#Husband!Matt Murdock x Wife!Reader

[maple-the-awesome]

Home Sweet Home ||

Pairing: Husband!Matt Murdock x Wife!Reader

Words: 2,375

Overview: After a rough day spent between the courtroom and the streets of Hell's Kitchen, Matt returns home to the biggest reason to why he fights. A/N: I decided there isn't enough Matt Murdock + family fics, so I decided to write my own ;)

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Matt sighs heavily while carefully lowering himself against the door to use it as support against his aching back. Anymore he gets back pain simply by standing for too long thanks to his growing age, but getting hit in the spine by a crowbar surely doesn't help either, nor does the addition of a broken nose and numerous stinging bruises along his ribs. Needless to say, Matt has had a rough night with the earlier hours of his day not having been much better.

He should've listened to you this morning. He had woken up with a terrible migraine likely acquired from being kicked in the head too many times the previous night yet despite your pleas for him to get some rest, he stubbornly argued against the idea. He had a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk plus jury deliberations were scheduled to finish for a case the firm's been working on for weeks; he had to go to work. 

Of course, you're smart enough to know by the way his arms kept lingering around your waist that he wasn't trying to convince you, but rather himself and unfortunately for him, no matter how good he is at arguing, he can't change outcomes; the universe has been set against him from the moment he lost track of your comforting smell this morning.

It was raining heavily when he left, meaning a simple umbrella did nothing to prevent him from being soaked upon arriving at the firm. He had barely been able to stay awake for paperwork, nodding off several times before finally giving in to a coffee break, however, the pot's rusty handle decided that was the perfect moment to finally break, splashing the burning liquid all over his white shirt and suit. To make matters worse, as he tried to fruitlessly clean himself off whilst ignoring the pain, Karen had walked by to kindly remind him it was noon; an hour before needing to be at court.

Despite Karen and Foggy's attempted reassurances that it wasn't noticeable, Matt knew they were lying. Half of his shirt was stained in a way that made it look like he had tried going swimming in the muddy puddles outside; not court appropriate at all. He would've tried convincing Foggy to go on his own if not for the fact that he always has an angel on his side. 

Less than twenty minutes before needing to leave, Matt had been relieved to hear your heartbeat enter the building. Luckily, your mother had been visiting when he called, allowing you time to rush over to deliver a change of clothes to your husband. He made sure to share his thanks through a deep kiss, one you would've loved to savor all day if not for the knowledge that his colleagues were around. With burning cheeks, you had to practically pry Matt off of you while shoving the suit into his arms with a bashful smile. 

Thanks to you, Matt was able to make it to court on time while looking the part of a good lawyer, although regretfully, that fire of confidence and joy that you managed to light in his chest with your wishes of good luck was quickly extinguished by the jury.

Nelson and Murdock lost the trial. Despite weeks of preparation, their client was found guilty. While it's never fun to lose a trial which is bound to happen to even the greatest of lawyers, Matt felt soured by the knowledge that witnesses had lied. Seeing that the 'victim' of the case was a high standing member of society, there's no doubt in his mind that witnesses had been bought off, but alas, as much as he had hoped the jury would see past the lies he attempted to expose earlier, not everyone has advanced senses like him.

Seeing that the attorney side of his day had been nothing short of a disaster, Matt can't say he had high hopes for his evening hours spent protecting Hell's Kitchen as Daredevil; easily the roughest of his jobs. At this point in his career, he's certain criminals can just sense when it's a bad time for him. From simple days of misfortune like today to the more extreme cases such as Fisk's decision to escape jail on your wedding night which had been the truest test of Matt's forgiveness and patience.

Beaten down and exhausted, Matt stumbles through your shared apartment in his memorized path to the bedroom. He's pleased to see you're at least sleeping soundly for once. As much as he loves being tended to by the best personal nurse in New York and all the stolen kisses that come with such treatment, he feels guilty when you've obviously stayed up just for him. Besides, you need sleep now more than ever with your own body still recovering.

Biting his lip, Matt tries not to hiss in pain while peeling off his suit. Taking a few breaths, he contemplates whether he should take a shower or not. Seeing that he has more bruises than cuts, there isn't much need to unless wanting to soak his aching bones, but even then, he's just too tired at this point. Honestly, after everything that has gone wrong today, all he wants to do is to just curl into bed next to his wife, however, even that's going to have to wait it seems.

Matt knows it's coming before it even happens simply by the jump in heartbeat. He almost trips over his own feet trying to get to the crib where he's quick to gently scoop the tiny newborn into his arms. Despite being within his comfort, her cries are loud with her tiny arms flopping around wildly in frustration. As annoying as some may find the piercing sound, Matt can't fight his own adoring smile which brings a sting to his nose. 

"Oh no, none of that now...Let's not wake mommy, okay princess? Mommy needs her sleep," he whispers, readjusting his daughter carefully to cradle her more closely to his bare chest which successfully turns her cries into mere whimpers,"...see? It's just daddy...Daddy's here...Nothing to be afraid of."

Too young to be fully aware of her surroundings, lil' Jackielyn Murdock shifts her head in a desperate search for food. While he may not be able to see it, Matt's sure her tongue is sticking out with a scrunched up face which is the description you've given him for whenever she gets hangry. Fortunately for her, daddy's prepared. By the time her cries begin to pick up in volume again, he's already in the kitchen fishing extra breast milk out of the fridge. A month ago he had questioned you on the possibility of having a supply so that he may feed Jackielyn himself, taking some stress off of your shoulders and allowing some good bonding time between them.

Gentle rocking does wonders to distract the baby while preparing the bottle, however, she becomes much happier once she finally gets to eat. Her little hands move up as if to grip the bottle yet hover there in the air, her fingers wiggling with no real direction; a sign of satisfaction, Matt's learned.

"There we go. All better...Guess daddy came home at the perfect time, huh?" 

Matt makes his way through the room, slowly sinking down onto the couch which draws a long sigh from his lips. Just like Jackielyn getting her milk, he's equally satisfied finally being able to rest his back against something soft after such a stressful day of work.

"I heard you've been quite the handful today. Mommy said you cried and cried all afternoon. You even threw up on her when grandma was over. Is that right?...Man...Between comforting you and bringing me new clothes, I think we're going to eventually tire her out, don't you?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jackielyn's forehead," too bad. She's stuck with us Murdocks for the long haul...Not that I think mommy minds. Besides, I might be in trouble some day, but who can resist something as precious as you? 

"...Did you miss daddy today because I sure missed you. I missed you and mommy a lot. I guess none of us are used to me being back at work, huh?" Matt runs a knuckle over Jackielyn's chubby cheek which feels like silk. He lets his touch run up to her hair, remembering how you told him she takes after him with a fluff of brown hair tinted in red. He finds himself wishing he could see her properly, specifically that starry glimmer in her eyes you claim she has whenever looking up at him.

'Barely two months old and already a daddy's girl.'

"I wish I could stay here with you forever...both of you. It's really tempting, too, but I need to leave. I need to help make the world a safe place for you and mommy; to protect you both from any harm. You're daddy's girls. 'can't let anyone hurt either of you," there's a piercing guilt in his heart as he dwells on his own words while clearing away the excess milk that drips from the corners of her mouth. 

Foggy has brought it up to Matt on several occasions: Daredevil is dangerous. Someone could hurt his family to get to him or he could be killed himself, leaving poor Jackielyn on the same road he once walked himself. At first, Matt not only listened to such concerns but lived by them. They plagued his mind, keeping him on his toes as he convinced himself to stay a single man as such would be in his best interest. Then this judgment shifted when you entered the picture. 

Matt loves you; too much to protect you from Daredevil. After you entered his life, it would've been a sin to let you go. He gave you his heart, he married you, and he got you pregnant with a blessing that he was once certain he was too tainted to have. He's tied to you forever which is something he can never regret; the dangers of Daredevil can't change that. 

It's selfish, he worries, after all, he feels your concern every time he comes home to you a bloodied mess, but you always assure him you understand. Even when you're angry with him, even when you get mad at his vigilante lifestyle, you understand. Sitting here now and listening to Jackielyn's heartbeat, he wonders if his daughter will grow to understand, too. He needs to keep Hell's Kitchen safe no longer for just himself or his morals, but for his family now, too. You're both the reason he still marches on even during terrible days such as this one; you're his biggest motivation.

Matt doesn't even flinch when a pair of arms fall over his shoulders, loosely wrapping around him with hands flat against his chest. Instead, his smile grows," did we wake you?"

You hum against his shoulder where your face remains hidden. While you tighten your grip just a smidge, you're cautious not to squeeze him too hard as if already knowing his injuries. Of course, at this point, you always just assume they're there," no. I woke up on my own and saw Jackielyn was gone. 'was about to panic until I saw the suit. Luckily I'm not concerned enough about Daredevil stealing my baby to call the police."

"I wouldn't be either. Word on the street is he's real good with babies."

You lift your head, smiling sleepily at the sight of your daughter. It had taken forever to get her to bed yourself. After nearly an entire day of giving you hell, she had finally passed out, but now that she's with daddy, she's drifting off with ease. Typical.

"Daddy's girl for sure...You're going to spoil her so much when she's older, aren't you?"

Matt turns his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek," of course I am."

You leave his side for a short time before returning with a damp towel from the kitchen. While your husband continues feeding your daughter, you gently dab under his nose, cleaning the dried blood before checking the rest of his body for anything else in need of tending to. Each time you make contact with his skin, he leans into your touch like a magnet with the same love-drunk look on his face as his daughter.

When Jackielyn becomes too sleepy and full to finish the rest of her bottle, Matt follows you to the bedroom where he burps her before carefully setting her back in the crib after a kiss to the cheek. By the time he reaches the bed, you're already wrapped in a bundle of blankets, opening your arms for him to join you which is an offer he gratefully accepts.

Pulling you against his chest, he keeps you locked between his strong arms so that he can immediately go to work leaving butterfly kisses against your neck. This draws a content moan from your lips, your fingers tangling themselves in his hair which is a feeling that makes him forget all about the aching of his body to focus on instead. 

He takes his time leading his lips up, giving extra attention to the most sensitive part of your skin which he nibs softly before resuming sloppy kisses that trail along your jawline and finally reach the finish line to capture your own lips. Unlike earlier at the firm, you savor this deep kiss, allowing Matt to be the one who pulls away once satisfied.

His words are breathless when resting his forehead against yours," I'm gonna take the day off tomorrow."

"Will Foggy and Karen be okay with that?"

"I'm sure they can survive a day without me. Maybe I'll have you take some pictures of Jackielyn to send to Foggy just in case. You know he can't say 'no' to his niece."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll even put her in that outfit he bought her. The red one that says 'my daddy's not daredevil'," Matt chuckles, pressing his lips to yours once more which has honestly become his addiction ever since your first date years ago.

It might not always be easy balancing all the parts of Matt Murdock's life, but at least he can always look forward to being home with his little family; that'll always make every punch worth it in the end.

[petertingle-yipyip]

DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

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

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

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

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

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

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

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

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

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

“I couldn’t focus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

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

“Lucky me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

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

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

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

[megthemewlingquim]

love's perfect ache

Summary: Your husband wants nothing more than to love you breathless.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: smut! Matt is a soft dom (that alone deserves a warning); fingering, multiple orgasms (one somewhat forced but it is not non-con); dirty talk

A/N: Holy shit. So. A lot of things have happened since I last posted. Some of these things include but are not limited to

a) I have been seeing someone romantically for a year and four months

b) I'm graduating with my Bachelor's Degree in Education in May.

c) I've been Student Teaching full time in order to graduate, so I haven't been able to write.

However, these last three days have given me a spark of madness. I first started this draft a little less than a year ago, and only now have I finished it.

This fic is based off of... personal experience. ;) I hope you like it.

The clatter of plates and silverware jumps through the apartment. The smell of shrimp scampi still lingers in the air, though the windows have been opened and the leftovers have been put in the fridge.

Matt leans his arm over the back of the couch as he sits down, relaxing into his seat. A small part of him wants to go back to you, the remarkable woman behind him who had insisted on doing the dishes and taking care of the leftovers yourself. “Go sit and be handsome,” you’d said, kissing his shoulder. “I can manage it.”

Oh, you.

You never like asking for help, or accepting it when it is given. Not that you think you’re above it, but because you don’t want to trouble anyone else with anything.

He doesn’t love that, but he loves you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, toying with the ring on his finger.

“Yeah?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Mm, nothing,” he mutters. “Was just thinking ‘bout you.”

The hum of amusement you give him is a common little sound. One of quiet acknowledgement. It’s almost like you’re numb to what he’s telling you.

Selfless, as always.

The sound reminds him of more intimate times between you two. Sighs, moans, squeaks, breathless laughs and barely audible whines. All from you. And then, he thinks of what you say to him sometimes, when he offers to do certain things.

“It’s alright, baby, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need to finish. It’s okay. I’m too tired.”

“Honey, I’m good. I promise. You don’t have to do anything.”

Matt snaps back to the current moment. His heart hurts.

In the two years that you’ve been married, you’ve had a bit of trouble; not only with accepting help or kind words or generous gifts of affection, but with accepting pleasure too, pleasure that Matt so willingly wants to give to you. He knows about that, how you find it difficult to fathom the love he has for you and the ways he wants to express it.

Yes, you’ve discussed your kinks and your turn-offs with him. You’ve been intimate, and you’ve enjoyed it immensely. But you’ve never quite gotten to where he wants you, to where you should be.

You deserve pleasure, and you don’t see it.

Matt’s jaw clenches.

“Honey?” he asks. “You good?”

“Yup!” you chirp. “Just putting the last pan away."

“Ok.”

Thirty seconds pass. He hears you, in that time, put the last pan into the lazy-susan cabinet and wipe down the counter one last time. Then, you step away from the kitchen and sit next to him on the couch with a sleepy little mumble.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks softly, leaning in to nuzzle into your neck. He leaves a feather-light kiss there.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Everything’s… good.”

“I have an idea,” he mumbles into your skin, his hand trailing up your thigh. “And I need to know what you think about it.”

“What are you thinking?” you ask, a hint of a smile in your voice.

“Well, I was thinking… that we could… have some fun.” Matt grins.

You breathe outward, silently, your breath heavy and shuddered, as his lips trail to the back of your neck and he bites into the flesh.

“I’d like that,” you say.

“I wasn’t finished. We have some fun… but I spend the night just… letting you feel everything. I want to make you come, sweetheart. A lot, if I’m honest.”

He can hear the sharp inhale — quiet but noticeable — and how your heartbeat picks up almost instantly. His grin widens. “I want to spoil you tonight. All I want you to do is lay on the bed and be your beautiful self. I’ll do the rest.”

“I — um — ” you stammer, “you don’t have to do that — ”

“Uh uh.” Matt shakes his head. “None of that now. I want to do this. You don’t see how much you deserve this, honey. What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“ ‘m not afraid… just…”

“Just?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re too damn humble for your own good, you know?”

You shrug.

“Baby, look at me,” Matt says softly. When he knows you have done so, he says, “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I’ve noticed it. I just wanna give my girl what she deserves. Will you let me do that? Even just for tonight?”

It takes a good ten seconds for you to give him the slightest sound of approval. A tiny little “uh huh,” close to a whisper, but he can hear it.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grinning.

Matt carries you to bed bridal-style, shutting the door behind him with the back of his foot, and sits you on the edge of the bed.

He starts by just kissing you; your lips, your cheeks. Softly, gently, with both hands coming up to your jawline and your neck, thumbs swiping your cheeks and temples.

His affection is always, always welcomed. You have never felt safer than when you are in his arms — those same arms that are often covered in bruises and scratches and blood, those same arms that drop snitches from buildings and punch the daylights out of bad guys. You have never felt safer.

His hands fall down to your chest, your waist, lightly applying pressure or squeezing gently. You're in the warm embrace of someone who could break you, and the fact that he chooses to treat you with such delicate care makes your heart swell and your chest ache with such love — and this turns you on even more.

Matt treasures you. Cherishes you.

He sighs into the kisses he gives. “You have no idea how much you turn me on,” he says, his voice low. “You know that?” He moves his head up and kisses your forehead; his lips linger there for a while. “And you don’t even realize it… you don’t realize that I get off by making you feel good.”

What Matt has just said to you doesn’t register fully until he’s already laid you down onto the bed, gently pushing you down with his right hand. He straddles you, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. “You beautiful, wonderful, lovely girl.” He leans down, kissing your clothed chest and your stomach before shuffling your pants off of you.

He gets in between your legs, sitting on the bed sideways but still facing you. You’re wearing black boyshorts, the comfiest pair you own. Matt’s favorite. He likes imagining how the black would look on you, and how the cloth would hug your hips.

His hand gently strokes the crotch of your underwear, the pressure sending sparks up your privates. It’s so much different, you think, to have someone else’s hand there rather than your own.

“You smell so good,” he mutters, in that tone of voice, and you know that he’s not talking about the vanilla eau de parfum you put on every day. No, he’s talking about a different scent you give off.

You flush, embarrassed, crossing your legs and putting your face in your hands. His hand stays where it was, unmoving, between your legs.

A finger moves, right over your clit, and you twitch.

“None of that,” Matt whispers. “No hiding today. I want to see your pretty face.”

“You can’t see,” you whimper through your hands.

“When has that ever stopped me?” he says, and you know he has that shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on,” he coaxes, “take your hands off your face.”

You don’t move. “Matty…”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetie.” A finger moves on your clit again and you gasp. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Even the parts you’re insecure about…”

When you say nothing, he moves his finger again and you twitch at the shock it gives you. “I’m not gonna do anything else until you take your hands off your face,” he says, and you know he’s serious.

Matt’s finger moves for the third time and that’s when you remove your hands. His little chuckle sends shivers down your back.

“There,” he says, “there’s my pretty girl. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

His hand, quick as a bullet, goes into your underwear and cups your pussy, adding pressure again. A strangled sound comes out of you and you cover your mouth. Matt chuckles again, and coos at you, "Aww, what? What's making you so shy? You know I love hearing you."

The teasing is too much now, but you can't seem to get over your shyness. You whimper into your hand, moving your hips to try and get some more friction. It works, but only for a second. Matt immediately notices what you're doing and he draws his hand away again.

"What do you need, baby?"

"Ffffingers."

Matt nods and shuffles you out of your underwear.

Slowly, he puts a finger in you, keeping his eyes lowered and concentrating on your feel, your sounds. The relieved sigh is all he needs, and he stays where he is, knuckle deep inside you. He doesn't move it yet, and instead, he chooses to feel you clench around his finger to no avail.

"So warm," he says, "so warm and wet."

You flush, embarrassed at that. For no reason at all, you've been self-conscious about that part of you, and how it looks, smells, tastes. You turn your head and try to keep yourself away from the praise he's giving you.

Matt tsks. "None of that now. It's beautiful, honey. You're so beautiful."

"M-Matt," you whimper, "no."

"Yes," he says, and starts to move his finger. In and out, slow and steady. The burn and stretch is a welcome one, but you start to feel something else. Almost like a wall, a barrier to your pleasure. You can't come without that wall being torn down.

"Can — can you get the vibrator, please?"

"It's been a while since you've asked for what you want." Matt grins. "That's a good girl, hm? Of course, I can."

He moves, pulling his finger out of you and getting off the bed. He opens the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out a magenta colored vibrator.

Matt gets back on the bed and puts his finger in you again. The wall comes back once he starts moving his finger again, but this time he puts the vibrator in your clit and presses a button. It buzzes to life, only on the lowest setting, but it's enough.

The wall comes down and all you feel is pleasure. You sigh, relieved. The vibrator is a nice distraction from the stretch.

"There you go," Matt says quietly. "Just feel that, honey. I've got you."

I've got you.

The reassurance that Matt gives you is both comforting and sexy. You like being submissive, and you like being taken care of. More than anything, you like being taken care of by the man who made his vows, before God and the world, to be your husband for the rest of your lives.

You melt into the bed as he continues to make love to you. Subspace is setting in and your mind goes fuzzy. You wouldn't normally describe yourself as a pillow princess, but here, right now... you are. And that's what Matt wants.

He smiles, shushes you gently, and this hurls you down into subspace even more. "Such a good girl," he whispers, "always so good to me. Just let me take care of you."

And with that, you're gone. Completely vulnerable, giving yourself over to Matt. And he finds it so lovely. so beautiful, how much you trust him.

"I think what you need is a little more... maybe right here — "

His fingers do something else, they go lower and deeper. Immediately, you feel like you're being punched in the stomach, but the sensation itself is far from painful. You can't stop yourself this time; you moan, a choked sound, and you bury your head to the side and into your pillows. Dear God, if Matt keeps this up, you're not gonna last much longer.

"There," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth, keeping his fingers moving right there, in and out, "that's what you need, hm? I know, honey, I know."

Matt knows you. He knows you, inside and out, body and soul. He knows your laugh, your smile, your voice, your smells. He knows how you moan, how you shiver, twitch and gasp. He knows what makes you tick. He knows how you come, what you need to get there. There's nothing more comforting — or sexy — than that.

You're unbelievably tense - your entire body is stiff, coming close to that edge. Matt can feel it, simply on his fingers, but he can hear it, too: the way your breath hitches and the way your moans increase, both in frequency and in pitch. He can feel your blood flowing, he can hear your heartbeat increase, feel how warm your skin has become. He notices all of these things, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world. A small part of him is still regretful that he cannot see, but only because... oh, what he wouldn't give to see your face.

"Matty," you whimper, "M-Matty, I'm cc-close. I'm so close—"

He loves hearing that desperation in your voice. You're starting to move around, turning and panting, almost in an attempt to get away from the pleasure that's sure to overtake you in a few moments. He can sense how tight your eyes are closed, how dry your mouth has become from all the sounds - oh, the beautiful sounds - that you're making, how tightly your fists are clenched, and where your arms are going. You don't seem to know exactly what to do with your hands. A few times, it looks like you debate whether to hide your face again, but you don't do that.

"M-Matty!"

And he knows, then, that you're peaking, that the orgasm has already begun and you're just on the edge of letting go, letting it completely overtake you. You've given yourself completely to him, and you're at his mercy.

And the Devil of Hell's Kitchen does have mercy, believe it or not.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he whispers, with such gentle fondness and delight that you have no choice but to obey.

You're gone, your body in flames and filled with electric sparks. Fireworks.

The sound that comes from you then is the most beautiful sound Matt has ever heard. He's heard it before, and he will never get tired of it. It's a sound of release, of letting go... a cry of pleasure, almost a guttural scream and a shuddered breath all at once. It's an orgasmic wail or sometimes it is even a period of silence where you are just completely lost in the agonizing ecstasy of it all.

You're coming, and you're coming hard... He always knows what to do or say to make that happen. When he married you, he made a vow to himself to always make you feel like the most satisfied woman in the world. It's always a reward when this happens, when he can hear and feel you like this.

It's a long one, he realizes, because you gasp and shiver and twitch and spasm and cry out in surprise as the waves of pleasure keep rushing over you. He laughs, then, a small amused chuckle that leaves you even more breathless than you already are. Matt delights in making you feel this way. If he could go down on his knees and beg God Almighty to let him do this forever, he would.

"Oh, that's it," he coos, "that's my girl."

His praise, combined with the continued moving of his fingers - shouldn't they be getting sore by now? - only makes your orgasm last longer. Once it begins to fade, your body relaxes and you breathe out a sigh of contentment and warmth. Your eyes remain closed - and it's probably a good thing, because the way Matt is looking at you now would be enough to kill you with how loving it is The aftershocks of your orgasm - little jolts of pleasure - start to course through you.

"That was beautiful," he mutters to himself. "I think I want another from you."

You eyes snap open. "Honey," you mumble.

"What?" he asks gently. "I know you can." His hands are moving now, all across your body in an attempt to soothe you. You look down and see the tent in his pants: he's never been so hard in the years that you've known him.

"You need help with that?" you ask with a smile, sitting up. By the direction that your voice is going, he knows what you're talking about.

"No, no, no," he says, using a hand to push you back onto the bed. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

"Yes," Matt kisses your chest, "you were."

"I can't come again."

"Yes, you can." Matt clicks the vibrator on again and, before you can move away, puts it on your clit.

Your whole body seizes up, your clit goes numb, and all you can feel is good, but too good. Your mind blanks. You shriek out a sound of surprise and pleasure and agony, your body instantly trying to get away. It's too much, you're too sensitive, but he won't let up. He holds you down, shushing you again as you let out little cries and sobs and moans. Your body convulses, twitching in his grasp.

"Shh, shh, baby... I got you. Remember that. You're alright."

"MattMattMatt — I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he says again, firmer this time, but laughs as you try to get away. "Just hang on a little longer, you'll feel good again. Your body is already adapting to it. You're okay."

And of course, it's true. Your body is already getting used to it. Your sobs die down and now, the pleasure is bearable. Extremely good, actually. Your moans are weak, your eyebrows are furrowed, and your eyes are shut again. The convulsions are stopping, and now all you can do is feel it all again.

"That's it, bubba," Matt says, "see? I know you can handle it."

He puts two fingers inside you, slowly, and the burn is less uncomfortable now. A guttural sound leaves you again as you're filled up, and once Matt starts moving again, you tense up immediately. Two fingers and a vibrator are a recipe for an extremely quick orgasm, and you both know it.

"Baby," you whisper.

"What?" he coos. "Is my girl close already?"

"Nnngh," is all you can reply back. "Mm hmm."

"That's what I wanted," Matt says quietly, triumphantly. "You don't have to say anything anymore. Just feel it."

It doesn't take much longer for you to get close to coming again. Especially when Matt begins to drive his fingers into you harder, faster. You can't even speak anymore; all you can do is vocalize; moan, whimper, gasp. And you know that Matt is having the time of his life. One of the first things he ever said to you about things like this was that he'd get off by getting you off, and that has always stuck with you.

Your legs start to quiver.

You peak again, sobbing out a high pitched whine. The feeling is strong now, like an unstoppable force is meeting an immovable object. Your body is tense, unbelievably so, and the pleasure keeps building, but it never crests. It never reaches that point. That's the trouble of having one orgasm after another. It's hard to come. "MMMatt, pplease, please, p —"

"Shh," Matt says again with a grunt, "don't worry. We'll get you there. Relax as much as you can. Remember, I'll take care of you." You try your best to relax your body but it's still a bit difficult. All the while, Matt is practically shoving his fingers into you now, relentlessly, and you start to hear noises down there that send your mind reeling. Your back arches.

"You fuckin' hear that?" Matt's sudden vulgarity is a surprise. He's ravenous. "Oh, you want it, don't you?" He hoists a leg over your own to keep you from moving. "You're so close. Stay here, don't run away from me."

He pauses, but his fingers keep moving. "I'll get some restraints later."

After a few more seconds, it finally hits. You crest, your orgasm starting again, and all you can shriek is a simple, "Oh, oh Jesus — "

"Just come," Matt says quietly. It contrasts heavily with the way he's ramming his fingers into you. "Don't do anything else. Just come. Let go. Let go, let go, let go — "

And, with the encouragement comforting you, what else can you do but do as he says? You're stuck in place and your mind is mush. You come with another wail, this one stronger and more primal than the first, louder too, and you see stars behind your eyelids. Your leg is shaking, and if your other one could move, it would, too. Your clit is warm, almost numb again, and your arms are quivering above his head. The sounds from your privates get more intense, and Matt grunts in exertion. You don't know anything anymore, you can't think or speak. All you can do is feel, and that's exactly what Matt wanted from the start.

You're sure Matt's senses are overloaded. Sound, smell, taste, feel. He can hear how desperate and overtaken you are, he can smell and taste your arousal and sweat in the air, and he can feel your quivers and shakes and your tightness. He's rock hard now, and it probably hurts a little, but he doesn't care. You're all that's on his mind and once again he wishes that he could only see your face in this moment.

"Oh, look at you," Matt praises, slowing his fingers now. You're a mess, a beautiful, satiated mess. There are tears in your eyes and sweat on your brow. Your hair is tangled and unkept, and your knuckles hurt from how hard you've been clenching your fists. It's amazing how this is only from a fingering, but you needed this. You wanted this, as shy as you were to admit it. You pant, weakly, your legs completely unable to move. You're jelly, practically limp, and you twitch and shudder as the last of the aftershocks hit you.

"Can I put it in now?"

You shriek and Matt laughs, falling beside you and immediately wrapping his arms around you. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, baby." He kisses your forehead and cradles your head to him. "Such a good girl," he says, "you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you."

You swallow, and the saliva is a welcome sensation on your dry throat. "I think... I'll call off of work tomorrow," you pant. "Holy hell, Matty."

"Careful," Matt says, "if you do that, I won't be able to stop myself from doing this all over again once you wake up."

"I'm in danger," you say with a breathless laugh. "Just be gentle, okay?"

"Of course," he says, "always. I'm so happy that you allowed me to do that. It's been a while since you've given in that much. You don't know how hot it is to me when you let go like that."

You look down and see the tent in Matt's pants again. "Do you want me to take care of that now?"

"When you're half asleep already? I'm good, honey. That will go away eventually. But it'll be there in the morning, waiting for you. And I may or may not slip out in a few hours and get some restraints from the sex shop later. You may or may not wake up with your arms and legs tied to the bed. Just be warned."

It isn't long before you slip into sleep, completely exhausted but satiated and happy. And while you sleep, you can still feel Matt's lips on your forehead, and you think you can hear a small, "I love you, sweetheart," too.

[devils-dares]

When the Water Runs Cold

summary: matt's gone missing after patrol, can you find him?

pairing: matt murdock x gn!spouse!reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst, panic, blood, graphic descriptions of injuries, death, grief

word count: 1496

a/n: i have been extremely sad and very much in pain and you all will fall victim to my wrath.

part two here

-----

“Hey! Welcome home.” You smile as he presses himself against your back, a kiss to your jaw and his hands wrap around your waist.

“That smells yummy.” He whispers in your ear.

“Enough!” you slap his arm, giggling, “What has gotten into you? Go change, dinner’s almost ready.” He heads off to the bedroom to change as you pour out the meal on your plates. The two of you talk about your days over dinner, and he takes your plates once you're finished, washing them before joining you on the couch.

“How was work?” You ask, stretching your legs out on the couch. Matt gets closer, squeezing between you and the couch to hold you.

“It was okay.” That’s all he said before peppering kisses along your neck.

“You are insatiable!” You laugh at his actions.

“What? I can’t love on you a little?” He asks, standing up to carry you to bed.

“Depends on what loving on me means.”

“Don’t you worry,” he says with a smirk, laying you on the bed, “I’ll make sure it’s satisfying.”

-----

You wake the next morning, rolling over to cuddle further into Matt’s chest. But all you felt on his side was the cold indent of his body, but not him. Thinking he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch so as to not bother you, you roll over, trying to fall back asleep until you can't cure your need for him anymore. You get out of bed, hissing as the feeling of the cold floor against your bare feet, and walk over to the couch, rubbing your eyes in the process. Laying your eyes on the couch, you felt your blood run cold when it lay empty, pillows and blanket scattered from you and Matt last night.

You searched the apartment, what little there was to search, until you saw that his work bag was missing. He’d probably gone out to the office earlier than usual, maybe something he’d found last night had piqued his interest.

You shrugged, walking over to the bathroom to freshen up, settling yourself on grabbing a cup of coffee for the both of you and walking over to the office yourself, inevitably berating him for not waking you before he left.

You get dressed, stop by your favorite coffee spot and order both of your favorites, and then walk over to the office, only to be met by Karen and Foggy’s exasperated faces.

“Hey, is Matt in his office? I grabbed him some coffee. His briefcase was missing from the apartment.”

“Wait, Matt’s not at home with you? He left it here last night.” Foggy asks, rubbing his forehead.

“No, he isn’t.” You say, growing more worried, putting the coffees down to pull out your phone and call him. Nobody answers.

“It’s just that we’ve been looking for him all morning,” Karen shares, “we have a big case coming up and little to no evidence to back ourselves up, we were waiting for Matt. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night, when he-” you start, and begin to fear the possibility, “he left, said he’d go on patrol. I fell asleep, and he usually wakes me, even for a minute to tell me he made it home safe, but he didn’t last night and I- I have to go.” You hear shouts of your name but you can’t stop, rushing home to see if Matt had made it home again. In your haste, you remember that the two of you’d promised to share your location, moreso you convincing him for moments like this. It shows a radius on your phone, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach when you realize you didn’t recognize the building he was on.

You run to the address blinking at you on your phone, and press on every single buzzer in the lobby, coming up with a shitty excuse before eventually one takes pity on you and lets you in. You rush to the top, where the roof access is, and you climb up, shouting his name. You spot his phone, but not him. Walking over to the phone, you notice the screen, cracked beyond belief, and covered in blood. Actually, the more you look around, there are little splatters of blood everywhere. You curse and cry, allowing the gravity of the situation to finally hit you.

Mahoney’s at his desk, rubbing at his forehead when he gets the call, Matt’s name flashing on his screen.

“Hello, this is Mahoney speaking.” He says, and you damn near sag with relief.

“Hi, this is Matt’s partner. I need your help.” He jolts out of seat, causing the other officers around him to jump, hastily writing down the address you’d said.

-----

“Sorry it took so long, traffic. What do you mean by ‘he’s missing’?” He asks.

“I can’t find him. This is his phone. He- he went out last night and never came home, I don’t think, and he didn’t go to work. I tracked his location and it brought me here.”

“Do you know what his patrol route is?” You shake your head.

“Well if he dropped his phone here and there’s blood, he couldn’t have gone far.”

He did, you and Brett searched for hours on different rooftops, not wanting to alert the police to your activities in fear of anyone finding out who he is. The two of you come to a rooftop with lots of skylights, so you decide to split up to check behind each structure. You’re just about finished with your end when you realize that Mahoney hasn’t moved for the past minute.

“Brett?” You call out, “what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Stay- stay over there.” He says, voice shaky. But you knew what he was looking at before he even opened his mouth.

“Brett, is that my husband?” You begin to walk over.

“You can’t come over here, you-” He’s interrupted by your cries. You scream his name, kneeling at the bloody heap of a body, the only recognizable thing being his suit, his head void of a helmet. You cradle his face in your lap, his face swollen beyond belief, his skin tainted red from his blood.

Matthew was very clearly dead, his body cold, and there was nothing that you could’ve done.

“Brett, I-”

“I can take care of it,” he says, eyes forlorn, “I can cover this up, give him the death he deserves without the world knowing who passed. I can keep his death and Daredevil’s death as far away as possible. I can-”

“Brett, can I just have a second with him?” He apologizes and nods, leaving you and Matt alone. It doesn’t sink in as you kneel next to his body, nor as you brush your fingers through his matted hair. It doesn’t sink in then, and although it will in the future, you let yourself imagine talking to Matt who’s just resting. You wipe your tears away, squeezing your hand around his.

“Til we meet again.” You choke out, the tears unable to stop.

You get up, walking over to Brett who has his head in his hands. You put your hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile.

“We always knew this could happen.” You say.

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.” You spot a red object lying in a corner, mostly hidden behind a box skylight. Walking closer, you realize it’s his helmet, cracked across the forehead to the red lens.

“Oh my god.” You mutter. You take it, walking over to Brett.

“I can’t- no I can’t be here anymore, you gotta take me home.” You’re shaking now, so badly that Brett’s holding you up, the helmet in your hands. He takes his jacket off, wrapping the helmet in it to hide it.

The two of you wordlessly get into his car, and he drives you home, walking you to your door. You’re shaking still when you unlock your door, dropping your keys when you miss the keyhole. Finally you get the door open, stepping into the empty apartment. Brett hands you Matt’s helmet.

“I think it’s time I go.” He says, and he hugs you before he walks to the door.

“Brett?” He hums, “could you tell Foggy and Karen? I don’t- I don’t think I have it in me to do it.”

“Of course.” With that he takes his leave.

You stand in the middle of the apartment, a cold breeze causing goosebumps on your arms. You place his helmet on top of the chest where he stores- stored his suit, and make your way to the bedroom, where you lay on his side of the bed.

The silk sheets still hold his scent, and the mattress has an indent in the shape of his body. You haven’t fully processed what’s happened, and what’s going to happen in the coming days, weeks, years without him, but for now you find comfort in his invisible remnants.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Solitary (Matt Murdock x Private Investigator!Wife)

Part 2 of Playing with fire, sort of a filler chapter.

Being in solitary confinement is a living hell, for both you and Matt, and there can't be anything legal about it.

Warnings: mentions of prison, pregnancy, angst, depression, insanity and crying

God, how you wished you could die in this stupid cell right now.

Drawing your knees to your chest, you stifled the overwhelming emotion bubbling up inside you, threatening to escape your lips.

Until it broke the barrier.

You screamed, throat burning, tears pricking your eyes. The sound came from deep within you, like wildfire tearing through the forest. You didn't care that your ears burst with the sound wildly bouncing off the plain walls. You didn't care if the guards thought you were insane, because frankly, you were on the verge of it.

You let your head fall against the wall, sobbing, to tired to care about anything anymore. Nothing was fair, no one would help you and you were pretty sure you'd die here like you wished.

No. You had to keep it together. The trial was only two days away, granted you'd been in here for nearly three weeks since your arraignment. You had to keep it together. For Matt, for the baby.

And you got an idea.

Laying down on the thin, worn mattress, you placed a hand on your stomach and began to speak.

"Hey, little one, its mommy. It's just you and me. Daddy couldn't....be here right now. You've got a big job though. You have to keep me grounded until this is all over, and we can go home after this...big adventure. I hope. Your dad is the best lawyer I know, so I have no doubt he can get us out of this mess in one piece. Or two, if we're being literal."

You were lying through your teeth, more to convince yourself rather than the tiny human inside you.

However, it did bring you peace, speaking to the child. You carried the ritual on as if your life depended on it, which at least your sanity did.

Maybe, just maybe you'd make it through this.

Bonus

His ears picked up the heartbreaking cry from a quarter of a mile away. He wanted to hold you, even just being with you would've eased his pain, and he guessed, yours too. His heart broke further when he heard your hopeless sobs.

But the thing that sent Daredevil home for the night was when he heard your voice, so soft that even he had to strain to hear it. Talking to your child. His child.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is. 

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

 The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.��� You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back.  He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”  

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

[hellsburners]

pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined. 

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

-

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.” 

All things he had said before tonight. 

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband. 

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them. 

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Back. Off.” 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. 

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge. 

God, you were turning into Matt. 

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it. 

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort. 

You could do this. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk. 

You could do this. 

A hand pulled you into the alley. 

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat. 

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade. 

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed. 

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops. 

No no no, you needed him alive. 

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced. 

Matt would smell the blood. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen. 

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck. 

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.” 

He let you go. 

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him. 

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.” 

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked. 

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall. 

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out. 

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound. 

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him? 

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.” 

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.” 

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck. 

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home. 

-

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit. 

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted. 

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut. 

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did. 

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.” 

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away. 

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.” 

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.” 

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back. 

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.” 

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here. 

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips. 

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.” 

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.” 

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom. 

“Are you coming or not?” You asked. 

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following. 

-

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of. 

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist. 

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk. 

Fisk. 

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already. 

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much. 

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy. 

“Where are you going?” 

You flinched. Maybe not so easy. 

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm. 

“You want to go over there,” he said softly. 

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?” 

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said. 

Matt frowned. 

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.” 

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.” 

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again. 

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm. 

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him. 

 “Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys. 

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry. 

But you were already gone. 

-

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air. 

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside. 

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you. 

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run. 

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside. 

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place. 

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty. 

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk. 

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you. 

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.” 

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket. 

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.” 

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.” 

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.” 

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer. 

Bingo. 

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door. 

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach. 

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other. 

The door opened. 

Bartman looked up. 

The shot.

The blood. 

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs. 

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you. 

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.” 

He raised his gun. 

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment. 

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker. 

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down. 

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs. 

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun. 

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark. 

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed. 

You ran to the red sign. 

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace. 

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.” 

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest. 

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over. 

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression. 

“Did Fisk’s man see you?” 

You swallowed. 

Your silence was enough. 

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment. 

“Stay here,” he said. 

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him. 

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.” 

Matt pushed you behind him. 

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement. 

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?” 

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.” 

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.” 

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions. 

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked. 

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down. 

The man cried out. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer. 

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.” 

“Why does Fisk want this building?” 

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm. 

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you. 

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly. 

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body. 

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.” 

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear. 

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.” 

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you. 

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them. 

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking. 

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest. 

But you weren’t going to back down. 

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.” 

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much. 

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face. 

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled. 

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night. 

-

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

[itsapeterthing]

i NEED a matt murdock fluffy thing with his wife and lazy mornings with loads of cuddles and maybe like showering together (not in a nsfw way but in like a self care way if u get what i mean) TYSM

Autumn Morning || Matt Murdock

pairing: matt murdock x spouse!reader

a/n: happy first day of october! this is just pure fluff and my first matt murdock blurb so i hope you enjoy!

word count: 847

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || matt murdock masterlist

You weren’t sure what woke you up first.

It could’ve been the feeling of your husband’s calloused hands brushing against your exposed skin as he reached to you from the other side of the bed; or the sound of his arms rustling against the comforter, tucking it under your chin. It also may have been the feeling of his warm chest against your cold fingertips as he pulled you into him; or the chill from the autumnal breeze outside the window you had left cracked open the night before, slowly slipping into your bedroom in your insentient state.

Whatever it was, you knew you were awake the moment you felt Matt’s chapped lips meet your forehead.

“Morning.”

A smile reaching your face, you hummed.

“How long have you been awake?”

Your husband shrugged.

“Hmmm.” Matt said, laying his head flat against his pillow, thinking. “An hour?”

At his reply, your mouth dropped and you propped your head up on your elbow.

“An hour?” You asked in disbelief. “Just laying here?”

His laughter remained raspy and rumbling from the lack of entertaining his voice had done since the night before and his chest rose and fell sharply as a chuckle escaped his lips.

Between the way the sun peaking in through the curtains seemed to land right on his skin as if it were a spotlight meant for him and how he looked so human this early in the morning, you were sure you had gone into heart failure before the clock even struck seven am.

“I like just laying down with you.” Matt confessed, laying his head to the side. “You’re just… peaceful.”

Biting back a smile, you reached your free hand up to his tousled hair and ran your fingers through it, brushing the flyaways back from his forehead.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes. “Also you’re a snorer.”

Your mouth fell and although he didn't see it unfold, you knew that he knew.

“I do not snore!”

Pulling your hand from his hair, you moved to strike a playful blow to his chest until Matt’s hand caught your wrist mid air.

“Okay!” He laughed. “Okay. You don’t.”

You smiled triumphantly.

“That’s what I thought.”

As you slipped your wrist from his grasp, the palm of your hand brushed against the tip of his nose. Far from the warmth his chest provided, the cold had appeared to nip at your lover’s nose throughout the night, evident from it being red paired with his dusted pink cheeks.

“Why didn’t you shut the window, hon?” You asked, tapping the tip of his nose. “You’re freezing.”

Matt shrugged once more.

“Didn’t think of it.”

Rolling your eyes at his inability to pry himself from bed, you pushed yourself up and flung the covers off, making the first move to get out of bed, shut the window and start your day.

But your husband had another plans.

Just as your feet were about to meet the floor, Matt grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, forcing you to tumble back onto the mattress and into his arms.

“But you’re cold.” You protested as he wrapped his arms around you- a hint of laughter evident in your voice.

“Warm me up then.” Matt retorted.

Not one able to evade his open arms for too long, you settled into his embrace. Your head resting on his shoulder and fingertips tracing the exposed skin of his chest, you laughed.

“You know,” you said, staring up at him. “Usually I’m the one who has to convince you to stay in bed.”

The corners of his mouth upturned, a laugh escaped his lips.

“Well I can get up if you want me to-”

“No!” You exclaimed before noting your excitement and cleared your throat. “I mean... no. If this is what you want to do then it’s fine.”

Matt ran the backside of his knuckles against your clothed shoulder.

“You sure?” He asked. “I have a client at nine. I was thinking I could use a shower beforehand, but if you think I’m fine...”

God, he was cocky wasn't he?

“Now that you say it...”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Matt asked.

“Well I was just thinking that you do kind of smell awful.”

“Wow!” Matt exclaimed- a burst of laughter following.

“And that you might even need some help.” You joked. “It’s that bad, babe.”

Your husband shook his head in loving disbelief and the tired smile that littered his face was enough to make your heart flutter in your chest tenfold. Although the crisp Autumn air sent a chill up his spine, he would deal with that and far more just for moments like this with the love of his life: you.

“Sounds like we should take a shower then, right Mrs. Murdock?”

Pushing yourself up to meet his lips in a dazed kiss, you smiled.

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Murdock.”

Meeting your lips once more as a seal of approval from your joint decision, he sat up and pushed off the comforter.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He said. “Let’s get out of bed.”

[multiharlot]

cayendo // matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: your husband takes a business trip to la

warnings: it's always the "my wife" guys...looking at you NED FULMER........i'm so sorry for this, lmao

i like feeling pain so uhhhh song inspiration is cayendo by frank ocean.

main masterlist || series masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

you sighed as you sat next to your husband's half packed bag on your bed.

"what?" he asks, stopping after he places a t shirt into the bag.

"i just...why the suit?" you frown, and he just smiles, sitting next to you.

"hey, it's just in case. i'm literally going to defend my suit tailor from a vigilante. i might need it." he shrugs, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your pouting lips.

you just groan, throwing yourself backwards onto the bed and flopping your arms dramatically above your head. matt laughs softly, shaking his head at your antics. he places the last item of clothing into his bag and pushes the bag off of the bed before laying right on top of you.

"you know i love you, yeah? and that i'll always come home to you?" he asks, leaning up on his forearms and pushing a few stray pieces of hair away from your face.

"yeah but-"

"no but's. you know that, right?"

"yes." you sigh, and matt smiles, placing his hand softly on your cheek.

"i'll be okay. it's just a week, my love." he says, your heart fluttering at how softly and delicately he spoke to you.

you closed your eyes, leaning your face onto his hand and letting out a soft breath before opening your eyes and smiling up at your husband.

"i love you"

"i love you more" he smiles, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips.

liar. liar liar liar.

it's all that ran through your head as you looked down at your phone, seeing pictures of daredevil and she-hulk flood your timeline. edits of them together and a video of your husband leaving an apartment building early in the morning with his shoes in hand. clearly doing the walk of shame.

you'd seen enough.

you throw your phone to the opposite side of the couch and just sit there, staring at the blank wall in front of you. you weren't really sure what to do. scream. cry. call him and yell. leave and never speak to him again.

you genuinely didn't know what to do.

your phone violently began to vibrate and ring, and you just sat there, letting it ring. letting the texts and calls pile up. undoubtedly foggy and karen calling you after seeing the news all over their timelines. but let's be honest, even if you did pick up the phone, you'd have nothing to say. what could you say?

your husband just cheated on you.

what in the world could you possibly say?

your thoughts were interrupted by violent knocking at your door. you took a moment to breathe before making your way to the door and slowly bringing it open, and you're face to face with your best friend, leanne. she stands there, slightly out of breath and her eyes fixed onto you, seemingly waiting for you to say something.

"what do i do?" you breathe out, your eyebrows furrowed as you stand there in front of her, still in disbelief.

"you do whatever you need to do. and whatever it is, i support you. need to leave? i'll pack your things. do you need to stay? we'll get comfy and we can talk through it. wanna set his stuff on fire? i'll grab the matches. need to disappear and change your identity? i know a guy. you tell me whatever it is you need right now, and we'll do it." she says firmly, walking into your home and shutting the door behind her.

for a moment, you just stood there, still in the hallway. everything around you felt like him. hell, you were wearing his clothes. and even in his betrayal, you'd never felt safer than when you were surrounded in these pieces of him. knowing that made part of you angry, but it also made part of you break more than you thought it could. the place where you felt safest is a place you didn't belong. a place you weren't sure you ever belonged in the first place. deep down you always kind of knew. you knew that you weren't really his...type.

you almost wanted to laugh at yourself.

a type. what a small menial thing in comparison to falling in love. who cares about an archetype when you're in love.

but deep deep down, and every now and then, very sparsely, the thought came into your head. you'd considered the women he'd loved. the hard headed type, fighting the world in their mini skirts and heels. the bold type. they were so outspoken and strong. physically and mentally. when they spoke, everyone turned their heads to look and listen. they captured the attention of a room full of people simply just by walking in. you'd admired it. admired them. but you also knew, that just wasn't you. and even though you knew that, you'd always figured it was dumb. it wasn't an insecurity so much as it was just....a known fact. you were his type breaker. but that didn't really matter because at the end of the day, he married you. he built a life with you. why would something as dumb as a type matter when he chose you to spend forever with?

but now, suddenly, types mattered. and while he was always yours, it's clearly evident that you were never his. wether he married you or not, at the end of the day, you just weren't his type.

"what's going on in your pretty head, huh?" leanne asks softly, coming up behind you, wrapping her arms around you and laying her head on your shoulder.

you didn't bother to answer. not wanting to burden her with everything going on in your head.

he was supposed to come home tomorrow. you'd counted down the days. but now, you weren't sure you wanted to be there when he got home and yet you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

*****

matt murdock didn't think it was possible for him to run this fast. as soon as the plane landed, he'd run out of the terminal gates about to flag down a taxi when he'd heard foggy shouting.

"HEY YOU GIGANTIC IDIOT GET IN THE CAR!"

for a moment, he'd considered walking instead. he'd rather suffer walking 20 miles back to his apartment than a 30 minute car ride with foggy, who was beyond pissed.

matt walked towards the car and foggy snatched his suitcase from his hand, quite literally throwing it into the backseat and slamming the door shut as he walked over to the drivers side.

"i'm not opening your door"

matt opened his mouth to speak, but he decided it was best not to. he slid his hand across the door before grabbing the handle and sliding into the passenger seat before sinking into himself. all he could think about was getting home to his wife. hoping and praying that she'd be there when he got back.

"why'd you do it" foggy asked, his voice cold and angry.

his tone was harsh and he was short with matt. rightfully so.

"i...i don't even know."

matt wasn't even sure why he did what he did. he'd just...slipped into his old ways, he guessed. he loved his wife. he loved you. you were everything he'd ever dreamed of in a woman. you two fit like a glove. complimented each other. your lifestyles complimented each other. so he didn't even know how it happened. he just knew that he was sorry, and he'd do anything to fix it.

foggy scoffed, shaking his head.

"you don't know? you don't know. great. that's just great, matt. so you did it for no reason then?"

"no. not for no reason i-"

"then what? huh? what fucking reason could you possibly have to cheat on your wife, matt? the woman who makes you elaborate lunches to take to work and- and- brings the entire office coffee in the mornings on the way to work? the woman who re-sews the buttons on your shirts with silk thread so they're more comfortable for you and who planned an elaborate beach honeymoon so that for once in your life you'd be able to experience silence? that's the woman you deiced to cheat on?"

matt didn't have an answer. he wish he did. any answer, even if it was an awful one. but he really didn't know why he did it.

"i just...got caught up in the moment. the adrenaline of it all-"

"the adrenaline of it all. okay. right. so do you just have sex with everyone you fight with out there? that a normal occurrence for you?" foggy sarcastically spit out.

matt almost physically winced at foggy's coldness. never in their many years of friendship had foggy been this angry at him. never had matt ever felt like foggy would give up on him. except for right now.

"fog i-"

"no. no you don't get to speak. you're gonna sit there, and you're gonna think about what you're gonna say to her."

and that's what he did. matt sat there, thinking about you. thinking about if you'd be there when he got home. how he'd fix this. he opened his mouth as he turned to foggy and dared to ask

"how is she?"

the question almost made foggy want to laugh. like...maniacally laugh.

"i dunno. her husband just cheated on her. i'd say not very good."

"is she...did she-"

"leave? no. but if you ask me, she should have."

deep down matt wanted to argue that face, but he didn't. he knew better.

"so she's still-"

"i said yes, matt. she's still at home."

matt sunk further into his seat, if that was even possible. and while he and foggy sat in silence, so did you. you were sat at the living room table, a cup of tea in your hand, your leg bouncing up and down in attempt to release your anxiety.

you looked down at your phone, and part of you didn't want to do it. you were sure you wanted to stay here. work through it. but the next thing you knew, you were running across the apartment, stuffing clothes into a bag with your phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear.

"y/n? are you okay?"

"no. i can't be here when he gets here. i need to go."

there was a moment of silence and then lianne's voice came through, harsh and determined.

"i'll be there in five."

taglist:

@multibishh @anothersworld @fuck-goes-on @Mrbillymontgomery @takeyour-pants-off @alexxavicry @eddiemvnsons @caseket @glowstick-lesbian @inas-thing @luvr-bunnyy @desert-fern @dvredevil-s-initivls @thychuvaluswife @drunkangels @nia_um @afootnoteinyourhappiness @slut4murdock

[amhrosina]

Jealousy (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: A little Matt Murdock x reader if you squint. Thanks for requesting, nonnie! I didn't know if you wanted smut, but it wasn't requested, so I just added a little baby interaction at the end that sort of alludes to smut after the end of the fic.

Requests are open!

Request: Could you do one where yn is working with Red but he doesn’t know she’s married to Frank until he shows up and when he finds out he confess to yn that he likes her and frank get jealous and overprotective

Summary: Frank overhears Matt asking you out and sets him straight.

Warnings: a teeny baby tiny little bit of barely smut at the end

Hell’s Kitchen was abnormally quiet as you waited for Red to finish his patrol of the area. No sirens, no screaming, not even the occasional gunshot to keep you on your toes. Your night was rapidly approaching an early end. Not that you minded, though. Frank was back home, patiently waiting for you to crawl into bed next to him.  

Even though he always insisted that you don’t worry about him, you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could hold you in his arms and physically see that you were unharmed. It was the same when the roles were reversed, too. When Frank was the one running around all night, you spent most of the time pacing around the living room, pretending to read a book until he came home. 

Your breath fogged in front of you. The November air was crispy in your lungs, and you couldn’t help but bounce from foot to foot as you did a 360 sweep around the roof. What the hell was taking Red so long? You could’ve circled the entirety of Hell’s Kitchen twice by now.  

The hair on the back of your neck prickled as a light thud sounded behind you. You waited for any indication that told you not to turn around and kick the person's lights out.  

“Hey, Killer.”  

Matt’s voice was gruff, but soft. You instantly relaxed, shoulders dropping in relief as you turned around. 

“What’s up, Red? You find anything?”  

“Nothing important.” He responded, shrugging his shoulders. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Matt’s behavior was alarmingly different than you were used to. Typically, Matt’s demeanor was blunt, sometimes arrogant, and a little bit on the cocky side. Tonight, he was pacing the roof, shrugging his shoulders, and he even looked a little anxious. 

“Red? You good?” 

“Let me take you out to dinner.” 

His words were rushed, pushed together into one breath and said so quickly that you almost missed it altogether. You gaped at him, waiting for him to say something else. The silence between you hung heavy. 

“What?” You finally ask, not knowing what else to say. How were you going to explain to Matt that you couldn’t possibly get dinner with him on account of your VeryBigAndScary husband. 

“Let me take you out,” he began walking towards you, “as Matt, not the Devil. You’re strong and you’re smart and you’re beautiful and I would feel like an idiot if I didn’t at least try to offer myself up to you. Will you let me? Take you out, I mean.”  

You sucked in a breath.  

“Matt, I-” 

A loud chuckle behind you had you whirling around. Matt was immediately defensive, stepping in front of you to shield you from whoever meant harm. You knew that chuckle though, and you knew Matt should probably be running in the opposite direction instead of towards it. 

Frank was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smile dangerous.  

“Frank, this doesn’t concern you.” The softness of Matt’s voice from moments ago was long gone, replaced by the low voice of the Devil. 

Frank’s smile grew wider, and you rolled your eyes. It was like watching a cat taunt the mouse it was 3 seconds away from devouring.  

“It doesn’t concern me, Red? When you’re asking my wife out on a date?” 

You groan and run your hands over your face.  

“What are you doing here, honey?” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“I had a feeling, sweetheart. It’s a good thing I came, too, or else you’d be breaking Red’s heart over here.” 

“Honey? Wife? What the hell is going on here? You two know each other?” Matt’s voice was rapidly rising as he looked between you and Frank.  

You ignore Frank, whose overprotectiveness was starting to grate on your nerves. You were perfectly capable of turning someone down.  

“Matt, uh...” You pause, searching for the right words, “Frank is my husband. We’ve been married for almost three years. Well, technically I’m married to Pete Castiglione, but you know, semantics...” You trailed off, hoping Matt wouldn’t be too angry about your secret. 

“What?” Matt was thoroughly confused, voice rising to a pitch you didn’t know he was capable of. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  

The question was aimed at you, but Frank answered before you could respond.  

“I told her not to. I didn’t want her being tied to me during that legal shit we had to go through last year.” 

“It’s been 9 months since you were pardoned, Frank. What the...what the fuck, guys?” 

Matt sounded genuinely betrayed, but you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of your chest.  

“Matt, I’m so sorry, but once your business with Frank was finished, I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Something like, ‘Oh hey Matt, by the way, I’m married to the guy who chained you to a water tower that one time.’” 

Matt had a small grin on his face now, and you sagged with relief. He wasn’t mad. Frank moved closer to you, pulling your back into his front as he mumbled into your ear, “He deserved it.” 

“I most certainly did not.”  

Frank ran his hand up your arm, following the upwards slope of your shoulder until his fingers rested lightly on your pulse. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a tight hold. You gasped at his forwardness, especially in front of Matt.  

“Red, fuck off, will you?” Frank’s words were thrown in Matt’s direction, who was doing a terrible job at looking like he wasn’t listening. 

“Sorry, Matty.” You mumble, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

Matt let out a tight, “mhm”, before jumping from the ledge and disappearing into the night. 

“That was mean, Frank.” You sigh, resting your head on his chest. 

“He was hitting on you. I think my reaction was pretty tame. I could’ve bashed his head into that brick wall.” 

“He wasn’t hitting on me. He was asking me out. It was...gentlemanly. And quit being jealous.” You swatted at his chest. 

“I’m not allowed to be jealous when a guy asks my wife out on a date?” 

You rolled your eyes, turning to head down the fire escape when Frank’s arms tightened around you. He peppered kisses down your neck, softly nipping at the sweet spot below your ear. His hand trailed down your stomach, stopping just below your waistline where his fingers began to play with the hem of your underwear. 

“Frank,” you gasped, “what if Matt can still hear us?” 

His voice was a low, silky coil in your gut.  

“Let him. Now, stop talking about other men when my hands are so close to your-” 

A loud clash of metal from a few blocks away cut him off. Matt could definitely still hear you. Frank let out a bark of laughter before devouring you whole, and you couldn’t do anything but try to quiet your moans until you were sure Matt couldn’t possibly hear you anymore. 

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv

[devils-dares]

When the Water Runs Cold Pt 2

summary: grieving is hard, and in this one, Karen gets a little insight on feelings.

warnings: sadness, angst, whiskey

word count: 563

a/n: here's a little softness, i'm sorry.

part one here

-----

“Alright, alright,” the knocking woke you from your slumber, growing louder and louder, “I’m here, quit knocking.” You open the door, rubbing your eyes to see Karen standing there.

“Hi.” She says, giving you a soft smile.

“Hey, Karen, come in.” You open the door a little wider so she can come in.

“I’m gonna go freshen up, feel free to dig around the kitchen.” She nods.

You wash your face, scrubbing the obvious tear stains off, red rimmed eyes staring back at you. You shake your head, slamming the faucet off, and take a deep breath before joining Karen in the living room.

The two of you have been meeting like this since Matt passed. The funeral wasn’t easy for anyone, and you almost didn’t go, still being able to see his face prior to when it had been cleaned for his casket. Foggy and Karen had the luxury of not knowing in what shape he was when he passed, and it wasn’t like you resented them for it, but you took it much harder than the rest.

It’d been months, and your heart still aches like it was yesterday.

“How’s work?” She asks, a simple conversation starter. You tell her what you’ve been up to, what projects your boss has you running around for, and then you turn the question on to her. She answers about the same as yours, claiming practically being a PI for Foggy’s law firm was more difficult than it seemed.

“How’ve you been?” You answer generically, talking on the price of gas and groceries, commenting on rising taxes and inflation.

“You know what I mean,” she presses, “how are you holding up?” You sigh.

“Matt’s dead, Karen. I can’t-” you rub at your eyes, “I can’t feel him here anymore. I can sleep on his side of the bed but his smell and the indent of his body isn’t there anymore. I can shower with his shampoo and it kills my hair, his soap dries my skin. His favorite food tastes like shit now. I can’t feel his hands on my skin anymore, his lips on mine. My husband was taken from me, and you want to ask me how I’m doing?”

“I’m sorry.” She says, itching at her neckline. She’s uncomfortable.

“No,” you say, another deep breath, “I am, I shouldn’t have dumped that on you.”

“It’s totally valid, y’know. But if… if you’re feeling like that, maybe you should talk to someone.”

“Like a therapist?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t just say that my husband was Daredevil and he died a gruesome death.” She says your name in an exasperated tone.

“You don’t have to talk about Matt’s death. You can talk about his life. The things you two enjoyed, your favorite things about him. Grieving is hard.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry.” She swirls the water in her glass around.

“I know you’re grieving him, but New York is grieving Daredevil. He was a good man.”

“I’m not saying he wasn’t, Karen. I just need him here with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You two look at each other and laugh.

“Want a drink?” She stands up, rummaging around the kitchen for glasses.

“It’s ten in the morning.” You say.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She pours out two glasses of Macallan, Matt’s favorite.

“Sláinte.”

“Sláinte.” You two clink your glasses in cheers and drink.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Trial and Error (Matt Murdock x Private Investigator!Wife)

Playing With Fire Part 3! Masterlist

Your first day of trial involves many familiar, yet distant faces.

Warnings: I guess mentions of murder, court cases, unfair treatment from the law system, one slight mention of pregnancy.

You caught a glimpse of his face as he, Karen and Foggy joined you.

Oh that beautiful face, hidden behind a wall of red glass.

Moving towards him wordlessly, you heard the same whimper he'd made when you were being interrogated at the beginning of this nightmare. Nodding to you, Foggy moved Matt's hand to your shoulder as the three of you awkwardly danced around.

"Hi." You crooned, earning a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

"Hi, love." He answered. Voice crack. Even a small flicker of his lips made you want to throw your arms around him, but not here, not now. You had to put on a brave face and keep the interaction professional. Which you'd hated.

"Good to see you, Murdock." A voice called out from next to a pillar. Both you and Matt turned to the name, only you relaxing as you realized who it was.

"Barton?! What are you doing here?" You gave a two-fingered 'salute' from your temple, the sign for 'hello'.

He repeated the action, shaking his head as if to say 'you don't want to know' before continuing on anyways. "They called agent Hill as a witness, given your connection with Ronin in twenty-nineteen."

"Right....that."

"Hey, you've got a good lawyer."

You looked up at Matt with a small smile, before turning back to Clint. "Yes I do, and thanks...for coming today."

"Not a problem."

An awful three words hit you halfway through the trial.

Jury. Paid. Fisk. If he wanted you taken out, he would make sure of it.

Matt must have heard your rising heartbeat, because he took your hand, under the table in his, brushing your wrist briefly. He grimaced as he felt the raw skin where the cuffs had chafed. Squeezing his hand, you focused on his face, noticing the light peppering of stubble on his cheek and the perfectly-combed brown locks you once ran your fingers through. God, you missed him.

Turning your attention back to the trial, Maria was the next called to the stand.

After taking the oath, she faced you for a brief moment.

"Agent Hill." The prosecutor began. "How long have you known y/n Murdock?"

"Since 2012."

"And that was, if I'm not mistaken, the year of the Chitauri invasion? Battle of New York?"

"Yes, it was."

"Do you know what her role was during that time?"

"An agent. She was on the helicarrier bridge, I believe."

"And, in the time that you've known Agent Murdock, has she ever displayed any unwarranted malicious behavior, unaffiliated with the job?"

"Never."

The prosecutor seemed unhappy with the answer.

Oh how you read that tell.

"So tell me, how you would describe y/n?"

"She's got a big heart. Much like her husband, she does the job pro-bono for the more unfortunate. She's never killed a single human being, and never hurt one without justifiable reason."

"And when you say...'without justifiable reason', are you implying that she has, in fact, injured someone?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"When the Winter Soldier attacked her, Steve Rogers and Agent Romanoff once. He got away but not without a shot from Murdock."

"And with the dissipation of S.H.E.I.L.D., is she under protection for any wrongdoing?"

"No, she is not."

"No more questions your honor."

"Mr. Murdock, would you like to cross-examine the witness? The judge asked.

"Ah, yes."

He let go of your hand, standing up and 'feeling' his way around with his cane, stopping in front of the stand.

"Agent Hill. I understand that you are, -were, an agent of S.H.E.I.L.D. Are you by any chance still active in duty?"

"As an assistant to Director Fury, yes."

"And what exactly does Director Fury do?"

"Well, um, we recruit the remaining Avengers concerning large threats, operations, etc."

"So technically, S.H.E.I.L.D. is still in operation?"

"Not exactly. There's very few agents and technology left. Like I said we're more of a recruiting branch."

"Thank you, Agent. I have no more questions, your honor."

You felt like a high schooler having to meet curfew again as you parted ways, getting dragged back to your cage. A small kiss was all the two of you could spare before being pulled away for who knows how long again.

NEW: IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES PLEASE MESSAGE ME!!

@sgt-morgan

[murdock-barnes]

I NEED A MATTHEW MURDOCK ANGST sort of? based on the she hulk episode. so they're like married but he's still this huge player and sleeps with random women when his wife isn't at home, like when he went to LA or whatever he fucked she hulk even when he's in a relationship and she finds out and just breaks down preferably no smut with reader and matty but add whatever u want with him and anyone else ty!!

A Million Heartbreaks

Matt Murdock x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Manwhore Matt(he deserves his own warning lmao), pure angst

Word Count: 1,8K

A/N: Reblogs and comments are sooo appreciated! I really wanna hear what you think of this🥹

You stirred awake upon hearing the door being shut. Confusion and panic filled you for a second but then you remembered that your husband had a late flight. It must have been him.

"Matthew?" you called out.

"Yeah, it's me," his voice came. A relief filled you when you heard his voice, accompanied by deep sorrow.

He entered the bedroom, dropping his suitcase. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

You shook your head no, he could tell. Matt was always so sweet... until he's not.

You sat up, your back on the bedframe. "How was your trip?"

"Uh... it was okay." He was shaking off his clothes as he talked.

"That's it?" you asked. "Tell me more. I would love to hear about She-Hulk. She's so famous these days."

"Yeah... she was cool. Jen is a great lawyer."

"Jen?" you mumbled under your breath.

He noticed the change in your tone but didn't want to further investigate. He was left in his boxers and now slipped under the covers beside you. He seemed ready to sleep.

"I saw the trial, you know? On the news," you said. "Jennifer was talking to the reporters outside the court and I saw you in the back, leaving the building with that designer guy."

"Uh huh."

"You weren't wearing your wedding ring."

Matt's eyes opened. You couldn't hear heartbeats but you knew his got way quicker now.

"Baby..." he started.

“You just can’t help it, can you?" The disappointment in your voice burned his chest. Matt was truly sorry but yes he knew he just couldn't help it.

"What are you talking about?" His brows furrowed. Oh, he was gonna take the highway again.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You couldn't keep it in your pants... AGAIN. You fucked Jennifer."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me... I don't have to explain myself but that did not happen."

There he was. The same old same old.

"I can't believe you..."

"Sweetheart, I swear nothing happened between me and her. Can we just talk about this in the morning?" He closed his eyes and shuffled to get into a more comfortable position.

"Oh my God! You're unbelievable and insufferable!"

He opened his eyes with a huff. His attitude only made you more annoyed and angry.

"Don't even try, Matt. There's a literal video of you leaving her house, doing the walk of shame. Some dude recognized your pathetic ass, filmed it, and put it on Twitter."

"What? That couldn't be me. I was in my hotel room all night."

He was kidding, right? Did he really think you were that dumb?

"I swear to God, if you attempt to gaslight me one more time, I'm gonna smack you so hard in the face."

He squeezed his eyes shut with a grunt. You didn't say a word and just waited for him to admit it. It's always been the same. He cheated, you confronted him, he denied it, and then confessed his sins. The same cat and mouse game.

"I did it." His voice was bitter, guilt dripping from every word. You couldn't give two fucks about his so-called guilt.

You chuckled, knowingly. He did it again despite his promises... and the promises before that... and before that. You gave him another chance every time because you wanted to believe in him. You've seen how determined he could be with his vigilante shit. Maybe he could put the same effort into his marriage. He never did.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what-"

"Shut it!" your voice grew stronger now. Your body was burning with rage and sadness and disappointment.

"How could you, Matt? Again?" You threw off the covers, sitting taller. "I am so sick and tired. I can't take it anymore."

He got up and sit, turning to you. His hands reached yours to hold but you drew them back, away from his touch. You got off the bed and started pacing the room.

"Please, I'll make it up-"

You couldn't stand hearing his whining, honestly. "Oh, stop it! It's the same thing every time. You go fuck around and come back, begging me to forgive you. You have no fucking respect for me, let alone love! I've had enough."

He pouted "Don't say that, you know I love you."

"No, you don't... No. If you were, you wouldn't do any of this."

He got up quickly and before you know it, he was at your feet, groveling. His forehead hit the ground and his hands grabbed your ankles. "I'll pray. I'll confess and repent my sins. Please, forgive me. I truly am sorry. Please."

Was he fucking for real? You backed away, slipping away from his clutch.

"You're such a good Catholic boy, aren't you? Catholic, my ass! Your conscience only seems to be working when it comes to killing but adultery and lying are okay, huh?"

A pained grunt came from him but he stayed in the same position. "I know, I'm a horrible person. I've made a mistake again. Please, take me back."

"You said it was a mistake with Claire, too and it was just one time with Karen. And Elektra... don't even get me started on her." You took in a sharp breath. Tears were burning your eyes. "You always went back to her. Whenever you were in trouble, you didn't come to me. Instead, you went into her arms."

He was silent as he sat up, taking his head between his hands.

"I don't know... maybe I am the problem. Maybe I couldn't give you the comfort that a wife should've given but I tried my best, Matt. You didn't even try." Your voice cracked in the last part and tears started to spill down your face.

"No... no. It's not you. You've been nothing but supportive and loving to me. I... I ruin everything." He swallowed hard with that lump in his throat. He hated seeing you sad and especially knowing that he was the one that was making you sad.

"You can't just say you ruin everything and move on with your life being an impending doom, Matt. You gave up. You're not even trying to be better. I've been on my own in this marriage for a long time now."

You sat on the bed with a huff. How did your relationship turn into this? It was all so sweet in the beginning. That night at the bar changed your life. This handsome, mysterious stranger approached you, buying you a drink. Honestly, you just wanted a free drink but the conversation hooked you. He was a charming man and a dangerous one. It felt like he was luring you into dark, shady waters but he was oh-so-sweet.

It was a month into your relationship when you found out he was the devil of Hell's Kitchen. One night, he stumbled into your apartment, beaten up and bloody. You spent the rest of the night tending his wounds. For you, it was hard to accept that he was risking his life out there every night. Somehow you got used to it.

Three months after getting married, you got promoted at work. Everything was so great, you were so happy. However, now your position required you to travel sometimes and you hated being away from Matt.

It was one of those nights that you came from a trip. Matt wasn't home so you just changed and decided to wait for him. You poured yourself a glass of wine and right when you were about to sit on the couch, something caught your eye. You leaned down to check. There was a red thong beside the couch, almost under it. Your body froze, all the air in your lungs emptying. It definitely wasn't yours. When you confronted Matt about it, he refused to recognize the underwear. Shocking! He even claimed that it was yours. That was your first big fight and when you find out about Claire.

There have been more work trips and more women. You only knew about Claire, Karen, and Elektra but you were certain that there were so much more. Why was he doing this? Why having you wasn't enough?

"Was I ever enough for you, Matthew?"

Matt never ever heard your voice so broken. He was drowning in your sadness while the taste of your tears filled the room.

"I gave you all of me and I did it gladly. I love you with all my heart, all my existence. We took a vow. We swore before God. We promised to honor each other." Your voice was barely a whisper now but he heard you loud and clear.

You fiddled with your ring, it almost burned your flesh now. "We promised to wear these rings to show our love and faithfulness."

Matt was sitting there silently and tears were falling out of his eyes. He was well aware that he fucked up. He ruined the best thing in his life. He made his one and only's heart bleed.

You were just sitting there contemplating the broken shards that were your marriage. You never loved anyone as much as you loved him. Hell, that was probably the only reason you kept forgiving him. He was a good man, you knew but he was in a constant battle with his demons. He would sometimes be off the rails but he always came back to you.

How long could you do this? How many more women? All these years, he trampled down your honor and dignity in the name of love and mistakes but no more.

No more.

You took a deep breath in and got up. It might've looked like a simple movement but it took all your courage and what's left of your dignity. You wouldn't take this man's disrespect and dishonesty anymore. Matt's head snapped in your direction, following every little movement.

You walked to the front door, grabbing your purse and coat. When Matt realized what was happening, he was by your side before you know it.

"Baby, please don't go. Let's just talk." He grabbed you by the waist and tried to halt your motion.

You tried to shrug him off but his hold was strong. "There's nothing to talk about. Let me go."

Matt's heart was breaking into million pieces. The idea of you leaving him... the idea of moving on with his life without you... he wished he could take back the time and undo every misdeed he committed.

"Don't leave me. Please... I'll change... for good this time, I swear. Baby, please don't do this to me."

His words burned through your chest. Even though he broke your heart a million times, you still felt sad because he was sad. His pretty face was contorted in pain. His unfocused eyes were filled with tears. You wanted to reach and wipe his tears away, give him a kiss and hug him.

No more.

"I'm done, Matt. I can't do this anymore. I don't deserve to be treated like this. I never did." You freed yourself from his grip and opened the door.

He fell onto his knees with a sob. "Please..."

You took in the view in front of you, feeling pity for him. Right before you walked out of the door, you said "Sign the divorce papers when they arrive."

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

A Little Angel (Or Devil?) Chapter 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Story Summary: Matt and Reader, happily married at the end of Angel of God, my Guardian Dear, start the next chapter in their life together -- parenthood.

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Unprotected Sex (I mean obviously, Matt and Reader are trying for a baby), Pregnancy and all that comes with it, no graphic depiction of childbirth

Word Count: ~1250

A/N: I realized that I didn't have anything to post for Valentine's Day, so here's the first chapter of the AoG sequel! We're starting out spicy, lol. 😏🔥

As always, let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Matt Murdock smiled as he got dressed for work, the sound of his wife muttering to herself as she fiddled with the ice maker on their new refrigerator three floors down filling him with happiness.

He and Y/N had been married about a month and a half and had been slowly getting their 4-story townhouse -- the dream home that Matt had surprised Y/N with as a wedding gift -- situated and furnished, starting with their bedroom then moving down to the first floor before working their way back up.

He chuckled as Y/N made a sound of triumph, the ice maker finally doing what she wanted it to do.

He finished tying his tie and made his way downstairs, heading into the kitchen where Y/N was now standing at the counter packing her lunch while waiting for her iced coffee to finish brewing.

Y/N turned and gave him a kiss. “Morning, husband.”

Matt smiled as he kissed her back. “Mmm. Morning, wife.” 

Y/N began to move back towards their coffee maker. “I think I managed to get the voice control on the refrigerator programmed.”

“Oh, great --” Matt's brow furrowed. “Hey, wait a second.”

Y/N paused. “What's up?”

Matt moved behind her and nuzzled her neck. “Are you using a new body wash?”

Y/N hummed, tilting her head to the side to give Matt better access. “No, it's the same one I've always used. Why?”

Matt shrugged. “You smell different.”

“Huh, that's odd. I haven't switched anything -- still using the same body wash, same shampoo, same antiperspirant… I haven't even used a different lotion since I found that one that doesn't overwhelm your senses.”

Matt shook his head and nuzzled Y/N's neck again, the change in her scent awakening something primal in him. “I'm not complaining, angel.”

He grazed her pulse point with his teeth before soothing the spot with a kiss. “It's actually really turning me on.”

Y/N let out a soft whimper, the sound sending shockwaves straight to Matt's cock. “Matt, baby, unless you want to be late for court I suggest you not do that, because I will drag you back upstairs to our bedroom and have my wicked way with you.”

Matt chuckled lowly before wrapping one hand around Y/N’s waist while creeping his other one under the dress she wore. “Who said we have to go all the way upstairs, angel? Who said I can't just fuck you right here in our kitchen?”

He slid his hand inside Y/N’s underwear and slipped a finger between her weeping folds, groaning at the slickness that coated his digit. “Mmm, especially when you're already this needy for me.”

Y/N gasped and gripped the counter, the scent of her arousal becoming even stronger. “Matt, Matty, baby, please…”

Matt lightly circled her bud with his fingertip. “Is that a yes, sweetheart?”

Y/N moaned as she reached under her dress to pull her underwear down. “Yes, Matthew, fuck. Want your cock inside me.”

Matt unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock.

He gave himself a few strokes and lined up with Y/N’s entrance before easily sliding inside her.

He groaned as Y/N’s walls tightened around him. “Jesus , angel, you feel incredible.”

Y/N gasped. “God, so do you, Matty. Need you to fuck me, please.”

Matt pulled out until just his tip remained inside Y/N then slowly pushed back in. “Like this, sweetheart?”

He could feel the displacement of air as Y/N vigorously shook her head. “Want it hard and deep, Matty.”

Matt let out a low rumble from deep in his chest. “Oh yeah? Want a reminder of who this cunt belongs to?”

Y/N clenched around him. “Uh huh. Want to still feel you inside me while I’m sitting at my desk at work today.”

Matt pulled out once again then slammed his hips upwards, Y/N’s cry of ecstasy music to his ears.

Y/N hands flew out and grasped the counter. “Fuck -- need it just like that, baby, please.”

Matt began to fuck her in a rough pace, Y/N’s hips slamming back into him with each thrust. “Christ, sweetheart, I can feel you clenching around me. You're so fucking close already, aren't you, angel?”

Y/N’s head fell back against Matt's shoulder, one of her hands reaching up to caress his cheek. “Uh huh, feels so good, Matty. Want you to come inside me, fill me up.”

Matt growled then reached down and picked Y/N’s leg up to bend her against the counter, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper into her. “Touch yourself for me.”

Y/N’s hand that had been caressing Matt's face reached down to rub her bud. “Fuck, Matt, right there, sweetheart, don't stop, please --”

Matt groaned, the combination of Y/N’s desire for him and whatever was different about her scent making his head spin. “I gotcha, angel, gonna leave you full just like you need.”

He snaked his hand that was gripping her hip up to her neck, applying a gentle pressure around her throat. “Be a good wife and come for me, Y/N.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she tightened around him. “Matt, yes-- ”

Matt slammed his hips upwards into Y/N one last time with a groan, his cock releasing stream after stream of his seed deep inside her as she came around him. 

Y/N slumped against the counter, panting.

Matt carefully set Y/N’s leg down, making sure she remained steady on her feet. “You okay, angel?”

Y/N sighed blissfully. “Never fucking better.”

Matt chuckled then carefully pulled out of her, tucking himself back into his pants before grabbing a paper towel and dampening it so he could clean Y/N up.

He tilted his head to the side as he heard Y/N pull her underwear back up, his nostrils flaring at the scent of their mixed release soaking the fabric. “Are you…”

Y/N turned and gave him a kiss. “I told you I wanted to still feel you inside me while I was sitting at my desk at work today.”

Matt's spent cock gave a feeble twitch of interest. “I swear if I didn't have court today I'd be dragging you back upstairs to bed.”

Y/N buttoned and zipped Matt's pants up for him then adjusted his tie. “Mmm, raincheck for tonight?”

Matt nodded as he buckled his belt. “Court should adjourn pretty early today, so how about I make something special for dinner and we can have a date night in the garden? And we can sit on the swing Aunt Ruth gave us as a housewarming gift since it's finally starting to warm up outside.”

Y/N slid her hands down Matt's back and gently squeezed the globes of his ass. “That sounds perfect, Matty. Love you.”

Matt grinned as she handed him a travel mug of coffee. “Love you too, angel. See you tonight.”

Y/N gave him a kiss. “Now go get ‘em, counselor.”

Matt grabbed his briefcase off of the end table in the foyer and headed out the door, hurrying to catch a cab so he wouldn't actually be late for work. He still couldn't figure out what was different about Y/N’s scent, but it had certainly been a fun way to start the morning.