got less sleep than usual."

"Are you ready to tell me what happened last night?"

Matt nodded. "Originally the plan was for her to come watch me work on developing those new dishes for the menu, but I decided to make it a blind tasting instead in order to try to make it a bit more… personal."

Foggy chuckled. "You mean romantic."

"Yeah, okay, romantic." Matt sighed as he began to re-make the dough for the rolls. "And it seemed like it was working, too -- she was responding positively to my hints that I'm attracted to her."

He shook his head. "Everything was going great -- she gave me some really good feedback on the dishes and was joking around with me about the cremé bruleé surpassing the tiramisu as her new favorite dessert of mine, so I asked her to taste the final recipe before she made that distinction.

"She loved it, of course, and said to let her know when we added it to the menu so she could be the first one in line to order it once we opened that day, so I told her that I'd have it ready for her when she arrived, and she asked if I'd bring it out to her personally and I said of course, that I'd definitely make the time to come say hi to her."

Foggy huffed out a laugh. "Wow, you two are not subtle."

Matt shook his head as he mixed all of the ingredients and began to knead the dough together. "It's been driving me crazy not having any sort of clue what she looks like, so I asked her. She seemed a bit surprised at the question, which honestly was understandable since I just kind of threw it at her out of nowhere, but I explained how I can "see" people by touching them, so after she described herself to me she offered to let me feel her facial features."

He smiled to himself as his mental picture of you floated into his mind. At least he managed to get that before everything went to shit. "I told her she was beautiful, and that's when I tried to kiss her."

"And when I walked in and ruined the moment."

Matt shook his head. "It's not your fault, really. Obviously I had misread something between us somewhere and trying to kiss her made her uncomfortable." 

He covered the (now correctly prepared) dough and put it in the refrigerator to rise. "I spent all night replaying everything in my head trying to figure out exactly where I screwed up. She's the most incredible woman to ever come into my life, Foggy, I don't know what I'd do if it turned out she was just using me like Elektra did."

"I honestly don't think she is, Matty, but speaking of meeting incredible women…" Foggy huffed out a happy sigh. "I'm pretty sure I met my future wife today."

Matt chuckled as he moved to the sink to wash and dry his hands. "Well at least one of us is sure. Who is she?"

"Her name is Skyler -- she's the Lifestyle writer at the Bulletin ."

Matt nodded. "Oh, yeah, I met her the other day. She seemed nice."

"We're going out for coffee on Saturday morning, so I might be a bit late getting here depending on how well things go."

Matt patted Foggy on the back. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks." Foggy paused. "So what are you going to do about everything?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't know yet. Probably just wait until the article comes out on Monday and go from there."

Foggy sighed. "Well no matter what you decide, I'm here for you, buddy."

"Thanks." Matt began dicing tomatoes for the marinara sauce, his mind drifting back to you by his side as you cut up tomatoes for the salads at Clinton Church.

He really hoped you weren't just using him, because he was pretty sure he was already falling for you.

okay okay, so like Matt Murdock comes home after a long night of legal work. to help him unwind you do everything for him. undress him, kiss him, blow him, ride him even. but you're teasing him the entire time, while you're on top he can't take the teasing anymore, flips you two over and just uses you to take out his stress 🥴🥵🥴🥵

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Pairings: Matt Murdock x (female) Reader

Summary: Matt’s had a long and stressful night at work, you decide to make him feel better

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex (m+f), cockwarming, the tiniest mention of injuries, minors DNI

A/N: ummm not me reading this ask whilst I was in the middle of dinner with my parents and nearly choking on my lasagne, Abby are you trying to kill me??😮‍💨🥵💀 Umm so yeah I just had to turn this into a full oneshot bc omfg yes this is so hot! Everyone say thank you @mothdruid for the idea😌 hope you all like this, it’s my first time properly writing for Matt!!✨🖤💫

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

You’re woken up by the sound of keys rattling in the front door. You hear a deep sigh as Matt crosses the threshold of your shared apartment. You hear him toss his keys aside before slamming the door shut harshly and heading into the living room. He slumps on the sofa, loosening and removing his tie, letting his head fall to the back of the sofa. You come sleepily padding out from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Matt’s shirts. Matt doesn’t even lift his head as you walk in.

“Hey” you greet him.

“Sorry,” he huffs, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You were used to him coming home at any hour of the morning, whether it be returning from work or from daredevil-ing around the city.

“It’s alright. You okay baby?” You ask as you move to sit next to him on the sofa.

Even from here you can feel the tension, the anger sitting in him, his muscles tensed and coiled despite his seemingly relaxed position. You reach an arm out to caress the back of his head, stroking his nape gently. He sighs again, but this time a little more contentedly as he revels in the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp lightly, his body relaxing the slightest bit.

“Just been a long night” he mumbles. “A long, infuriating, and stressful night.”

You hum an acknowledgment as you continue to play with his hair. You knew he’d only tell you as much as he wanted to so there was never any real reason to keep prodding him. So you decided the best thing you could do was just to provide comfort and help him relax. You move your hand from his scalp to his face, gently brushing over his cheek with your knuckles. You trace the bruise on his cheekbone from a few nights ago. Your fingers trail over his face, to his lips, outlining them gently.

You then trail down his neck, you fingers moving in a haphazard swirling motion over his skin. You trace the skin exposed at the top of his loosened dress shirt.

You then shift on the sofa, swinging a leg over until you’re straddling Matt’s lap. His hands immediately find their way to your hips.

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

“I’m just helping you relax a little” you shrug. “Helping get rid of some of that stress."

He just responds by squeezing your hips slightly, his thumb beginning to rub small circles on your hip bones. You reach up and gently take the red glasses from his face, carefully placing them aside. You then lean forwards and begin to cover every inch of Matt’s face with the softest of kisses. You kiss all over his forehead, his temples, his cheeks, his nose, your lips ghosting over his eyelids as they flutter shut. Your hands return to his hair as you comb your fingers through it softly, again scratching his scalp with your nails. He sighs, so quietly you almost miss it. You start to feel the tension in his body ease up slightly beneath your touch.

You continue to attack his face with kisses as you slide your hands down his neck, tucking in underneath the open collar of his shirt. Your hands glide over his collarbones before you reach the top button of his shirt. Your hands move swiftly but softly as you undo the buttons, opening his shirt. You rake your nails down his chest, a small groan. eliciting from him. He takes the opportunity to move his head so his lips are angled with yours, pushing them lightly against you. You kiss him back slowly. It’s a light and gentle kiss, your lips just barely brushing together.

But you don’t let him kiss you too long before you’re moving your lips back to kissing his skin again, this time moving to kiss along his jaw towards the skin beneath his ear. When you get to his pulse point, the point you know just makes him weak, you nip at the skin lightly, smoothing over your bite with your tongue. He groans again beneath you. You carry on kissing and nipping all over his neck as you push his open shirt and blazer off his shoulders. His arms leave your hips briefly as he manoeuvres himself out of his clothes, his hands quickly finding their way back to you, this time to push against your back, pulling you in closer to him.

He rubs up and down your back with his palms as you litter his skin with kisses. Your hips begin to rock ever so slightly against his. You can feel him getting semi-hard beneath you. Your hands are roaming all over his bare chest. A sharp inhale sounds from him as you brush over one of his most recent cuts just below his ribs on the left side.

“Oh shit, sorry” you whisper quickly whilst sitting up, your actions freezing whilst you assess if he’s okay. He just shakes his head, his grip on your back tightening again.

“No it’s okay, it’s fine” he reassures you, pulling you down towards him. His lips find yours again briefly. This kiss is more sure, still soft and slow, but not quite as gentle as before. Your hips start to grind into him again as he groans into your mouth.

Before long though you break the kiss again, this time to rid yourself of your, well his, shirt, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Your lips then return to their movement across his neck and collarbones. His hands find you again, roaming over your newly exposed skin, groping and squeezing at your breasts.

You sink lower, your lips ghosting across his chest, kissing along the scars that cover his pectoral muscles. You move your hips back, sliding yourself down and off his legs until you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him. You just keep kissing him, every single inch of his exposed torso making contact with your lips at one point or another. Your lips move across his chest, his stomach, kissing each ab as they flex with his ragged breathing. You kiss the lines on either side of his hips where they angle towards where you know he wanted you most.

You can see he’s fully hard now as his cock tents in his suit pants. You kiss just below his belly button and feel him rut his hips against you. You then spread his legs with your hands as they slide up his thighs. His head is thrown back again, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

You undo his belt, swiftly followed by his pants buckle. He lifts his hips as you tug his pants and boxers off him, freeing his hardened cock and leaving him completely naked on the sofa. You kiss his thighs as you move upwards now. You can hear a groan mixed with a sigh leave Matt when you finally place a kiss to the tip of his dick.

You swirl your tongue around his head, flicking your tongue into his slit. He hisses and pushes his hips up again. You oblige his silent request and finally take him into your mouth. You feel satisfied at the loud moan that sounds from him as you push your head down as far as you can on his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat. His body sinks into the sofa as you bob your head up and down, sucking as you go, your tongue flattening against the underside of his dick, swirling around the vein that runs along his length. His one hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it in a makeshift ponytail in his hand as he guides your mouth up and down his dick.

You take your hand and stroke the base of him, any part that you couldn’t fit into your mouth you pumped with your hand. You hum as you increase your pace, Matt groaning in response, the vibrations from your mouth rolling through his body deliciously. You enjoy the way his stomach is pulled taught with every ragged breath he takes, his hips jerking up into your mouth as he fucks your face softly.

“Fuck baby” he sighs. “Uhh, you feel so good” he whines, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

You can tell he’s getting close, his hips jerking more haphazardly, his fist tightening in your hair. You suck him a few more times before you pull your mouth off him, leaving him on the precipice of release.

“Fuck” he swears harshly as he releases your head, his fists pounding into the sofa on either side of him. “Why’d you stop?” He whines.

“Shhhh” is all you whisper as you stand to pull your own panties off. You begin to kiss your way back up his body, settling yourself back in his lap. His aching cock digs into your inner thigh as you pepper his face with kisses again.

“Shhh baby, I’m gonna take care of you” you murmur against his skin. You reach down between your bodies and grab his dick in your hand. You gently guide him towards your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. The two of sigh in sync as he finally sheaths himself inside you.

But you don’t move, not yet. You simply sit with him inside you as you kiss him over and over and over again, all over any and every inch of skin that you could reach. He whines beneath your touch, his hips writhing under yours, desperate for you to move. But you don’t, not for a while, you just keep him sat inside you. You slowly start to feel the anger and frustration bubble up inside him again, the muscles of his chest going taught, his jaw tightening.

And that’s when you finally decide to let him have his way. You begin to rock against him the tiniest bit, just the slightest of movements, enough to feel pleasure, but not enough for it to actually get either of you anywhere. You then move your lips to his ear.

“Use me, baby. Take out your stress on me” you purr.

You feel the muscles in his neck go taught as he attempts to restrain himself, his fingers digging roughly into the flesh of your thighs.

“No” he says shortly. “I don’t want to hurt you."

You shake your head, trailing kisses over his neck again.

“It’s okay Matt, you can use me. Take out your frustrations, it’s okay” you encourage him, nipping at his neck a bit harder. He groans again, his hands tensing on your hips with the effort of restraint.

“Come on, it’s okay” your lips trail up to his ear again. “Just use me. Fuck me, Matty” you whisper huskily, biting and pulling at his earlobe.

And that’s all it takes for him to lose the last of his resolve. His hands grip you painfully tight as he flips you over, pinning you to the sofa. He towers above you as he slots himself back inside you in one fluid motion. You cry out as he begins to set a ruthless pace, his body dwarfing you, his hips colliding with yours over and over harshly. His grunts are loud in your ear as he fucks himself into you, letting out all the anger and stress of the night as he loses himself in your tight cunt.

He pulls your one leg up, hooking it over his back, angling himself even deeper inside your cunt. You gasp at the sensation of the new angle, his cock hitting that sweet spot hidden inside you. Now it’s his turn to have his lips all over your neck and throat. His kisses are sloppy and rushed, a clash of his teeth and tongue on your skin. Your nails are raking down his back, leaving long red marks in their wake. His hisses at the sting of air that whips over your fresh scratches.

His pace quickens even further as he starts to feel your walls tightening around him, knowing your climax wasn’t far off. He shoves a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing you as you’re pushed over the edge into pure bliss. He covers your mouth with his own just in time to swallow the moans that escape you as you clench over his cock. Your moaning and whimpering is like music to his sensitive ears, aiding him in reaching his own climax. He shudders above you as his pace finally comes to jerky halt as he spills inside you. His mouth hangs open just above yours, your breathes mixing as you both revel in your highs.

Matt has the faintest of smiles on his lips as he collapses on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest, his cock softening slowly where it still sat inside you. The two of you lay like this for a while, a fine layer of sweat on your bodies, your breathing heavy. Your hands are playing over his skin again, tracing swirls and patterns over his back, his face, your hands running through his hair again. Neither one of you daren’t move, both of you relishing the sheer softness and intimacy of the moment. You smile to yourself as you feel his entire body relax, you knew it wouldn’t be long until he was asleep. And honestly you’d let him, you’d let him fall asleep here, on the sofa, still on top of you, still inside of you.

“You feel better now?” You murmur after another short while. He twists his head upwards, humming into your neck, kissing you softly.

“Much” he confirms.

Masterlist

A/N: if I made a taglist specifically for Matt would anyone want to be on it?? Let me know!🥰 also oops this was much longer than I intended it to be but oh well, I hope you guys liked it🖤💫

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(General) Taglist: @ratcatcher2world @rosie-posie08 @dreamcatcher121 @justifymyfeelings @bookfrog242 @hybrid-in-progress @captainrexstan @nikkitc0703 @dopeqff @thelightinmyshadows @stardust-galaxies @wannabevampire @minxsblog

Guys I literally wrote a Matt x reader!nun smut half asleep last night, I prob won’t post it I just needed to say that…😖