#matt murdock reader insert

[allllium]

Perfect for Me

~ Matt Murdock x insecure!reader

~ omg two posts in two days 😮 this is not edited at all so ignore my mistakes

~ Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, WC: 1,679

- Matt comforts insecure reader -

Dating a blind guy is very different from any other relationship you've had for very obvious reasons. Not only is it an adjustment going out with and even living with someone that can't see, but Matt is different. He has senses that other blind people don't which makes things even harder. You love Matt but that doesn't mean it's not an adjustment.

Obviously he can't see you but he knows everything about you. He knows the basics of how you look but not the details. Sometimes that's hard. Only because you fear he has some other idea of you in his head. Like the real you can't match up to the look of you he has in his head.

It's silly, you know, but it's not like you can just get rid of the thoughts in your head. Matt can tell something's wrong, a bonus of his super senses. So far though, he hasn't asked about it. He's learned over time to give you a little bit of time to process your issue before he tries to get involved.

It's not his fault, simply your insecurities getting the best of you. It'll be fine you tell yourself, wondering around the apartment you now share with Matt. Maybe that's where it's coming from. You guys have always spent a lot of time together but now your space is his, and when you want space to yourself, you don't have a separate apartment to hide in. You certainly don't want that but what if he does?

You turn on some music to fill your rattled brain. Nothing loud but enough to distract your thoughts. You soon turn from wondering to cleaning. It's become a daily habit since Matt rarely has time. You have no problem doing it because you know it makes Matt feel slightly better. Not as much dust and grime for his senses to focus on.

You're very ingrained in your scrubbing of the counter when you hear the door shut.

"Hey, Matty." You call out to greet him, not taking your attention off the counter for a second.

"Hi." His faces lights up as he sees you. "How was your day?" He asks, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"Not nearly as eventful as yours I imagine." You smile, turning around to meet his beaming face. He has already taken off his suit jacket while walking towards you and has began loosening his tie. Giving him that slightly casual look that you know and love.

"I actually think that's true today, though the most amusing part of it was hearing Foggy fall out of his chair not once but twice within a twenty minute period." You listen intently to his words as you finish wiping off the counter. His words get quieter as he slowly makes his way to the bedroom for more comfortable clothes.

You know Matt feels a great pressure to keep the city safe by going out every night, but your favorite night of the week is the one where you've both agreed he stays in. One of the few requests you had when moving in.

"How the hell did he manage that?" You chortle, imagining it in your head. You can hear Matt's laugh from the other room.

"I have no clue, you'd think he'd learn after the first time." He comes back into the living space wearing black sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. After you got together, you had to take Matt shopping for new, plain, clothes considering most of the ones he owned had something stupid and possibly embarrassing on them due to Foggy, bright colors and big slogans. "I heard him whine about it for the rest of the day."

"At least your days aren't boring like the other lawyers."

"That's definitely a plus of partnering with him."

This is the best part of your day. Talking to him about your days and gossiping about the people you know, plus all the people Matt hears about during the day. The only problem seems to be the words that won't leave your head.

"How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner?" You ask him as he grabs a water out of the fridge. Usually, he'd grab a beer but out of fear for his liver you haven't bought any in a week.

"Sounds perfect. How can I help?"

"I can do it, you worked all day."

"Worked is a loose term." He laughs to himself. You and he both know a lot of their work consists of finding new cases.

"You can boil the pasta if you want to be helpful."

"Oh that's easy. It's almost as if you don't believe in my culinary skills."

You turn and give him a stare that makes him smirk. "Matthew, I know what you lived on before I moved in."

"Okay water it is." He gives you get another kiss before searching for a suitable pot.

You hum along to the soft background music as you and Matt work on your tasks. Once he's done with his, he stands right beside you in silence.

"So." He starts.

"So?" You repeat.

"I didn't want to bring this up but I think it's important-"

"That sounds scary."

"For me, yes. I talked to Karen today."

Oh fuck. To say Karen knows your deepest darkest secrets would be an understatement. For Matt to start a conversation like this about her, she told him something. Something you're know wracking your brain to figure out.

It's not that you think Karen would sell you out. But Matt is very charming and sometimes you find yourself telling him things without even realizing.

"I would hope so." You try to play it off like you're not immensely worried about his coming words. "She is your secretary."

"I don't think she'd appreciate that title." He laughs nervously. You know he's nervous because his glasses are still on. He's trying to make sure you can't read him at the moment.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want it to seem like I was invading your privacy."

"Matt, you always do that. You hear literally everything I do."

"Yes but this feels different."

"You wouldn't have started this conversation if you didn't have something to say so please get on with it."

"I heard you talking to Karen the other day when she was over. And I tried not to read too much into it but then I talked to her today and I'm officially reading into it."

"Karen and I have talked about a lot of things, that doesn't really help me understand."

You try to seem nonchalant by stirring the pasta sauce.

"I heard you telling her how you don't think you live up the version of you I have in my head." He whispers the words as if that'll make it easier. Of course. Out of everything he could've heard, it was the one thing you really, really don't want to talk about. You know Matt isn't going to let this go until you answer all his questions.

"That was over a week ago." You whisper over the sauce.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I only heard a part of what you said and I couldn't handle not knowing the rest."

A heavy sigh escapes you. It's not his fault. You are still adjusting to how much he can hear from so far so you didn't even think about that when he came home that day. You also can't fault him for wanting to know more, if the roles were reversed you would've gone to Foggy to know more almost immediately.

"You obviously weren't supposed to hear that." You turn off the stove top and look at him. "I don't suppose we can keep acting like you know nothing about that?" Your words come out with a hopeful tone.

"No we can't. Sweetheart, how can you feel like that? Have I made you doubt yourself like this?" He pulls you away from the kitchen and pushes you to sit next to him on the couch.

"You have done nothing Matt. You're perfect. I just can't get it out of my mind that every time you're complimenting me, it's not actually me. It's the more beautiful version of me you have in your head." He already knows enough, might as well tell him the rest.

"I know what you look like. Maybe I can't see every detail but I know enough to know every compliment I've ever given you, has been for you. I can't see everything on your face but I can sort of see the shape of you."

You're just now realizing you've never actually asked Matt what he can see. Knowing he was blind you always figured he couldn't see anything.

"What do you see?" You ask now.

"It's difficult to explain. I see certain figures but not all the time. It's kinda like flames that prevent me from seeing things but they don't always stay in the same spot."

"So how are you so confident I'm the same that you think I am?" He moves closer to hold your hand and lean more against you.

"Because I've had everyone describe you. Foggy, Karen, even Frank at one point. And I've felt your face a lot, enough to understand the shape of everything. Your eyes, lips, nose. Everything that makes you, you."

"Feeling is different than seeing."

"For other people yes. For me, this is the only way I know a lot of things. It's the way I've learned to know things so I'm better at it. I don't need to see every detail when everything I've felt is beyond perfect."

You feel tears appear in your waterline. Leave it to Matt to know the perfect thing to say. Always.

"When I say you're perfect for me, I mean it. More than anything."

He wipes the tears off your face the second they begin to fall.

"You're perfect for me too, Matty."

"Good." He states. "You're gonna be with for the rest of forever."

"That's a nice plan."

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - 2

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fem! reader

masterlist

It was a little hard to stop thinking about Matthew Murdock over the next few days. 

Nevermind the fact he’d left hickeys all over your neck - it was the fact he was texting you every few hours with absolutely indescribable fantasies that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your blood would run cold every time your phone buzzed, just on the off chance that one of your friends, or god forbid your father, see your phone screen. It put you on edge in the best way. This entire thing was already beyond fucked up for more than one reason and yet, you wanted more. So much more. 

Can’t wait to taste you again. 

Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again. 

Hope you haven’t been thinking about anyone else. 

And it was funny, really, because Matt was a perfectly respectable man from the outside. Quiet, unassuming, a dry sense of humour - you never would have taken him of all people to be the one to make you feel so fucking alive. It wasn’t just how good he was in bed, but rather the thrill of it all. Nothing got your motor running like a situation’s potential to disappoint your father but hey. That was for your therapist to deal with. 

Of course, your father had asked several questions about where you’d disappeared too after the gala on Friday. He was more concerned about it had looked for him, and to have his daughter run out on a big charity event. Your mother had been less worried about that part, and more about her vintage Chanel suit. You’d settled both their worries by a) telling your father you’d had stomach problems (because who was gonna ask about that?) and b) promising to send the Chanel off to a dry cleaner. 

It was on a slow Monday afternoon - exactly three days after you’d met him - that Matt sent you a not so dirty text. It was so casual, in fact, that it caught you more off guard than any of the filth he’d sent you over the weekend. 

Wanna grab lunch? 

“Are you okay, honey?”

You blinked, eyes shooting up to your best friend. Okay, maybe not a best friend - those were hard to come by in high-society. She was your most tolerable friend. It had been her idea to get martinis for lunch. Your idea of fun wasn’t exactly sitting around with five rich girls and their daddy’s credit cards but it wasn’t like you had work to do, right? 

Part of you so badly wanted to tell them about the escapade over the weekend - about how much better an older guy was than all their ridiculous, frat-house boyfriends, and how good he’d made you feel. But did you trust them? Not with your damn life. And for risk of being cut out of your father’s will, you figured it was something to keep to yourself. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I gotta ditch. My dad needs me to get something from his office.”

Grabbing your jacket - a tan Chanel parka, naturally - you slid out of the booth and straight out of the restaurant. Matt’s number was dialed into your phone before you even hit the street. 

“Matthew, hi!” you greeted him. “I’m down for lunch.”

“Perfect,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Wanna come by my office?”

“Sure. Want me to grab takeout?”

“It’s okay. I already have lunch here.”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

–

The Nelson & Murdock office wasn’t too far from where you’d been. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly your stomping ground but your Uber had dropped you off right outside, and you had a taser in your bag. Not to mention the years of Krav Maga and karate that you’d done in high school and college. You could have been a damn vigilante if you wanted to. 

It was the shorter, Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock that saw you first. He seemed taken aback at first - maybe by your expensive appearance, but also maybe because every other person in the room was a middle-aged man there for free legal advice. By the looks of your Chanel bag and red-soled shoes, he figured you probably didn’t need any legal advice for free. Especially not from him. It seemed much more apparent that you had the likes of Jeri Hogarth in your pocket should you need any legal assistance. 

“Hello. Hi.” Foggy greeted you with wide eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” you turned around to face him, sticking out your hand. “You’re Nelson, right?”

“I am Nelson,” he replied, shocked look still not faltering. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of Matt’s,” you explained. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Speak of the devil. Your conversation was cut short by Murdock’s entrance. He looked hot in a suave sort of way; tie loosened around his neck, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. It was the first time you’d seen him since you’d left his apartment early on Saturday morning and frankly, you didn’t know how to act. Most of the men you slept with didn’t invite you to their offices for lunch - hell, most of them didn’t have offices. 

“Hey, Murdock,” you gave him a small wave.

“Hey - come in,” Matt shot you a grin, ushering over to his own office in the corner. 

It was neater than you’d thought it would be; there was a laptop perched on his desk, with a braille translator and a stack of legal files. They were probably the same legal files your dad had, just..the other side of the story. After all, Nelson and Murdock were known for looking out for the little guy. That was much more admirable than daddy dearest and his famously corrupt evidence. 

“Your shirt fits better today,” you commented, shrugging off your jacket. “That’s a real shame.”

“Is that a comment about my arms or the way I dress?”

“I think you know that it’s about your arms.”

You pushed aside the files, hopping up onto Matt’s desk. He had you caged in within a second, broad hands gripping your hips and guiding you up into a kiss. It was a little softer than the ones you’d shared on Friday night - there was less heat; a causal air to it. You didn’t think it was possible to miss the lips of a man you’d fucked exactly once. 

“So,” you murmured against him. “You said you had lunch here.”

“I do,” Matt gave you a shit-eating grin. “You.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. “Did you seriously invite me over here just for a fuck?”

“Not exactly!” he quickly replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I wanted to check in with you and see how you were.”

“Oh, okay,” you raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I’m not too bad. I was having lunch with some of my friends when you texted-”

Matt suddenly attached his lips to your neck, teeth gently nipping on the same mark he’d left a few days ago. You didn’t mean to let out a moan, but how could you not? 

“Matthew!” you exclaimed again. 

“No, go on!” he stopped for a second. “I’m listening. You were having lunch with your friends and…”

“And you texted and I was bored, so I left and - Jesus fucking Christ, that feels so good.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You left your friends to see me?”

“I would leave my dying Aunt Betty’s bedside to see you,” you said. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back towards you. “Enough catching up. I’m good to have lunch now.”

He gave you a grin and a few moments later, his hands found your way under your ass. Matt shoved aside the pile of legal papers and moved you further onto the desk, lips back on your neck and working a thousand times harder than they had before. Instinctively, you tangled a hand in his hair and just let him have at it. 

The build-up wasn’t as tense as it had been the first time you fucked, but that was because Matt knew you better now. He pretty much had you memorised; the ticklish spot on your neck, the most sensitive spot on your hips, the way you liked his nails to dig into your back just enough to hurt. That was just a testament to him. Who else would remember that? Who else would take the time to learn what you liked after just once? 

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” Matt paused for a second. “But my lunch break isn’t that long. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“You’re real cheap, Matthew Murdock,” you scowled. “Do you invite all girls over here for a fuck disguised as lunch and then rush them?”

“No, not all of them,” he shot back. “Some are more breakfast kinda gals-”

“- oh shut the fuck up.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back into a kiss. Matt couldn’t help but smile against you - at how badly you wanted him, how you chastised him but still didn’t stop him. 

It was in that moment that you thanked every deity there was that you’d chosen to wear a skirt that day. But frankly, you wouldn’t have given a fuck if Matt had ripped your Versace mini-skirt to shreds. He would have been okay with that too, especially if it meant you have to borrow a shirt of his to leave in. 

Still, Matthew Murdock was nothing if not respectable - at least enough so not to destroy your designer clothes. Instead, he simply pushed it up, large hands making their way to your ass cheeks and giving one of them a light slap. You froze when he did - how many clients were out there in the waiting room right now? Even with the blinds closed and the door shut, how many of them could hear what was going on? 

“Problem?” Matt paused. 

“There are people out there who could hear us-”

“- not with the air conditioning on. Foggy always has it going. Don’t worry.”

You scowled. “How do you know that?”

“Just do.”

Matt wasted no time in resuming his activities. Grabbing you by the hips again, he lifted you with ease and spun you around so that he was the one on the desk, and you were in his lap. The friction of his hard-on in his trousers against your core was almost unbearable and he could tell you were desperate by the way your grip on him suddenly tightened. 

“Look at you,” he grinned. There was something about the way his voice dropped four octaves every time he was about to fuck you. “You’re calling me sloppy but you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

You let out a small grumble, shaking your head. “I thought you didn’t have time to tease?”

“You’re lucky that I don’t have time to do a lot of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” he said. “Everyone out there would be able to hear me fucking you if I didn’t have to be back in twenty minutes.”

“Matthew,” you growled. “I don’t care how long you have - if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going somewhere else.”

“I didn’t think there would be many men around at this time willing.”

You let out a derivative snort, acrylic nails dragging down his neck and hand settling ever so gently on his throat. “You think I don’t have plenty of offers? You’re not the only man who can make me scream.”

It was almost like your words awakened something in Matt. In a flash, he’d pulled you off the desk and positioned you against it; there was the sound of his belt and a second later, his dick was inside you. Rock hard and beautiful, and the perfect length to have you clenching around him in mere fucking seconds. 

He wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, one hand tangling his fingers with yours on the desk and the other wrapped around your throat. You had complete and utter trust in him and maybe that was why you placed your own hand over his and encouraged him to squeeze harder. 

Matt’s movements were rapid and consistent: time was of the essence after all, and there was no way in hell he was going back to work until you came. 

It didn’t take much, to be honest. Not when you had his gruff voice muttering things in your ear. It was hard not to make noise then - Matt moved his hand from your throat accordingly, clutching it over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. What an ass. Not to mention that it only made you even fucking louder. 

“Do they make you feel this good?” he teased. “Do they?”

He managed to hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long before you felt that knot in your stomach. It was a plunge; like a plane falling out of the sky, anything that caused a sharp drop in your gut. The room was practically spinning around you as you came undone, red acrylics digging into the skin of Matt’s arm for some kind of relief. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” Matt murmured. He softened his pace, slowing down for a minute to revel in his own high. “Good girl.”

He released his hand from your mouth, chest heaving against your back for a minute as you both came down from your respective orgasms. A broad arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Matthew Murdock was a gentleman, even when he was rearranging your guts. 

You slowly turned around to face him, pulling him into another desperate kiss. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Matt softly asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” you ran a hand down his chest, faltering for a second. “Why? You gonna take me out for dinner?”

“Yeah, but an actual meal. It’s not a euphemism, I promise,” he gave you a grin. 

You returned the gesture for a minute, a wide smile on your face - but then it faltered. “Matthew, I would love for you to take me on a date, and I adore spending time with you but…”

“But what?”

“My dad,” you groaned, dropping your head into his shoulder. “If anyone catches me with you, I’m done for - as hot as that is.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my apartment and get take out? You can dress like a slob and no-one will see us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” your smile quickly returned. “But I am not dressing like a slob. I wear Chanel or I wear nothing.”

“I would much prefer it if you wore nothing.”

[strawwritesfic]

Matt Murdock x Reader: Introspection

Summary: A long day of soul-searching leads you right to the offices of Nelson & Murdock.

Rating/Tags: G (Gender of Reader Is Not Specified; Second Person POV; Lawyer!Reader; Secret Identity; Beginning of Romance; Not Canon Compliant)

Word Count: 2,110

Challenge: 160 Collective Drabbles

Prompt: Seductive

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: And now I have quadrupled my output from last year. Wow!

I actually work in a courtroom (I'm not an attorney), but I'm nowhere near New York. I did look up a few things to double-check legal stuff for the county this should be set in and whatnot. Still, if you happen to know I got a detail wrong, please let me know! I am always eager to learn and correct. Also, I've never seen anything beyond Daredevil season one, and it's been so long that the voice I had for Matt was based more on Samuel Brewer's performance in Terminal Degree.

Titling this one was a real pain. It's still not great. They've all been pretty bad lately, haven't they?

Ao3 Version Here

Introspection

Most of Hell's Kitchen was shrouded in darkness when you stepped out of your taxi in the wee hours of the morning. The businesses lining the streets loomed empty around you. Surely those living in the apartments nearby slept as best they could—though how, with the bass pounding from the still-hopping clubs a block or two over, you didn't know. Your driver must have heard those siren calls himself, because you barely had time to pay his fare before he sped away. You stood stranded in the island of light coming from the streetlamp above your head.

Well, what was the point in catching a ride all the way out here in the middle of the night only to chicken out when you got there? This would not be the first time you ate crow, nor did you suspect it would be last. You tried not to anticipate the taste too much as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to face the shadowed entrance to the offices of Nelson & Murdock.

You wavered for a moment with your arm outstretched, hand nearly grasping the bar across the door. Yes, it was dark inside. Not a single light on in the entire building as far as you could tell. And why should you think anyone would be here at 2:00 in the morning? Just because you'd been stuck at your office this late didn't mean the same for everyone else working the case.

No. No excuses. You'd just steeled your resolved to press forward when you heard a commotion above your head: the clang of something hitting metal, followed by rapid footsteps. You grabbed at once for the canister of pepper spray in your purse, but when you looked in the direction of the sound, you saw nothing that might have caused it.

Probably just a stray cat.

This time, you really did force yourself to push on the door. It opened easily. Damn. Now you had to go through with this, or at least check for signs of a break-in—not that you were likely to see any in the pitch-black you now stood in.

Your call of "Hello?" broke in two after its first syllable, interrupted by a series of thumps issuing from the ceiling.

What it was was absolutely too big to be a cat.

You should have called the police. Obviously! What could you do to stop someone with the balls to rob a defense attorney's office? Your pepper spray wouldn't do a thing to stop someone like that. But your feet took you up the stairs before you could reach for your cell phone instead. Somehow, someway, you managed to bound all the way up the incline without tripping on something in the unfamiliar territory.

There. The nearest door. You could hear beyond it. With as much force as you could muster, you slammed the door open. At least if you could startle the intruder, that would give you the chance to —

"Counselor. What an unexpected surprise."

—the chance to look like a complete buffoon. Matt Murdock sat at Matt Murdock's desk in Matt Murdock's office, looking entirely unruffled in the light coming from the window behind him. Well, maybe not entirely unruffled. It looked as though he had hat hair, although your jobs being what they were, you'd never actually seen him wear a hat.

You must have waited too long to speak, because Matt cocked his head slightly to one side and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Uh," you said, in a desperate bid for time. But the second it took you to say that didn't give you any grand ideas for answers. "I was in the neighborhood."

"This neighborhood? Really?"

How did this man always manage to sound so polite and so condescending at the same damn time? You stalked up to his desk and slammed your palms into its surface. Matt didn't even flinch. "Listen, Murdock. I was nearby, I heard something up here, and I rushed in to help at risk of my life. And this is the thanks I get?"

"I take it by your attitude that you were not 'nearby' to offer apologies for your earlier conduct," he observed in that same infuriatingly mild tone.

"What I was nearby for isn't the point!"

"On the contrary, Counselor. I think what you're doing breaking into my office when you didn't believe anyone would be here is the point."

"I—" You bristled, cutting yourself off as you realized Matt had you dead to rights. After your performance that morning, people weren't likely to believe you had good intentions being where you were when you were. You wouldn't believe it, had the roles been reversed. So you forced yourself to inhale slowly and step away from his desk.

"I only lied about why I was here. I did come to see you. But I didn't break in. The door was unlocked."

"And you decided to keep going even though all the lights were turned off."

"I told you I heard something up here!"

There was just something about Matt's demeanor that pushed all your buttons, and you weren't known for your even temper to begin with. Then it dawned on you:

"And you are here. Why are you here sitting in the dark?"

One corner of Matt's lips twitched up. "Well, it isn't as though I need a lamp. It keeps the bills down, which in turn keeps Foggy's blood pressure down."

"Do you often say here in a completely dark building so late after closing?"

"No. Our discussion today raised some questions for me. After all this time, I'd hate to see my client in chains over a technicality." He tapped on the thick, hard cover of a tome sitting closed in front of him. "And you're lucky I did tonight and that I have no plans to press charges."

"And if you did, I'd never try to prevent someone from stealing from you again."

"I'll be more careful to lock the door when I'm here alone late. At any rate, I'm afraid all you heard was my fumbling through my case files. I'm sorry for causing you concern."

"Are you sure? I swear I heard someone on the fire escape before I came in."

"Must have been a stray cat," he said as he moved to switch on his desk lamp. Doing so could only be for your benefit. You took the hint and collapsed into the chair across from him. God, even just talking to this man made you tired. "Not that I don't appreciate a purely social call from a person of your caliber, but I do have a lot of reading to do before I file in the morning. Why don't you just tell me what brought you here to begin with," he said.

Your hackles raised automatically. It took some willpower to lower them—willpower and a reminder that you'd already admitted to wanting to see him. The fight left you as you sighed.

"I came to say...I'm sorry," you said.

A long paused followed your statement. Matt appeared frozen in place. "Excuse me?"

A spark of frustration seared inside your chest, but you stifled it before it could grow. You'd spent most of the day consumed by that fire. Time to let it go.

"I'm sorry for my behavior in court this morning. The judge should have held me in contempt. I was out of line."

There was more, and Matt must have known that. He said nothing while you mentally prepared to continue.

"We've both been on this case for a long time. It's been my life for months now. And the suggestion we might be on the wrong track..."

"Stung?" Matt offered pleasantly.

"It's ludicrous! My investigator couldn't be that wrong. All my witnesses can't be lying. The evidence leads us directly to your client. But..."

Matt's eyebrows folded into one long line above the frames of his glasses. "But?"

"You were right," you said softly. "Maybe I've been living this too long. Maybe I want this to be over more than I want the truth."

It was a difficult thing to admit. The implications of doing so would have far-reaching consequences. But as long as you said it out loud, one of those consequences wouldn't have to be losing your soul in the slow-grinding wheels of justice.

"Thank you for saying that," Matt said, and oh no. You recognized that note in his voice. If you let him go on in it, you'd regret it. "I—"

"Which is why tomorrow I'm going to request to be withdrawn from the case."

"What?"

"It'll be better for everyone involved. We can get some fresh eyes on it, let someone new take a look."

"You getting taken off the case is the last thing I wanted."

"Why? It's not as though you've invoked your right to a speedy trial."

"You know the case. You know my client is innocent!"

"I don't know that, Matt!"

"But you admit it's a possibility."

Your hesitation to disagree answered for you. Matt half-rose from behind his desk, leaning across it to whisper, "Don't you want to know? Don't you want to find out why they've all been lying to you?"

You shook your head. "I think all I really want is to be done."

The unasked question of done with what? rang in the air. An unexpected lump in your throat made it impossible for you to speak. Then Matt opened a drawer, and the sudden noise of it made you jump in your seat.

"You know what we both need?" That strangely impish smile of his had returned.

"A straitjacket and a white room?"

"A break." He stood with his briefcase in his hand. "You said it yourself. We've been working this case a long time. A few hours of time to ourselves won't ruin it."

You nodded again as you dragged yourself up out of his chair. That was all you had the energy for. "I'll get out of your hair. I should probably try to get some sleep before I talk to my boss anyway."

A faint touch on your elbow kept you from moving very far. When you glanced back, you found Matt's hand grasping you there. "Come with me," he said.

Great. Now you'd been mulling things over so much you were hallucinating. You jab about the straitjackets sharpened into a nearing reality. In an effort to save the miniscule amount of dignity remaining to you, you laughed a little hysterically during your attempt to shake him off.

"I'm not going to your house with you, Murdock."

"You wound me, Counselor. What sort of cad do you take me for?"

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"The bars are still open for another or so. Let me buy you a drink. We can talk."

You recoiled far enough to get his arm to drop. "And what will people think of us out colluding in public?"

Matt shrugged. "We won't talk about the case, so we won't be colluding."

"We can claim that all we want. The judge will be concerned with what the witness thinks they saw."

"If someone accuses us of colluding, what's the big deal?" Here, he looked over his red lenses directly into your eyes; you felt goosebumps prickle up your arms at the feeling Matt could actually see you. "You're already talking about stepping back. I happen to know a defense firm that might be interested in someone of your talents if you get forced out."

He shifted his cane and his case to offer you his arm in silence, the obvious ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. You paused. His offer sounded good—better than it should have, considering all your bombastic meetings in court up until then. Then, before you could change your mind, you bent over to switch off Matt's lamp. Your arms hooked together, and his smile widened before he tugged you gently in the direction of the exit.

Matt Murdock was an infuriating man. Equal parts charm and sarcasm, you always found yourself thinking about him long after any hearing where you tried to tear each other apart. At the same time, you couldn't deny that he was honest and good, and, you thought, while you locked the door to the office behind you both with the key he passed to you, more than a little seductive when you got him alone. If things didn't work out with your boss later that morning, taking Matt up on his offer didn't seem like an awful idea after all.

[trulyunholy]

rendezvous

matt murdock x f!reader

rating: mature, minors DNI

tags & warnings: literally just porn with no plot, vaginal sex, semi-public sex (kinda); this isn’t too explicit but it’s definitely still 18+; more notes at bottom of post

word count: 2.2k

Cool air and the sound of city life floated in through the cracked window of the office. It was dark, all the lights in the office turned off, the only illumination coming from the streetlights outside. You knew it was impossible to be seen here, but you still felt exposed, skirt pulled up and resting on your waist, panties lying somewhere on the floor.

Matt sat in his office chair, still fully clothed. Perched on top of him, knees bracing his thighs, the feeling of his slacks on your bare legs, you craved nothing more than to feel his skin on yours. You’d asked him to let you undress him, just unbutton his shirt, even, but he denied you. He always did.

“It’s about you,” he’d purred in your ear, sounding breathless and ragged. “Wanna focus on feeling you.”

And he did. The warmth in your stomach made its way up to your chest and down to your core as his hands wandered lazily under your blouse, up your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck made your heart race.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned your shirt, and he took his time with them, the ache in your core growing with each loosened inch of fabric. His hair tickled your jaw as he planted hot kisses up and down your neck, as he pulled your blouse off down your arms.

A satisfied sigh fell from your lips as you leaned your head back, granting him more access to your bare skin. His mouth worked a path from your neck down to your chest, laying slow, lazy kisses on your collarbones, the dip in between them, down to your sternum, before finally running his tongue over your breast. The hot expanse of his tongue on the sensitive nipple brought another moan from deep in your chest.

But frustration burst inside you when he pulled back after only a few short, sweet seconds.

“Get up,” he told you. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t quite a suggestion either.

You did so without question, though, and also turned to face away from him when he told you to. His hands were back on you in an instant when he wrapped his arms around you and nudged you forward until your hips hit the edge of his desk. With a hand flat on your back, he gently pushed you forward until you were pressed against the desk, only your elbows and his arms around you keeping you upright.

“Matt-”

He shushed you. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was commanding in a way that made you want to do whatever he told you to do.

The hard wood of the desk was cold underneath the bare skin of your stomach, but it was smooth, firm, sturdy in a way you found comforting. Like you were always meant to be leaned over this man’s desk in complete undress at any time, day or night. You were absolutely willing to be, you were sure of that.

“Nobody else is here,” he reassured you, as if he could read your mind, read the worries in the tenseness of your muscles.

His hands were feather soft at your hips, and his fingers smooth as silk as he trailed two of them over the base of your spine. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and the whimper you made at the faintest touch was almost embarrassing. His left hand snaked around you while his right held his own weight on the desk. His mouth found your spine, and he softly kissed every bump on the way up to your neck. You could feel the heat of him pressing into you, and you were beginning to feel desperate in a way you’d never experienced before.

He was still fully clothed, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt against your bare back, but it was somehow the most sensual thing you’d ever felt. You were falling apart and he hadn’t even really touched you yet.

“Please, Matt-“ you tried again, but nearly jumped when his voice was right in your ear.

“Patience is a virtue,” he whispered, ruffling your hair with his breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity leaned over his desk and staying as still as you could while he admired you, his hand found your throat. He pressed lightly, just the slightest amount of pressure, but it sent your head spinning. You could hear rustling behind you, and you couldn’t help but be impressed with the dexterity he had as you heard the slide of his belt and the quiet zip of his pants.

The pressure left your throat and his fingers ran through your hair in a gesture far gentler than you were expecting. It was silent for just a moment and you felt your lungs begin to burn as you realized you were holding your breath.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

His voice was so soft behind you, so gentle, you could have easily lost it in the ambient noises coming in from the open window. You swallowed hard, a rush of nerves and excitement flooding your body.

You tried to speak clearly, to give him a clear “yes” or “of course” or “please,” but all you could manage was a ragged “uh-huh.”

Another second of anticipation built in your stomach. You didn’t know what was going on behind you, and you knew better than to peek or to ask. But then his hand trailed back down your spine and onto your stomach, sliding down, down, down, until his fingers found the wetness growing between your thighs. He gave a satisfied hum as his middle finger dipped lower, grazing over your clit and sending a shiver through your whole body.

“Mm,” he hummed again, and you could feel the heat of his skin on your ass as he pressed closer to you.

When he was as close to you as he could get, his grip on your thigh holding you close to him, he slid his finger inside of you. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. You felt filthy, having such a strong reaction to such a little touch. You felt him situate himself as he pulled his finger out, but you weren’t left empty for long. There was a pressure at your entrance as he pushed against you, a pleasant warmth that you felt yourself relaxing into.

And then you were seeing stars. With a single thrust he was skin to skin with you again, completely buried in your warmth.

“Oh, shit!” Breathless. Boneless. Suddenly nothing else in the world existed. “Fuck.”

Another moan, this time his, so close to your ear it made you jump.

“You okay?” he asked, his forehead leaned on your shoulder. As if he hadn’t just changed your entire life in one movement.

“Y-yes. Fuck!”

The slightest of movement from him and you whimpered again, the sheer feeling of Matt all the way inside you sending you closer to the edge.

“You feel so good,” he said, his voice low and ragged.

And holy shit, the thought of you having that effect on him- well it was almost too much to handle. When he pulled back out, the slow movement ripped another moan from your lips.

One of his hands reached around you again, this time cupping a breast, fingers running over the sensitive skin as he continued to thrust in, pull out, and repeat it all with a rhythm that had you shaking. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself climbing toward a climax.

“Shit, Matt, I-“ You wanted to fight it. You weren’t ready, didn’t want this to be over yet. “You’ve gotta stop or I’m gonna cum.”

“Good,” he answered, his voice nearly a growl, not letting up his pace at all. The sounds of skin on skin and the wetness between your legs were so loud and filthy you thought you might blush. “Give it to me, sweetheart.”

And you had no choice. You gave him everything you had to give. Your knees buckled and your elbows hit the desk, but you didn’t even notice over the stars shooting behind your eyes and the blood rushing through your body, from your heart to your ears, and it was all too much. The explosion was nothing short of euphoric.

And it had happened in a matter of minutes. Whenever you finally came back down, when you felt the sweat sticky on your skin, when you finally caught your breath, you opened your mouth. You weren’t sure what you were going to say, but you didn’t have a chance to say anything. Matt turned you around and captured your mouth with his again. His breathing was almost as heavy as yours,

In one unbelievably quick motion, he brought his office chair back behind him, sat down roughly, and pulled you closer until your shins were against him.

You gave yourself another moment to take him in, and he looked absolutely ruined. His face was flushed, he was breathing hard and fast, his face was needy, and my god, you had never been more attracted to him. He huffed, patted his hands on his thighs twice, and it was the only encouragement you needed.

More than eager, you joined him on the office chair again, knees straddled on thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. One of his hands went to the back of your head, so gentle as he led your forehead to his, eyes closed as he breathed fast. His other hand went to your hip, guiding you down at his pace. His face stayed close to yours, and you had a deliciously close view when his mouth fell open in pleasure as you fully seat yourself onto him. He groaned, a low, hot, ragged sound, and without thinking you buried your head into his neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin without regard as you worked your body up and down.

A sharp tug on your hair stopped you abruptly, but all he said was, “No marks, still have work,” and then released your hair, throwing his head back into the chair.

The effect you had on this man was absolutely intoxicating. You were on top of him, riding him, kissing him, absolutely ruining him. You felt like you had so much power, though you knew he was the one allowing you to feel that way. Before you knew it, your next orgasm was on you.

You wanted to warn him, but you couldn’t get the words out, too tied up in your pleasure. You only stuttered a string of “please” and “yes” and “oh my god”s. His arms wrapped around you quickly though, as if he was trying to get as close to you as possible, and one hand was in your hair again and the other was on your back, and he groaned so beautifully and then choked out your name and said, “Please.”

And that was it. You were done for. For the second time tonight, you were gone. Your whole body went tense as the pleasure building up inside you finally snapped and filled every fiber of your being. And through your own intense pleasure you barely heard his hoarse cry, but suddenly you were on the floor, on your knees in front of him, and you were still contracting and clenching as his hand wrapped around his cock and stroked once, twice, and then he came, too, a wet heat on your chest that you felt spread down your stomach and onto your thighs.

Your muscles finally relaxed as you came down from your second high, and it took everything you had not to slump to the floor in a heap of boneless pleasure. It was in a haze that you saw Matt lean over to his desk, slide open a drawer and pull something out. Then he was on his knees in front of you, wiping his mess off of you with a handful of tissues.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him say through your haze, and your eyelids were getting heavy and you couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing.

“What’s wrong? Was that-?” You tried to wrack your brain for what could have possibly gone wrong.

“No, no,” he said quickly, and then his arms were around you again and he gently laid you back onto the floor. “I should’ve asked before I…well, it just snuck up on me, but I should’ve-”

You finally realized what he was talking about, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t apologize. I liked it.”

He kissed you again before he laid back on the floor and wrapped his arms around you as you made yourself comfortable on his chest. You stayed like that for a while, both of you in a comfortable silence as the soft sounds of late night city life drifted in from the open window.

—

this is a first draft version of a scene that I cut out of no in-between, but I enjoyed writing it a lot so I thought I’d rework it a bit and share it. this is my first time really writing anything spicy/explicit, so I’m open to comments and constructive criticism. <3

[dameronology]

be still (matt murdock)

summary: matt is the only one who he'll let get close when he has a bad day

warnings: just language ig

sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months and not writing a single thing. this might be my comback, or all you will get for another year. we'll see! love u all.

To the rest of the world, Matt Murdock was hard to read.

To you, he was like your favourite book. One you’d read a thousand times; with a plot line you knew like the back of your hand. Every bump on his skin; every raised scar and jagged red wound from his night shifts; you knew the story behind them all. The long pink line on his back was fall out from a fight with the Yakuza two years back. The deep, sunken jag on his right hand was from an unfortunate incident when he was chopping up some vegetables two years ago. I might have super senses, he’d joked, but there are some things you just need sight for.

Matt’s emotions were no different. There were days when even Foggy wasn’t sure what he was thinking – whether his stony face was from boredom or anger, or whether his smile was happiness or just a slightly misshapen grimace. With a life as complicated as his, it wasn’t surprising that Matt came with the feeling to match. In the early days of your relationship, it was something you’d struggled with, but now you knew his signals and his tells. You could see a bad mood coming from a mile off, almost like a thunderstorm on a summer day. Equally, you knew his good moods from the way he would greet you brightly in the morning, or his anxious ones from the way he held your hand. They weren’t always easy to forecast but at least it made things a little more predictable.

A cold Tuesday morning in the fall was no different. September had just come, bringing with it shorter days and colder nights. The tension in your bedroom was high from the moment you woke up – actually, it had been since the small hours of the morning. Matt had come crashing in without a word, gear ditched to the floor. Any questions of his wellbeing or how his night had been ignored as he passed out beside you, back turned the other way. His snores had been the first thing you’d heard from him that night – not a single word, not even a grunt. You could feel an invisible line down the middle of the bed. It wasn’t one you wanted to cross.

You woke up naturally with the daylight- perks of it being a Sunday, you figured (though not a silver lining. Today didn’t feel like a day to be looking for those). Matt was still, tired body heaving with deep breaths as he slept. It was hard to shake the feeling of anxiety that had snuck its way into your stomach; butterflies now felt like wasps and any previous inclination you’d had to reach out to him had died with the hope of him waking up before you and apologising.

“Dickhead,” you muttered.

(You knew he would hear you).

Still, you knew something was up. Even if he’d projected it onto you by swatting your hands away last night and completely blanking you, something was up. It took a moment of building up the courage in your head, but as Matt let out a yawn and rolled over, you quickly moved to snuggle into his side. His hands were on his front, so you made a second attempt to tangle your fingers with his. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t resist either. You stayed like that for a moment, until his dark eyes shot open, and he let out a heavy sigh.

You could have pretended to still be asleep, purely just to avoid dealing with the situation, but who were you fooling? The man was like a human sonar. He would know immediately from your breathing that you were awake. Plus, your not-so-quiet insult just moments earlier didn’t exactly align with something you could brush off as sleep talk.

Matt sat up, blinking for a moment. Any other morning, he would have pulled you into him; pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you tight. Not today, though. He snatched his hand away from yours and shrugged you off, pattering across the wooden floor out the bedroom and to the bathroom. The door slammed and a second later, you heard the spattering of the shower.

You stayed there for a second, heart thumping in your chest and heard swirling with thoughts. Why was he being shitty? Was it your fault? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t fair on you to jump to those conclusions. If he had a problem, it was on him to tell you. You’d made it clear from day one that you hated guessing games. Guess Who was one thing but Guess Why I’m Angry At You had no winners.

The water eventually stopped. Rather than coming back through to the bedroom as he normally would, there was silence. You frowned for a moment – what the fuck was he doing? Was he actually that intent on avoiding you?

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, swinging your legs out of bed and heading out of the bedroom. Matt was the first thing you saw in the living room, skin still covered in droplets of water from the sofa, butt fuck naked. He had a file open in front of him, callous fingers following over the braille as he read it, barely pausing to acknowledge your presence. You could have made a comment about him getting your thousand-dollar sofa wet, even a joke, but that didn’t feel like the right play.

“Hey,” you said.

No answer.

“I have to ask,” you continued, crossing the room and taking a seat beside him. Not close enough for your legs to be touching, but close enough that he knew you were there. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m just tired.”

His voice was barely above a whisper – barely even there. Something was seriously wrong.

“Okay,” you hummed.

You stayed like that for a moment – even though you could predict Matt’s mood, you couldn’t always predict what he wanted. If you touched him, would he flinch, or would the front come down? It was like hugging a nuclear bomb, even if the idea of his temper coming out on you was unfathomable.

“Do you want a coffee?” you gently asked.

Another pause.

“Yeah. I could do with a coffee.”

Trying to keep your nerves feigned, you crossed the room to the kitchen, hands working automatically. Kettle filled, turned on, two mugs out. One sugar and a tiny bit of milk for Matt, and then two sugars and no milk for you. He liked the blue mug, because it was easier to hold, and you preferred the purple one because it was the same shade of violet as the dress Taylor wore on the front of Speak Now. You’d brought it in a clearance sale when you and Matt just started seeing each other, and it was one of the first things you actually kept at his apartment.

You returned to the sofa, placing the coffee on the table in front of you. There was still no word from Matthew – not even a hm in place of a thank you.

“You’re worrying me,” you murmured.

Blanked.

Rolling your eyes – and finally getting sick of his head – you whacked the file out his hands and collapsed into his side. He didn’t immediately respond, but a moment later, his hand came down to touch your thigh. He gave your leg a squeeze, and you felt a minute bit of tension rise from the room. Not all of it, but the physical touch was enough to know that things would be okay.

You stayed like that for a moment, before wrapping your arms around him completely. You fell back into the sofa, letting Matt collapse into your chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, skin sticking to yours from where he was still drying, but you didn’t give a shit. You just wanted to hold him, hands roaming over his tense back, stopping on his shoulder blades and using your grip to pull him closer.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you said. “Just for a little while.”

He didn’t resist as you took his hand, tangling your fingers together and leading him back to the bedroom. Matt was hot on your heels, like a lost puppy now, and there was barely a second between you falling back first onto the bed and him following you. His entire body was on yours, legs tangling into a web and arms digging underneath your torso to hug you, head buried in your shoulder. He was limp – almost completely void of emotion.

Whatever barrier Matt had been putting up was gone, because as soon as you tangled a hand in his hair you could feel his hot tears on your skin. He’d only cried in front of you once before and that had been when you’d nearly died after a minor mishap (though he’d argue it was probably more). That meant that whatever had happened on patrol last night must have fucked him up a little – you didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t want to him to think he couldn’t talk about it.

“I’m here if you need,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you just wanna lay here or you just wanna talk, I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” his voice was still quiet. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

You tightened your grip on him and he tried to shuffle closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. You were completely skin to skin and chest to chest, his forehead flush with your collarbone. It was raining outside now, the sound of water hitting the window filling the room with where tension used to be. That was gone now – maybe it hadn’t been there at all, just a figment of your anxiety.

You felt Matt’s eyelashes brush against your skin as he closed your eyes. Sleep was good. It was probably what you both needed, and with his warm, heavy body on yours, it was also hard to resist.

(All you could do was hope that you didn’t need to pee any time soon).

[thatboisus]

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

[chuulyssa]

being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald

[luffyssa]

when the fic is good but uses first person pov

[theshamelesssimp]

Having a bad day, read x reader! Having a good one, read x reader! Bored, read x reader!

All in all, live, laugh, love x reader!

[danysdaughter]

me when y/n has zero personality, can’t do anything for herself, exists solely for the guy, and is the human embodiment of “pick me”

alright babe… get your man ig 💀

[farfromstrange]

S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!

Read me on AO3

The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend. 

All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.

He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach. 

With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode. 

Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.

His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.

Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him. 

You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate. 

His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”

“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again. 

He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”

“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.

You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end. 

You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically. 

He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.

You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick. 

“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”

The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip. 

He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp. 

You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.

And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.

He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.

You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him. 

You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.

Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.

His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs. 

Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock. 

“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”

You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.

“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.” 

A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you. 

When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.

He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it. 

As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot. 

You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.

“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!”

“Come for me.”

The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you. 

You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you. 

“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.

You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.

“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace. 

Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him. 

It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.

When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough. 

He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely. 

Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off. 

He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.

Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down. 

“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur. 

He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”

“What time is it?”

You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.

“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact. 

“It’s not?”

“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[allllium]

Pinky Promise

~ This definitely ended up longer than I meant it to be but no regrets, Matt is so adorable in this.

~ Fluff, Angst but not really? More like play fighting. Reader is referred to as Matt's girlfriend but other than that gender neutral. WC: 1,939

~ Matt tells you he's Daredevil

  You have been filled with anxiety all day after a text from Matt. This morning he asked you to come to his apartment as soon as you could after work. He wouldn't say anything else about it, just that it was very important. 

  Matt has a habit of not believing he deserves good things. Throughout your relationship, you have done everything in your power to prove him wrong. But still, when he says he needs to talk to you, about something really important, your mind falls to the worst-case scenario. 

  “Matty, I'm here.” You announce as you walk into your boyfriend's apartment. 

  “Oh hey, sweetheart.” He greets you at the door, as he always does. He is the perfect gentleman. 

  “Hi.” You let out, trying not to let your anxiety be too obvious. “What did you want to talk about?” 

  He opens his mouth to say something before immediately shutting it again. “I ordered some food. It should be here anytime.” 

  “Is there a reason you're trying to change the subject?” He grabs your hands and leads you over to the couch. Sitting down, he pulls you down onto his lap. 

  “No, I'm just letting you know. I know how you get about your food.” 

  “Mhm. And is that the only reason?” 

  “I have to tell you something.” Oh no. You know what this is about. This day had to come eventually.

  “Okay, what is it?” You let out a soft sigh. It wasn't hard to figure out once you got together.

  “I don't want you to be mad at me.” 

  “Matt I won't get mad, I promise.” 

  “How do you know?” His eyes show you how worried he is. 

  “Because I love you.” You grab his hand and lean into him more. “And unless you're about to tell me that you cheated, I won't be mad.” 

  “What! I would never!” 

  “I know, baby. It was just an example.” You almost laugh at the surprised expression that covers his face. 

  “Well, you know how I became blind.” He begins.

  You were right, he's about to tell you he's Daredevil. Yes, you already know. For two reasons. One, a blind man can't do everything he does, the way he caught you when you fell on one of your dates, or the way he knows where things are without being told. Two, Foggy. He didn't mean to tell you but you had your suspicions and you may have tricked Foggy into secretly confirming for you.

  Foggy has no idea what he said allowed you to know the truth and you never told him so he wouldn't feel bad about accidentally exposing his best friend's secret. You're not proud of it but your curiosity got the best of you.

  “Yeah, I do.” 

  “Uhh, it did more than make me lose my sight.” You weren't able to confirm anything about the accident but if Matt is Daredevil then something had to have happened for it to be possible. 

  “What else did it do?” 

  “It heightened all of my other senses.” You squeeze his hand to encourage him to continue. “I can hear things from very far away and smell things better than normal.” No shit. 

  “How much better?” As much as you already know, there are a lot of specifics you still don't understand. 

  “I can smell what you have eaten all day, I can hear your heart beating and I can tell when you're making a face.” That's a lot more than you thought. “I can hear everyone in this building and mostly tell what they're doing.” 

  You immediately scramble off his lap. 

  “Did I weird you out?” The lace of sadness in his voice breaks your heart.

  “No it's not you, I'm just weirdly aware of myself now.” You assure him. You don't know how to describe it like you're going over everything you did in the day to try and figure out what Matt can tell.

  “You don't have to be, sweetheart. You're not the weird one here.” 

  “Matt, you're not weird. You're perfect. You can't control what happened to you or what it caused these senses. I don't know. You can smell me and hear me? It's just a lot.” 

  “That's not even the part I'm trying to tell you.” 

  “Matt, I have to be honest with you. I know.” You whisper. 

  “You know?” He asks in shock. “Know what?” 

  “That you're Daredevil.” Your voice grows even quieter.

  “What? How?” He exclaims, standing up to meet you. 

  “I don't know. One day I was just thinking and kinda put it together!”

  “When?” His voice booms around the small apartment.

  “A few months ago. There was this clip of Daredevil on the news and he looked so familiar so I started thinking about the injuries you get, how you disappear at night, how you can catch me when I fall. It became really obvious and then..” You stop your rant, not wanting to expose Foggy. Even though he had no idea what the conversation was about, you still feel terrible.

  “And then?” 

  “I may have tricked Foggy into confirming it for me.” Matt’s face quickly shows anger and disbelief. “I swear he has no idea I know anything, he didn't mean to confirm anything.” 

  “Why didn't you just ask me?” Is he serious right now? 

  “Because you never would've told me! We've been together for almost a year now and you're just now trusting me with this! I'm the one that gets to be pissed right now, not you!” 

  “Okay you're right I should have told you but I was just scared that..” 

  “No.” You hold your hand out and interrupt him. “I swear Matt, if the next thing you say is that you were protecting me, I will beat your ass.” 

  “That was one of the reasons, yes.” You step forward, fully intent on keeping your word. “Let me explain.” He smiles and pushes you away. 

  “Fine but it better be good.” You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows to show how serious you are. 

  “I wasn't just worried about your safety, I was worried that you would feel different about me. Maybe even leave me.” 

  “Matt, I love you. And I know you doubt yourself but I would never leave you for that. You could kill a million people and I wouldn't leave you.” 

  He gives you a very concerned look. “That's not good, we need to talk about that.” 

  “Eh.” You wave him off. “We need to talk about all this shit,” You move your hands over his body. “All this self-deprecating shit you do.” 

  “Oh well, I'm so sorry for believing you deserve the world.” He says as sarcastically as possible.

  “Exactly. Think more like that.” You nod.

  “I'm not gonna do that.” 

  “We are getting off topic.”

  “Is there more to talk about?” You can tell he's worried about you knowing the details.

  “We are one month away from our first anniversary and you're just telling me this now, that's not okay Matthew!” 

  “I know! I didn't want to wait this long but the more I thought about telling you the more I thought about losing you and I can't handle that.”

  “Wait so why did you want to tell me today? Are you okay with losing me today?” You half-joke.

  “No, because Karen told me if I didn't she would, and I know you should hear this from me.” 

  “Yeah you're right but this needed to happen forever ago!” 

  “I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, sweetheart, I know I should've. But out of curiosity, when would've been the best time to tell you?” He asks sincerely, sitting back on the couch. 

  “Why? Want advice for your next girlfriend?” You can't help but tease. Sitting back down on his lap. 

  “I'm never gonna have another girlfriend.” 

  “Oh yeah? And you're sure about that?” 

  “What does that mean?” He asks in fake concern, used to your teasing antics. 

  “I don't know. What do you think it means?” 

  “This isn't funny.” He says while he laughs. “I can't tell if you're mad at me or me.” 

  “Oh, I'm very mad.” 

  “About me being Daredevil?” 

  “No, Matty about you keeping it from me. What you do for people in danger is amazing. I love that you use your senses selflessly. I mean I hate the fact that you get hurt in the process but clearly, you can handle yourself.”

  “You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that.” 

  “I'm glad I could help. But seriously the next time you keep a secret like this for that long, we're over.” You make eye contact with him as you say this, needing him to know you're not joking. 

  “I promise I won't.” 

  “Good! Now onto that not having a next girlfriend thing?” 

  “Ugh, do we have to?” He leans back, making you yelp as you fall into him. 

  “Yes, we have to. I want to hear you say it.” 

  “It means I want to marry you.” You giggle at his words. 

  “I knew it, you're obsessed with me.” 

  “Does that mean you want to marry me too?” He asks hopefully. You almost feel bad for your next words. 

  “Hmm. I'll tell you next year.” 

  He runs his hands over his face. “You are not funny.” He says that but you can see the smile he's hiding. 

  Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Perfect timing. “You keep a secret, I keep a secret.” You shrug and head to answer the door. 

  When you go back to the couch and set the food on the coffee table, Matt pulls you into him once again. 

  “Someone's touchy today.” 

  “Just happy you're not trying to beat my ass.”

  “I would win.” 

  “Oh definitely.” You feel him smile on your neck. “Are you gonna make me wait another year to propose?” 

  “Sorry baby but you know I don't marry someone before the second year.” 

  “You're killing me y'know.” He groans loudly in your ear, making you lean away from his ticklish breath. 

  “Maybe your next girlfriend will marry you before the first anniversary.” You yelp again as he pulls you even further into him, using his strength to make sure you're as close as possible.

  “Sweetheart you are the last girlfriend I'll ever have.”

  “Oh, I know I am.” 

  “Oh god, what does that mean?” 

  “It means if you ever have another girlfriend I'll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

  “Haunt me? Are you dead in this scenario?” He asks in obvious confusion.

  “Yes because I'm never gonna let you leave me.”

  “I'm beginning to think you're a little crazy.” 

  “Crazy about you.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

  “That was terrible.” 

  “That was amazing, I'm a great flirt.”

  “Yes, you are.” He chuckles, in that amazing deep voice. “I'm sorry for not telling you sooner.” 

  “I'm sorry for not asking you directly and using Foggy.” 

  He holds his hand out to you, sticking out his pinky.

  “What's this?” 

  “A pinky promise.” 

  “Oh, a pinky promise with the devil.”

  “Stop that, I promise not to lie to you again and you promise to ask me things instead of tricking poor Foggy.” 

  “Okay fine. Pinky promise.” You link your finger with him. 

  “I love you.” 

  “Aww thank you.” You laugh at his surprised expression. 

  “Say it back.” He whines.

  “I don't wanna.” You can't hide the smile on your face. 

  Matt takes a second to stop himself from smiling before making the biggest, most dramatic frown. 

  “Fine, I love you too.” You break out in giggles as he tackles you.

[fixforthesoul]

OPEN LETTER TO FANFICTION WRITERS ON ACCESSIBILITY; PLEASE READ.

first of all, thank you for spending your time, seldom acknowledged and definitely deserving of a compensation you are not receiving, to entertain us. i’m speaking on behalf of more than just blind readers, but everyone. you’re sick as hell.

i’ve summoned you to provide some information you may not already know. i know a lot of you like fonts. especially those who cross post their work on wattpad. i admire any and all acts of aestheticism to a degree, and can understand the desire to use them. (blind folk, sorry y’all. momma’s making a point.) 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰, it’s cute. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 is a little cuter to me, if i had to choose. or maybe 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈?

now, sighted folk: if you’re on mobile, i implore you to participate in a little exercise for me. select this text and scroll through all the copy/paste/define/‘search the web’ options until you get to the speak portion. if you need to change a setting for your phone to do so, would you mind? i’d really appreciate it.

please make your phone read aloud part of my post, and be sure to include any bits with those super cute fonts. 𝕚’𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖. 𝕚 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕤 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖.

whether you participated and discovered it for yourself or you thought this was a crock of shit you’d rather not sniff, i’ll tell you! screen readers cannot dictate words using those fonts. at least, on a majority of devices. not mine, or any of my mutuals elsewhere.

you do not have to change your behavior on my behalf, but please be aware that fonts limit access to your work.

blind readers do exist, i exist, and i am bound by the same feelings of dogged longing that make other sad horny bitches read angsty, smutty, father-wounded nonsense.

thanks for making it this far. i really hope my sincerity is being conveyed, reading makes me so happy and i’m not the only person on this app who relies on accessibility settings more often than not. do with this information what you will, and have the day you deserve!

[petertingle-yipyip]

COINCIDENCE - MATT MURDOCK

//it was intended as a rewrite but is just a part three i guess, idk there was a lot of discussions so peer pressure. plus the original request wanted a happy ending so i did that!!// pt1 // pt2

Pairing: Matt x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 2,083

Summary: The problem never ended, just hid. The most painful solution is acknowledged but Matt refuses to stand idly by.

The rest of the day was a blur. Matt only stayed for one hour and left. Your other classes complained that they didn’t get a special guest speaker, and while you wanted to explain it to them so they weren’t upset, something wasn’t sitting right in your stomach.

You were still upset with Matt. The idea of Elektra being in your shared apartment made you feel like the other woman, even though you were the wife. You wanted to burn down the building, throw Matt’s things into the dumpster, knock Elektra’s perfect teeth in, punch Stick in the nose. You were still so angry.

The reconciliation was supposed to be enough. That’s what your mother had always told you about marriage. Nothing was too big for you two to get over if you loved each other. Sometimes someone had to swallow their pride and forgive a fight before you lost the other. But why were you letting him off the hook without knowing that he’d do anything you asked? And what was to keep Elektra from making moves on him?

Once your kids were finally out and dismissal was done, you dropped back into your work chair. The photo was still face down, and maybe that was the indiciation you really needed that nothing was really settled.

You picked up your phone.

“Foggy Nelson.” Foggy answered.

“Hey, Fog… Did Matt make it back?” You asked, filing assignments into folders and sliding them into your bag to grade later.

“No, he said there was something he needed to take care of before you got home. Why?”

“Can I come by the office then? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure? Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You sighed. “I thought it would be a ‘sweep under the rug’ instance but it’s just… not.”

“Okay, yeah, come on by. You want me to have some food delivered?”

“You’d be a lifesaver if you did.”

“Pizza will be ready when you get here.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You ended the call and finished packing up your classroom. By the time you were done, nothing made any more sense than it did before. You were frustrated walking to your car because talking about things was supposed to help.

But you and Matt hadn’t really talked about it, had you?

You told him how to resolve the physical part of the issue. Get Elektra out of your apartment and finish whatever mission he was on as Daredevil. The latter you only added because you knew he wouldn’t leave well enough alone, stubborn bastard. But it didn’t get to the heart of the issue.

Just answer the question!

Elektra!

The understanding settled in your stomach like a rock. Despite your marriage, despite everything she had done to Matt, he said her name. He knew you were in the next room. He knew you had been restless, unable to sleep without him beside you. He knew there were nights you had stayed awake until you heard him come in just to know he didn’t die out there. He knew you would’ve dropped everything if he had called you from an alley and needed your help to get home. But maybe, all of that, he’d still do for her.

You walked into the building, smiled politely to Karen, and walked into Foggy’s office. He smiled widely and brandished the still steaming pizza. You closed the door behind you.

“I think I need a divorce.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you’?” He replied, setting the pizza down. You almost laughed. “What’s going on?”

You sat at the table and he sat across from you. You spoke quickly, giving every detail you thought relevant. He listened quietly, probably comparing it to what Matt had told him about the situation. When you finished, he sighed heavily.

“I thought it’d be enough to just hear him say he didn’t mean it.” You sniffled. At some point during your story, you began crying. “But I can’t stop thinking. Is she friends with his friends? Does he think about her? Is she less controlling? Easy-going? Well-traveled? Well read? God, she makes me so upset!”

“Okay, let’s slow down a little.” Foggy offered.

“She’s beautiful.” You laughed bitterly. “And he loved her. She’s been on the other side of his bed.”

“They haven’t even talked before whatever came up.”

“I know it’s crazy, but I can’t stop thinking that he’s been thinking of her when he’s talking about me.”

He was quiet for a minute, taking it all in. You took the time to eat some of your pizza. So many thoughts were running through your mind.

Did you want the divorce? Did you need the divorce? Would Matt agree or would he drag it out in court? Would you be about to convince Foggy to help with your side or would he remain loyal to his friend? Whose side would Karen take? How long with Elektra wait before stepping in?

The questions were so loud you didn’t even realize Matt had shown up. Your eyes went wide when he sat beside you, then you immediately turned your glare towards Foggy. Your friend put his hands up in surrender and offered a nervous smile. When your stare didn’t lighten, he ducked out of the room.

“Y/N…” Matt began and your heated gaze turned on your husband. “I thought-“

“You know, it’s a real coincidence.” You cut in sharply. “Without her even being here - Well without me knowing she was here - she was back in your life. It was like she just knew. Now her name comes up once, comes up twice, comes up every goddamn minute since I saw her.”

“You know I don’t feel that way about her.” He insisted.

“But she’s in the same damn city every damn night. And wow, what a coincidence that you’ve lost all your common sense now, huh?”

“Seriously?” Matt scoffed and you crossed your arms. “I’m the one that’s lost it?”

“Last week, we were perfectly fine. We were normal. Now, it’s like you’ve been holding space for her in your life, and now she’s right there to fill it.”

“There’s no space! It’s only you!”

“Is it?” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s not someone trying to turn the past into the present tense?”

“No!”

“If she wasn’t here, would you be going after the Yakuza?”

His mouth opened then shut. He clearly thought better of whatever his initial answer was going to be, so he took a moment to decide on a better answer. “Not immediately, I don’t think so.”

“I’m surprised she’s not trying to suck up to ask your friends.”

“Y/N, sweetheart-“

“Don’t sweetheart me, Matthew.” You said sharply, maybe sharper than intended. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.” He defended.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. You told me the truth, minus seven percent. Which just so happened to be the important seven percent.”

“This isn’t about Elektra.” He shook his head.

“It’s about you, you fucking idiot! She’s the girl you outgrew. That’s what you told me! Isn’t that what you told me?”

He nodded quietly.

“Then what the fuck was that when Stick got you to say her name?” You screamed.

There it was. Your admittance to what truly started it all. When he had said it, your heart sank. It fell into a hole so deep in your chest, you still didn’t feel it beat in your chest. You went through your day as normal as you could, but everything in your body felt numb. You felt hollow and you thought you could blame it on Elektra’s general presence.

But you were wrong. When it came down to it, when it was just you and Matt locked in a room, the truth came out. It wasn’t completely Elektra’s fault.

It was Matt’s.

“What was that, Matt?” You asked quietly, hot anger shifting to betrayal.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I want to say that I was just caught up in the moment.”

“You were defending our marriage two seconds before.” You scoffed. “You don’t have to lie to the woman that loves you. I can do that myself.”

“I never meant for this to happen.”

“That doesn’t change that it did. That doesn’t change that you hurt me, Matthew. Why can’t you admit to that?”

He reached for you, to feel your body whether it be your leg or your arm. Without thinking, you scooted your chair back. He froze immediately and his brows furrowed behind his glasses. You tensed in your seat when you realized.

You had never shied away from Matt’s touch before. You never avoided him.

“So you meant it…” Matt said quietly. You didn’t need his super senses to hear the heartbreak. “You want a divorce.”

“You said you’d pick Elektra.” You confessed quietly. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I’ve already picked, Y/N.” He leaned forward in his chair. It was as close as he dared to get to you. “I know what I said. I know that you heard it and I know that it broke your heart. If I could take it back and just think about that goddamn question, I would.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He couldn’t answer.

“Hell’s Kitchen is nice, but who do you really want by your side?” You pressed. “And when you and Elektra inevitably break up again, would it be a coincidence then too? Would it be worth it?”

“I can’t lose you.” He nearly whispered.

“I’m going to stay at a hotel for a little while.” You decided. “I won’t draw up divorce papers just yet, but I am considering it… Call me when you can actually have this conversation with me.”

“Y/N..”

“No, Matt, just don’t. I love you so much, but I… I can’t just pretend this will go away. I thought when we talked earlier it was enough, and I was able to forget for a little while. But once the kids were gone… Fuck, it hurts. I’m so confused.”

“I’m not.” He looked at you hopefully. “I love you, Y/N. I want you. I would marry you again and again. I choose you, always.”

“Not always… What might be the only time it truly mattered, you chose Elektra. I get the whole notion of having soft spots for first loves, and I know Elektra was different for you. I accepted that when I fell for you. But look at what she’s done, what she’s put you in the middle of.”

“I chose to get involved.”

“Yeah… And it might’ve cost our marriage.” You stood. “Was it worth it?”

“No.”

“Good. Sit with that regret for a little while. When you can stand in front of Stick, with Elektra in full health, and honestly tell him you pick me, you can come find me.”

“I’ll do it right now.” He stood quickly and took a step to block your path to the door. “I care about Elektra, but not the way I need you. Please…”

“What am I supposed to do, Matt, just let it go?”

“No… Please, just give me a chance.”

“I am, but I need to think and so do you.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“And I need you to need me, just me.”

“I do.”

You smiled slightly to yourself, thinking for a brief moment of your wedding. You knew it’d be a lot of rebuilding to get your marriage back to what it was, and it wouldn’t really start until Elektra was gone. You didn’t know her true motives with Matt but you could take a guess. Regardless, he was trying to convince you and you so badly wanted to believe him.

So you took the chance.

“I’ll be at the Presidential for the rest of the week. Figure it out, Matt, or I’ll do it for you.”

You didn’t return to your shared apartment until that Sunday. When you did, Matt was waiting for you. No sign of Elektra’s presence was a relief. No sign of Stick either.

Rather, your favorite flowers were on the coffee table, the newest book from your favorite author and a stuffed animal were beside them.

You stared at them in appreciation.

You didn’t believe everything was back to normal, but Matt was showing you that he was going to try and fix it. He was fighting for your marriage, so you would too.

[trulyunholy]

a northern wind

daredevil x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.5k

notes: this is only my second daredevil/matt murdock fic, and this one was intended to be a one-shot but i’m kind of obsessed with the idea of it. it came from my unhinged obsession with the black suit and i’m not sorry.

The acrid smell of cigarettes lingered outside, wafting out the propped open door of the bar. Sounds of drunk laughter and clacking billiard balls could still be heard as you took in a deep breath of the fresh, cool autumn air. You pulled your jacket closer to your body against the slight chill of the wind.

“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Laura called to you as she stood halfway out the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you told her over your shoulder. “Just have fun and be safe, okay?”

“You stay safe, too! And text me as soon as you’re home,” she added before she stepped back through the doorway and out of sight.

One drink. That’s what the two of you had met up for at the beginning of the night. But then Laura ran into some of her friends from work, and one drink turned into several, followed up by rounds of shots.

You enjoyed the company, always enjoyed the chance to get out of your own head for a bit. But you had work early in the morning, and staying out until sunrise was not on your agenda. So you decided to walk home. It wasn’t a far walk, and it wasn’t terribly cold.

The smell of smoke finally cleared the farther you got from the bar, taken over by the smells of the city. Gasoline from the street, fresh bread from a nearby bakery, and the faintest smell of garbage somewhere in the background of it all. You loved this city, loved the closeness of everything and the ability to hide yourself among so many people.

The wind bit at your face, which was still feeling warm from the alcohol. The only sound above the monotonous bustling of every night was the surprisingly steady footfall of your boots on the sidewalk.

A different sound caught your attention several minutes into your walk, though. It was a distant sound, like feet shuffling quickly and men talking loudly. Your hand, shoved into your coat pocket, wrapped tightly around the small container of pepper spray, the one you kept with you anytime you were out by yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe here, it’s just that you never wanted to take a chance.

Your grip grew tighter the closer the noise got. Then you saw them, a group of men ahead of you, running in your direction. The panic in your chest was short lived, though, as soon as you realized they weren’t running at you. They were running away, from something or someone that was chasing them.

The men scuffled and nearly fell over each other trying to escape whatever was pursuing them. You stopped, frozen in place, unsure of whether to watch the action unfold or to run away yourself. But as soon as the group came across an alleyway about one hundred feet ahead of you, they turned into it sharply, out of sight.

A flash of movement followed, nothing more than a dark blur in your watery vision. You couldn’t make out any shape or feature, and your drunkenness did you no favors. The sounds of a fight came from the other side of the building in front of you, grunting and hits landing on flesh.

You knew you should’ve run. You should have turned around and left and gone as far in the opposite direction as you could. But you didn’t. You were curious. The alcohol had impaired your judgment far more than you first thought. The men, who seemed to have posed no threat to you anyway, had all run off by the time you rounded the corner into the alleyway.

Only one person remained, leaning on the brick wall of the building and nearly doubled over, catching their breath.

You’d heard the stories of vigilantes taking over the city, or superhuman strength and mystical powers. There wasn’t a person you knew who hadn’t heard them. But you weren’t sure you believed any of it. Tales of invincibility and magic seemed too far-fetched.

But in Hell’s Kitchen, the local watchdog felt more believable. Nothing more than a man who dressed in black and beat the shit out of criminals that the justice system couldn’t catch. It still sounded like fiction, but it was at least in the realm of reality.

Now, though. Now you were sure the stories were true. A man in all black, breathing hard after chasing some group of ne’er-do-wells. Maybe the stories were true.

“Holy shit.”

Your voice seemed to startle him, and his stance changed, tensed and taut like a cat that was cornered and ready to flee.

“Wait!” you called out to him, voice admittedly a little too loud.

You weren’t sure why you asked him to wait. He had no reason to listen to you. But you were fascinated, hypnotized by this mystery man, this myth come to life.

To your surprise, he did stop. The air was as tense as it was harsh, beating on the exposed skin of your face. A heavy weight began to build in your chest as you realized you had no idea what to say, what to do.

“Are you…?”

What the hell were you going to ask? ‘Are you that superhero guy I keep hearing stories about?’ ‘Do you really run around town all night and just fight crime like it’s your job?’ ‘Who are you under that mask?’

Everything sounded ridiculous in your head. You were fumbling over your own thoughts, trying to think of something, anything to say to keep him there. Why, you weren’t sure.

Giving up on any question you could have formed, you took a step toward him instead. He reacted fast, poised like a threatened animal, ready to flee or to pounce, you weren’t sure which. But looking him over, taking his n his body underneath the black, his sharp jaw below the mask, you weren’t sure which you were about to do, either.

“Are you real?” you asked, cursing yourself immediately for the clumsiness of your words, the slight slur in your voice.

He smirked, though, his lips twitching up into the faintest of a smug smile you could barely see in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“Well, this isn’t a dream, if that’s what you’re asking,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth as velvet.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you replied, fighting through the haze of inebriation. “Though I don’t think this scenario would be classified as a dream.”

“A nightmare, then,” he added easily.

As you took another cautious step closer, you saw his body relax a little, his muscles loosen from the tension of fight or flight.

“Yeah, a nightmare, then,” you said teasingly, though you couldn’t hide the curiosity there, too.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of what you’d just seen or the one-too-many shots you’d had at the bar, but you felt bold, bolder than you had any right to feel. You kept walking toward him until he was an arm’s length away. He didn’t move an inch, still as a statue, his head cocked in a way that made you think he was curious, too. When you stopped, you looked him up and down, admiring the glisten in the exposed skin of his throat.

“My kind of nightmare, too,” you said. “Or maybe it is a dream.”

His expression was hard to read with his eyes hidden from view, but the way his tongue shot over his lips, the way his lips began to form a bold grin, you could make a pretty good guess.

“You dream about this kind of thing often?” he asked, his voice somehow lower now. His tone was teasing, testing, lofty. “Of approaching strange men in dark alleyways?”

“Only the cute ones.” Your heart was beating hard in your chest now, and you could feel a heat rise to your face, rush through your body. “Or the heroes.”

“So which am I?” he asked, his tone daring you to answer.

“You tell me.”

Face warm against the chill, body tensed and stomach tight, you closed the space between you with one final step. But the moment you reached a hand toward him, unsure of what you were even going to do, his hand on your wrist in a heartbeat, scaring you half to death.

“Don’t.” His voice was demanding now, his grip strong against you, and his velvet dark voice sent sparks through your veins.

“Okay,” you conceded quickly, though his words did nothing to deter you. “A man with a secret. What do you have to hide?”

Your question wasn’t accusatory. You weren’t demanding any information. Somehow you knew he wouldn’t give it to you even if you were. His grip on your wrist did not loosen, and his mouth fell into a tense line.

After a moment, silence broken only by the sound of your breathing, he let go. As soon as he did, your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers tracing his collarbone jutting out from under the slick black fabric of his shirt. A heavy breath escaped him at your touch, as if he could feel the heat inside of you escaping through your fingertips.

“I don’t have to see you to kiss you, do I?”

He remained still as your fingers trailed across his chest, up, up, up, until they found a place on the back of his neck. His skin was hot and almost sticky, and you could feel the softness of hair peeking out from underneath his mask. He had no response, the smug attitude from only moments before disappearing as he swallowed hard.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked as you leaned in closer to him, your voice barely above a whisper.

A long, silent moment slips between the two of you as you wait for his response, your fingers digging into the back of his neck with the slightest hint of pressure.

When he finally answered, his voice was almost lost behind the pounding of your own heart in your ears. But the hot puff of breath and the movement of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

“Yes.”

Another beat, another silent second before you broke the tension and kissed him. His lips were unmoving underneath yours, still, unsure. But when you closed the space between your bodies, too, thighs against thighs, chest against chest, he relaxed into your touch.

Muscle and skin was warm underneath your touch as your hand slid down to his shoulders. Fingernails dug through fabric into skin, and his reaction to the slight pressure seemed huge. His arms were around you quickly, one hand finding a place on your lower back. He straightened himself, and when he pushed away from the wall and into you, you nearly had to stretch to reach him. And you decided you would do whatever you had to do to reach him again, to chase after the head-spinning high of a simple kiss.

Heat rose in the pit of your stomach, your heart taking too much space in your chest with just how fast it was beating. When he kissed you again, it was different, it was something hotter and hurried. His lips parted, and you took the opportunity to explore, to lick and to taste and to take. When he did the same, and you felt the wet warmth of his tongue, you couldn’t resist nip him. It wasn’t a bite, not really, and certainly not enough to hurt. But he pulled back anyway, his mouth settling into a sort of frown. Surprise, you think.

“Sorry,” you offered, intonation like a question.

But then his smirk was back, lips tilted into a devilish smile that sent chills down your spine. Before you knew it, your back was against the brick and he was pinning you there, hands on your hips, digging into the wall. You tried to find his face with your hand, desperate to touch him again, but he stopped you again.

“Relax,” you told him, breathless. “I’m not interested in unmasking you.”

After only a short moment of consideration he let go, and his hand found your hair instead. His palm cradled the back of your head, fingers twined through your hair as if he’s holding you there, as if he’s making sure you don’t get away.

You didn’t want to get away.

“What are you interested in?” he asked as he leaned in close, his breath hot on your face despite the visible cloud that forms in the night air.

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

Your eyes flicked back to his lips, then to the black of the mask over his eyes, only inches away. You wondered how he saw through that thing, considering you couldn’t see his eyes at all. But in the moment, you didn’t care. Not while his hands were back on you, his body pressing yours into the rough brick, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

A little too roughly, his lips crashed back into yours, the fingers in your hair pulling as they tensed. A short moan escaped your lips at the feeling, and he nearly growled his approval at the sound, a rumbling that sounded like it was coming from deep in his chest, something primal and feral and full of need.

Suddenly you decided that you needed more of him, that you had to have as much of him as close to you as possible. Your hands snaked around his body, roaming down his back before grabbing his ass and pushing yourself even closer to his. Something hard dug into the softness of your belly, but you didn’t stop to figure out what it was.

It almost hurt, the way he kissed you so hard you felt like there would be no air left in your lungs, the way he wouldn’t let you break away for air. When you did try, he pushed you back into the wall, his hand on your head cushioning it from the brick. And he held you there, his lips never letting up, lips and tongue and teeth all melding together into one warm, wet sensation. You’d never been kissed like that before. You had a feeling you might never be kissed like that again.

Anonymous hookups in bar bathrooms wasn’t foreign to you, but this, this felt different. There was a fire burning bright and hot in your stomach, seeping heat out of your every pore. There was a passion, a desire behind the man’s every movement that was hard to describe. He could take you right here in this alleyway and you knew you wouldn’t feel a bit of shame afterwards.

His hands moved from your head to the back of your neck, and you nearly gulped in the cool night air as his fingers traced feather soft trails down the fabric of your coat. He leaned down and kissed you again, but it was softer, slower, with no less heat behind it than before. It was just a different heat, a simmer instead of a boil. But it was just as hot.

He pushed your coat open and had his fingers in your waist in the same motion. His hand felt cold through the fabric of your top, but the goosebumps erupting across your skin had nothing to do with the cold. His teeth caught your lower lip and he bit just hard enough to sting, and the noise you made was closer to a whimper than a moan. You were already falling apart, and you should have been embarrassed. But you weren’t. Somehow it only spurred you on more.

His hand found your hips and his nimble fingers immediately pushed up your shirt. You nearly flinched when he made contact with your bare skin, but you didn’t mind, and he didn’t stop. You were hot, you couldn’t breathe, and you had never been so turned on in your life.

Rough fingers on exposed skin, touch light and fast and he mapped you out. You had no idea what you were doing, making out with a total stranger in an alleyway in the middle of the night. Was it the alcohol, the adrenaline, the fact that this man in the black suit risked his life to save people and bring justice to a city that so desperately needed it, and just so happened to look damn good while doing it? Not even an hour before, you were doubting the validity of vigilantes in the city. Now, you were eager to repay the hero for the risks he took nightly.

You were finally able to catch your breath as his mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, and he started a trail down your neck, kissing and licking and biting in turns. Rough stubble tickled your skin as you closed your eyes, desperate to focus on nothing but the sensation of his mouth as he found a spot at the base of your neck that had you squirming underneath him. You were getting so worked up, so desperate, you could feel the heat growing in your stomach and the desire building between your legs.

Mouth still at the pulse point on your throat, his hand finally rested at the waist of your pants, fingers testing the fabric, dipping underneath and tugging carefully. Throwing your head back wantonly, a sting of pain rang through your head, but it barely even registered. Everything you were feeling was becoming too much, and you couldn’t help but moan again, this time louder and without regard for anything else around you. You heard the man chuckle into your skin, a dark sound that you were sure came from the way he was pleased to be tearing you apart.

Your eyes still closed, your hands felt wildly for any purchase they could, landing on the expanse of his back. When his fingers moved on your waistband, and you could feel his fingers lingering by the button of your pants, your breathing was hard, your heart was beating so fast it hurt, and your fingernails dug into him hard. It wasn’t intentional, but when he let out a low moan so beautiful it shot straight to your core, you knew you had to do it again. So you did, scratching lines down his shoulder blade and into his spine. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you could feel hot breath on your skin. You felt delirious.

Then your phone rang. It was so piercingly loud in the quiet of the alleyway that you nearly screamed, startled. The stranger jumped, immediately putting space between the two of you.

“Shit!” you cursed, trying to remember which pocket you’d stuffed your phone into before leaving the bar. When you finally found it two rings later, you cursed again at the lit up screen. It was Laura. “I’m sorry, I gotta take this,” you told the stranger without taking your eyes off the screen.

When you answered, your ears were immediately hit with the quick, loud voice of your friend, demanding to know where you were and why you hadn’t texted her yet. You sighed, wanted to roll your eyes, frustrated at her even though she didn’t know what she had just interrupted.

Laura was still going on about something, her words almost slurred to the point of incoherence, when you turned to address the stranger. What the hell you planned on saying to him, you weren’t sure. But when you turned around, he was gone. You were alone in the alley and he was nowhere to be seen. No evidence that he had ever been there in the first place, save your open coat and mussed hair.

You didn’t know what you expected. You sighed and told Laura that you’d call her back as soon as you got home. You were only a couple of minutes away from your apartment anyway. As you hung up and shoved the phone back in your pocket, you wrapped your coat around you again, smoothed down your hair, and headed back to the sidewalk. Your boots hit the pavement hard as you walked, but you could barely hear them over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You weren’t sure whether to feel disappointed or excited or incredibly turned on. In truth, you felt a mixture of the three churning uncomfortably in your stomach.

You kept your eyes up as you took the last few blocks home, looking around in an inane hope that you might catch sight of him again.

Part of you hoped that he’d find you again, that you could finish what you started. If all the stories were true, you knew he was still out there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he watched you as you walked home, if he watched you as you got to the door of your apartment building. The brass doorknob was cold in your hand as you hesitated to turn it, looking around one last time. Nothing but lamp posts and telephone poles and the darkness beyond it all. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on your back when you finally opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the building.

——

this hasn’t been proofread by anybody but me, so sorry for any errors or inconsistencies. comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

find it on ao3 here!

[dameronology]

moment's passed (matt murdock)

summary: based on say don't go by t.swift (x)

warnings: excessive use of the f-word. angst.

this is one of the from the vault songs that just fucking HITS me. i have been crying to this since it came out tbh. i hope you enjoy xx

-jazz

You had Matt Murdock.

Until you didn't.

Things had been sweet at first; he was a weathered lawyer who needed some light in his life. Somebody to come home to; somebody to properly love for the first time in his fucking life. It wasn't like the high he was chasing with Eletkra Natchios, or the familiarity he'd sought out with Karen Page. He got both things from your relationship, but you were...different. You gave him highs; you could make him feel like he was home and on a rollercoaster all at once. It was a feeling Matthew wanted to keep for the rest of his life. He would have been stupid not to. But wasn't that the thing about Matt? He was incredibly smart, but also incredibly fucking stupid. Almost bound to take someone for granted. He'd done it with Foggy, hadn't he? 

Five years. That was how long you made it before cracks began to appear in your foundations. You'd loved Matt for his Daredevil side at first; maybe he could go too far, but he'd always known when to stop (right?) and you admired him for it. For his bravery, for his candor, for the way he protected the city. It was like a dark and sexy secret that you prided yourself on keeping. It tied you together. You were part of it now. You were the person that Matt could come to about his darkest fears and worst nights. You were the person whose side he would curl up into during the night, craving someone to protect him for once. There was always the worry that he would go into deep and truly lose himself, but every time Matt found himself on the precipice of doing so, you would be there to hold him back - to keep him sane and to stop him letting Matt Murdock and Daredevil blur into one person. 

You were only a human being, though. So was he. Matt could save the city and everything in it but you couldn't save him from himself. Save him from coming home at 6AM - your agreement had always been 3AM at the latest - and sliding into bed beside you without a word, or save him from waking up in a bad mood and refusing to talk to you about it. No matter how many times you begged him to just spend one night in, or to not leave himself three hours to sleep before work. It all fell on empty ears and that hurt when he had fucking super hearing. Comforting cuddles at night turned into whispered touches and soon, those touches became backs turned to one another. Long conversations turned into polite niceties than eventually faded into silence. The happy relationship - breakfast together in the morning at the table and takeouts on the sofa at night - became a burden. A horse you were both flogging because staying together in silence was slightly less terrifying than whatever the alternative that left you alone was. Soon, you were the only one flogging said horse. Matt had dropped his stick a long time ago and turned away. He'd walked into the depths of Hell's Kitchen and you weren't sure he was ever coming back. 

This wasn't your fault. Maybe it wasn't his fault either but hell it was his burden to bear. You'd done nothing but love and support him and what did you get in return? Silence. Iciness. Long, tense moments of forced conversations. 

You got used to it eventually. Every night, he'd come stumbling in at 4,5,6AM, skin littered with bruises and wounds; some from that night and others reopened. Matt's skin was thick with scars now. They were forming a new Daredevil suit across his arms and legs and back and there was no taking it off. It was always there. Always a reminder. 

Matt was laying with his back to you; you watched with open eyes, as his breathing went from shallow and tense, to something a little deeper and softer. He was falling asleep. Tough fucking luck, Murdock, you thought, it's time to talk. 

You brushed a hand down his back - Matt arched like a cat, suddenly waking.

"Hey, Matty."

He sighed heavily. "I was sleeping."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were-"

"- I'm tired," Matt huffed. "Go to sleep."

"I'm tired too," you murmured. Tired of this. Tired of this silence. Tired of you.

"Sleep too, then."

"I will," you whispered. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm working all day. Probably late."

"Okay, goodnight," you said. "I love you."

Silence. 

The morning came and still, Matt barely spoke to you. He ghosted past you in the morning, hands fumbling for a clean shirt and pants. His shoes were pulled on and coffee made, and he was out the door before you'd even risen for work. That was purposeful. He never left earlier than 8AM and it wasn't even gone 7:30. Maybe he didn't want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to talk to anyone that wasn't you - which was funny, because you'd barely had a conversation in weeks. 

You had lunch with Karen later that day, about four doors down from the Nelson & Murdock office. Whatever dalliance she'd had with Matt was in the past - you two were good friends. She was level-headed and candid. You needed that in a friend. She always said what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to. 

"So, I'm gonna see this guy for a second date, I think," Karen was saying something. You were gone, eyes blankly staring past her. "But I'm not sure, because - hey, are you listening to me?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm sorry. I had a really shitty night."

Her face fell with concern. "What's going on?"

"Matt's losing himself to his night job," you admitted. "I haven't had a proper talk with him in fucking months. I don't think he's touched me since people liked James Corden, Karen. Do you know what a long time that is?"

"Jesus," she muttered. Without another word, she pulled out her diary and flicked through it. "Look, it says he's got his whole afternoon wide open today. He went home at midday I think."

You faltered slightly. Either Karen was mistaken or Matt was a fucking liar and had fed you bullshit about being busy this afternoon. The worst part was that you knew Karen never made mistakes when it came to her secretary job. She had a Pinterest board for everything and her Google calendar synced up to ten different devices. She probably wasn't wrong and lying to you, although a new development, was pretty in line with how Matt had been lately. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. The thing that sealed your relationship's fate.

"I..." you muttered. "Okay. Will you hate me if I ditch early to go and talk to him?"

Karen shook her head. "No. Go."

That subway ride was the longest of your ride. It felt like every stop was twice as long; like every red signal lasted ten years. Had the walk from the platform to the barriers always been this long? Had the street from the station to your apartment been this stretched out? Your feet had never hurt more as you sprinted up the stairs from the lobby to your apartment. The door was on the latch - Karen was right, he had been home - and you booted it down with ease. Matt jumped up from the sofa as you did.

"What are you-"

"- you're a fucking liar!" you snapped. 

There was a lingering silence for a moment. Matt was a man of few words but he had very rarely found himself speechless.

"I'm done," you muttered.

"Done with what?"

"I'm done with you," you said. "I'm done with us. With this shitty relationship. Do you know how long I've been trying? How long I've been begging you to give me some kind of attention? Months, Matt. I've been dying for MONTHS and you haven't cared."

"I haven't been ignoring you-"

"- please don't lie to me," you cut him off again. 

The silence returned. You might have been half way out the door for months but Matt had been the one holding it open. The worst part was that you loved him to your very core and if he just said the words then - stay, don't go - or even any fucking word in the human language that hinted at a glimmer of hope, you would have thought twice. Maybe your apartment was a ghost town now but it was haunted with what used to be. Maybe there was a chance to go back to that. Just maybe. You would take maybe. 

The seconds passed. One, two, three. You counted them as they went, right up until you hit sixty. The dreaded one minute mark. That was more than enough time to beg. You could have done it in thirty. But he'd said nothing. The silence now said more to you than Matt had in the last three months. 

"Do you have nothing to say?" you quietly asked. 

"Right," you murmured. "I'm really done then."

"Just...think about this?" Matt said. His voice wavered slightly. There it was. The thing you'd been wanting to hear. It was just one minute too late. 

"Moment's passed, Matty,"