#Matt murdock x reader

[inkdrinkerworld]

Pillowfight with the prompt “seriously? you’ve lived here for how many years, and you still can’t find your way around without the lights on?” And roommate!matt murdock plsss 🙏

oh oh roommate!matt who still hasn't told his roommate about his extracurricular activities

"Oh fuck," you groan as you walk into the edge of your dining room table. "What the fuck is that doing there?" You're just trying to get a glass of water before bed, the dining room table being in your way is inconvenient.

It's late and you don't want to turn on the light because you'll feel guilty if Matt wakes up.

You heard him come in a little over an hour ago, and he's on some sort of very weird schedule that has him coming home until nearly three in the morning, every day.

That plan goes to rubbish when you walk into the table again with your glass of water and dig the edge of the table into your hip again. "Fuck's sake."

"Y/n?" Matt opens his bedroom door, sleep coating his voice and you feel terrible for waking him up.

"Sorry, Matty. Bumped into the fucking table again."

Matt chuckles, tired albeit amused. "Seriously? You’ve lived here for how many years, and you still can’t find your way around without the lights on?"

"I know," you whine, shaking your head at your own ridiculousness. "I'm really sorry about waking you up, Matt. Go back to bed."

He shakes his head, "Will it bruise?"

You shrug, "Probably will, I'm serious Matthew. Go back to bed."

"Try to not walk into it again, sweetheart. And take your vitamin c, your last bruise is still there and terrible."

You walk back to your bedroom, wondering the whole time how Matt knows that your bruise from two weeks ago is still terrible and sore.

[freakrenaissance]

Hot damn! Been awhile since I read a daredevil fic, & this was sooo yummy! I love these two! So romantic & hot! Matty's senses during the spicy scene? Oof... that was brilliant 🤤

— sex concept

summary: You and Matt have wanted to take things to the next level, but every time you try to get intimate, something, or someone, interrupts.

word count: 4.1k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: at this point, i think i need to make a series masterlist for these two, lol. here's the third installment - and here are the first two: goodnight n go and love language

also, sex concept is one of my favorite songs, and it's by sofia isella. i recommend you go check her out!

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, making out, peter parker, mention of other marvel characters, matt's a little shit, smut, oral (f!receiving), brief handjob, unprotected piv, creampie

matt murdock masterlist

It wasn’t like you and Matt hadn’t been alone since you started dating. But somehow, every single attempt at finally taking things further kept getting inconveniently interrupted.

Like now, for instance.

Matt’s lips skimmed along your neck, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist. You sighed softly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Matty," you whispered.

He hummed against your skin, nudging your jaw with his nose. "Yeah?"

"Can we—"

Your sentence was abruptly cut short by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Matt paused, a quiet groan muffled against your collarbone. "Ignore it."

You hesitated. "But what if—"

"It’s probably nothing," he murmured, lips brushing your pulse. "Leave it."

It kept ringing. You sighed, gently pushing at his shoulders. "It’ll only take a second. Just let me silence it."

Matt exhaled sharply, moving back slightly as you reached over and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Glancing at the screen, you rolled your eyes.

"Work," you muttered, annoyed. You answered quickly. "This better be an emergency."

"Y/N," Levi’s voice crackled through the line, anxious. "I’m so sorry—"

"What happened?"

"Uh... you know how we were testing the new phase-array sensors tonight?"

"Levi."

"Well, it shorted. Everything’s offline. And the readings are… weird."

You groaned softly, pressing your fingers to your forehead. "I’ll be there in half an hour." You hung up, sighing again as you tossed your phone onto the bed.

Matt shifted beside you. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m sorry," you muttered. "It’s—"

"Work," Matt finished gently. He tilted his head, clearly amused. "You know, I think Stark Industries has a personal vendetta against us."

You huffed, tugging your shirt back into place. "I’ll make it up to you. I promise."

Matt leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours quickly. "You better."

You rolled your eyes, reluctantly climbing off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Matt fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, his smirk unmistakable. "I'll hold you to that, angel."

---

A few days later, Matt had just managed to maneuver you against the kitchen counter, lips claiming yours fiercely. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Then, abruptly, a loud knock at his apartment door broke the silence. Matt froze, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder with a frustrated exhale.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered.

"Ignore it," he whispered, kissing your neck gently.

The knocking grew louder.

"Murdock!" Foggy's muffled voice echoed through the wood. "Come on, man, open up! I know you're home!"

Matt sighed heavily, pulling away. "He'll keep going until I answer."

You slumped against the counter dramatically. "I swear he has a sixth sense."

Matt smiled apologetically. "This'll be quick."

You folded your arms, watching as Matt made his way to the door, cracking it open just enough to speak. "Foggy. Bad timing."

"Yeah, sorry, I lost the deposition file," Foggy admitted sheepishly. "I need your copy."

Matt sighed, turning his head toward you slightly. "Give me a minute."

You threw your hands up, shooting him a pointed glare. Matt smiled, mouthing sorry before slipping out the door.

---

It had almost become a joke at this point. Every single time the two of you finally got a moment alone, something managed to interrupt.

You and Karen were at Josie’s, waiting for Matt and Foggy to arrive.

“Wanna tell me why you seem so pent up?” Karen asked, taking a drink of her beer.

You sighed, swirling your drink in the glass. "Because apparently, the universe hates me."

Karen raised a brow, amused. "That's dramatic, even for you."

"No, I'm serious," you insisted, leaning closer. "Every single time Matt and I are about to—" You paused, realizing you'd almost said too much. "Spend any sort of actual alone time together, something always interrupts."

Karen smirked knowingly, taking another sip. "Oh. That kind of pent up."

You glared at her. "Shut up."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Sorry, it's just funny. You two spend practically all your time together. I'm surprised you even have that problem."

"Yeah, well, apparently work, Foggy, and fate itself have formed an alliance against us," you muttered bitterly.

"Have you tried just… telling people not to bother you?" Karen teased.

You scoffed. "We tried that. Believe me, it doesn't work."

Karen hummed sympathetically. "Well, if it's any consolation, I promise to never intentionally interrupt your... alone time."

"Thanks," you replied dryly, "that’s very generous."

She grinned. "Hey, I do what I can."

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Foggy walked in, Matt close behind him. You caught Matt’s slight smile as he tilted his head toward you, making his way through the crowd.

Karen nudged you playfully. "Better luck tonight?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop a small smile. "I doubt it, but thanks for the optimism."

Matt stepped up beside you, his hand automatically finding your waist. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Sorry we're late."

You sighed dramatically. "Don't worry about it. At this point, I'm used to it."

Matt chuckled softly, squeezing your side. "Tonight'll be different. Promise."

Karen snorted into her drink. "Good luck with that."

You glared at her again, and she raised her hands innocently.

Matt's brow furrowed, sensing the tension. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all," Karen said, grinning widely. "Y/N was just filling me in on your streak of bad luck."

Matt’s lips quirked upward. "Oh. That."

Foggy looked between the three of you, utterly lost. "Am I missing something here?"

You shook your head, patting Foggy on the shoulder. "Trust me, Fog. You're better off not knowing."

---

Matt’s apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. The blinds were drawn shut, the place cloaked in comfortable darkness. You dropped your keys onto the entry table, taking off your jacket and hanging it beside Matt’s familiar black coat.

"Matty?" you called softly, stepping further into the apartment.

"Bedroom," came his muffled reply.

You kicked off your shoes, padding down the hall until you reached his room. Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a clean shirt. He looked relaxed, freshly showered, hair still damp and slightly messy. He tilted his head in your direction, lips curving into a gentle smile.

"Hey," he said softly.

You smiled, stepping toward him. "Hi."

Matt reached for you, fingers easily catching your wrist and tugging you closer, his hands settling comfortably at your hips. "How was work?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "The usual Stark chaos. Nothing new."

His lips twitched. "So no interruptions planned tonight?"

You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down the side of his face. "Not that I know of. Unless Foggy’s about to burst through the door."

Matt smiled, tilting his head slightly into your palm. "Not tonight. He and Karen have dinner plans."

"Thank God," you muttered.

Matt chuckled softly, pulling you gently closer so you were standing between his legs. His thumbs brushed lightly against your sides. "You hungry?"

You shook your head slightly, leaning down until your forehead rested against his. "Not really."

"Good," Matt whispered, voice low and warm. "Me either."

You smiled softly, tracing your fingertips over the curve of his jaw. His hands slid beneath your shirt, settling warmly against your lower back. You inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he guided your lips down to his own.

The kiss was gentle at first, soft and unhurried. Matt’s lips brushed yours slowly, carefully, as if savoring every moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pressing closer.

Matt sighed against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, guiding you down until you settled comfortably across his lap. Your arms looped around his shoulders, your bodies pressed close enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Matt," you whispered breathlessly against his lips, smiling faintly. "If my phone rings, I swear—"

Matt’s quiet laughter cut you off, his mouth skimming along your jaw. "I’ll throw it out the window myself."

You huffed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. "Promises, promises, Murdock."

Matt smirked against your skin, his voice low and teasing. "Careful, sweetheart. I might hold you to that."

You laughed quietly, tangling your fingers in his hair again and pulling him back to your lips. For the first time in weeks, there were no interruptions—just you, Matt, and the steady, comforting quiet of his apartment.

But, of course, it could never be that easy.

A knock rattled on a window in the living room.

Matt froze, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me."

You groaned, your fingers tangling into his hair. "I swear, this is a cosmic joke at this point."

The knocking grew louder, quicker, more urgent. Matt sighed, lifting his head reluctantly. "Who even—"

A muffled voice called from outside, high-pitched and apologetic. "Uh... Mister Murdock? It’s—it's me, Peter. Spider-Man? Sorry, I just—I kinda need help."

You raised a brow. "Spider-Man knocks now?"

Matt sighed deeply. "Apparently."

You stood up from Matt’s lap, fixing your shirt as Matt slowly stood beside you, annoyance radiating off him.

Peter tapped again, more sheepishly this time. "Hello? Uh—Matt?"

"Coming," Matt called, moving toward the window with a heavy sigh.

You followed behind, crossing your arms as Matt slid the window open. Peter awkwardly crawled inside, tugging off his mask with a nervous grimace.

"Hey, Mr. Murdock," he mumbled, turning to you. "Hey, Y/N. Sorry if this is a bad time, but—"

"Is the city actively on fire?" Matt cut in, voice flat.

Peter hesitated. "Well, no, but—"

"Is anyone dying?" Matt continued.

Peter shifted nervously. "No, but I—"

Matt folded his arms, visibly unimpressed. "Is Stark Tower currently collapsing into a giant sinkhole?"

Peter blinked. "What? No."

Matt nodded slowly. "Then this probably could’ve waited."

Peter flushed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it could’ve. But I, uh... I kinda panicked.”

You sighed, stepping toward Peter. "What happened, Pete?"

Peter winced, holding up his web-shooter. "It, um... jammed. And I can’t get it off."

Matt tilted his head, incredulous. "You came to me—at my apartment—at night—because your web-shooter jammed?"

Peter swallowed nervously. "I tried everyone else, Mr. Murdock. Literally everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everyone?"

"Doctor Strange yelled at me for disturbing his 'cosmic meditation,' Happy sent me straight to voicemail, Mr. Wilson laughed for a full two minutes before hanging up, and Pepper’s voicemail said she’s out of town." Peter said quickly. "You two were my last option."

You glanced at Matt, suppressing a smile at his annoyed expression. "Alright, fine," you sighed. "Let me see it."

Peter held his arm out gratefully, relaxing as you started examining the device. Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You realize I’m blind, right?"

Peter flushed deeper. "Well, yeah, but you're like... you're Daredevil."

Matt’s jaw ticked slightly. "And?"

"And," Peter swallowed, voice small, "and I’m really, really sorry for interrupting your night. Again."

Matt sighed heavily, shaking his head as you fiddled with the shooter.

"Got it," you finally announced, popping the jammed cartridge free and handing it back to him. "All fixed."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Thank you so much. Really, I—"

"Pete," Matt interrupted gently. "Go home."

Peter nodded quickly, already halfway back out the window. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Goodnight Mr. Murdock, Y/N."

He vanished just as fast as he’d appeared, leaving silence behind him.

Matt tilted his head back toward you, annoyance fading into amusement. "How much do you think it'd cost to soundproof these windows?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him again. "Worth every penny, honestly."

Matt smiled, tugging you back toward him, fingertips brushing your waist. "Where were we?"

You grimaced. “Actually… Peter’s webshooter’s reminded me of—”

“—Ramen.” Matt cut in.

Your eyebrows raised, “how’d you know?”

Matt chuckled softly, his fingertips brushing your hip gently. "Because anytime Peter shows up, it means your brain starts spinning with work and you always end up craving ramen afterward."

You huffed, poking his chest lightly. "You make me sound predictable."

He tilted his head, amused. "Am I wrong?"

"No," you muttered begrudgingly. "But you don't have to sound so smug about it."

Matt's lips twitched into a smirk. "Can't help it."

You sighed, stepping back slightly. "Come on, let's go get ramen before they close."

"Alright," Matt conceded, grabbing his coat. "But you're buying, since it's your fault."

"My fault?" you repeated incredulously as you slipped on your shoes.

"Your spider-friend, your problem," Matt teased lightly, holding the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes fondly. "He's everyone's spider-friend, Matty."

"Well, everyone doesn't get their evening interrupted like we do."

You linked your arm through his as you stepped outside. "Sounds like someone's still bitter."

Matt hummed softly. "Just hungry."

"Whatever you say, devil boy," you said with a smirk.

He laughed quietly, squeezing your arm lightly. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

---

It had taken another two weeks, three false alarms, and one very apologetic Spider-Man before you and Matt finally managed to find yourselves completely alone, no distractions in sight.

"Door?" Matt asked, murmuring against your lips, his voice husky and quiet.

"Locked," you whispered back.

"Phone?"

"On silent."

Matt smiled against your mouth. "Windows?"

You sighed, pulling back slightly. "Closed. Matt, relax. Everything’s handled."

He chuckled softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you back in. "Just making sure."

You smiled, sliding your arms around his neck and playing with the soft hair at his nape. "At this point, I think we've earned tonight."

Matt hummed quietly, brushing his lips gently along your jaw. "I’m not letting anyone interrupt us tonight, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers tightening gently in his hair. "Good. Because I might actually murder whoever tries."

He laughed softly, nudging your nose lightly with his own. "Noted."

You tugged gently at his shirt, pulling him backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You sat down slowly, smiling as Matt followed you without hesitation, settling himself carefully above you.

"You’re sure no spider-kid’s gonna come tapping at the window tonight?" you teased softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

He tilted his head slightly, smiling down at you. "I might actually lose my patience with him if he does."

You laughed quietly, hooking your legs around his hips and tugging him closer. "So fierce, devil boy."

Matt leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "Only for you."

Warmth pooled in your stomach at the softness in his voice, your heart thudding in your chest as you pulled him into a slow, deep kiss.

His lips moved carefully, tenderly, hands slipping beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin, tracing gentle circles along your waist. You sighed softly against his lips, your fingertips trailing down his chest to find the hem of his shirt.

Matt pulled back slightly, just enough to let you pull his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His lips found yours again immediately, kissing you with renewed urgency, his skin warm under your hands.

"Still good?" he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, breath catching. "Better than."

His hands slid slowly up your sides, under your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin until he reached the hem and pulled it up and off you. The second it hit the floor, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. Tongue slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, then pulled back just enough to speak.

"Lie back for me, angel."

You obeyed without hesitation, stretching across the bed, propped up slightly on your elbows as Matt’s hands found your thighs. He knelt between them, head tilted, his expression unreadable but focused. You could feel the weight of his attention even without his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "I can feel every little shift in your breathing, hear your heartbeat changing every time I touch you. You're driving me insane."

Your breath caught as his palms slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing gently into the muscle. He leaned in slowly, trailing soft kisses along the inside of your knee, up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You gasped quietly when he nuzzled higher, the stubble on his jaw catching against your skin. One of his hands gripped your thigh, the other pressing a warm palm flat against your stomach, grounding.

"You want this?" he asked softly, mouth brushing right against the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you breathed, eyes fluttering. "Matty, please."

That was all it took. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, dragging the fabric down your legs with excruciating slowness, kissing each new inch of skin he exposed. Once they were gone, he settled between your legs like he belonged there.

You squirmed, breathless already. Matt’s hands eased your thighs wider, lips brushing the softest kisses down the crease of your hip. Then lower.

His tongue flicked out, teasing, and you gasped, head dropping back against the pillow.

"Fuck," you whispered.

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, the sound warm against your skin. "That good already, sweetheart?"

Then he buried his mouth between your thighs. No warning, no hesitation. Just heat and tongue and pressure that had your back arching off the bed.

"Ah—Matty," you choked out, hands scrambling for his hair, needing something to hold onto as his tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.

He groaned like he tasted the sound you made, hands anchoring you, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs as he worked.

You were already dripping for him, and he didn’t let up, tongue pressing and curling in ways that made your entire body tremble. He knew exactly how to read you—the way your hips twitched, the way your moans caught, the way your breath stuttered when he sucked just right.

Your thighs started to shake.

"Matty—oh god—please don’t stop," you gasped, one hand flying to muffle your mouth, the other tangled in his messy hair.

He didn't stop.

He doubled down.

His mouth moved faster, tongue fucking into you before flattening and dragging slow, greedy circles over your clit, sucking just hard enough to make you cry out.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna—" Your whole body tensed, thighs clamping, and Matt growled against you, holding you open, not letting you go anywhere.

"Let go," he murmured against your soaked skin. "Come on, angel. Come for me."

You shattered.

It hit hard, sharp and overwhelming, your hips jerking as the orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, hands fisting in the sheets, breath breaking as your body shook.

Matt held you through every second of it, mouth softening but never leaving you, licking you through the aftershocks with slow, lazy strokes until you finally whimpered, pushing weakly at his head.

He kissed your inner thigh one last time before crawling back up, settling his weight gently over you, mouth slick and smile smug.

"Hi," he murmured.

You huffed a laugh, dazed and breathless. "You’re such a menace."

"You love it," he said, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

"Maybe," you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "Come here."

He kissed you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His body pressed heavy and warm against yours, one hand slipping down to cradle your thigh, the other bracing next to your head.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer.

"Your turn, devil boy."

Matt's breath caught. His body stilled above yours, tension rolling through his shoulders like a current. He tilted his head slightly, and you could feel him—feel the way he honed in on every shift of your breath, the thump of your pulse, the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

"Say it again," he murmured.

You smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his spine. "Your turn."

Matt groaned softly, low and wrecked, like the words hit somewhere primal. One of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he leaned in, voice rough. "Tell me if anything's too much."

"Matty," you whispered, hips rolling up against the bulge still trapped in his pants, "I want all of it."

His mouth crashed back onto yours—hot, open, desperate. You tasted yourself on his lips, still slick and wet from where he’d had his mouth on you, and it made something in your gut twist up tight.

His hands were everywhere—your ribs, your thighs, your throat. Always so fucking careful, even when he was losing control. Even now, his fingers trembled where they gripped your hip.

"Take 'em off," you whispered against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his knees, hands fumbling at his belt. You watched him—bare chest rising with each shaky breath, flushed, lips red from kissing you senseless, hair sticking up like you’d dragged your fingers through it one too many times. The second he shoved his pants low, you saw the outline of him, thick and hard, the head already leaking.

You bit your lip. "God, Matty."

He huffed a breathless laugh, cocky but a little shaky. "You looking at me like that isn’t helping."

"I like what I see."

Matt didn’t answer—just leaned in again, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself. He stroked slow, base to tip, teasing himself while he hovered over you, breath hot against your cheek.

You reached down, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Let me."

He let you take over, groaning softly when your hand wrapped around him. You stroked him slowly, dragging your thumb over the head, spreading the precum, watching the way his jaw flexed.

"You feel so fucking good," you whispered.

Matt's voice was strangled. "You keep doing that and this is gonna be over before it starts."

You laughed softly, but let go, guiding him instead—his hips nudging between your legs, cock heavy and hot, head sliding wet over your slit. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you whispered, fingers curling in his hair. "Matty, please."

He pushed in slow. The stretch was deep, thick, dragging your walls open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a shaky groan.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your throat. "You feel... Jesus."

You were gasping, clinging to his shoulders, your body trying to adjust around him. It wasn’t your first time. Wasn’t his either. But it was your first time together. And it was already better than anything you'd felt before.

Matt didn’t move right away. He just held there, forehead pressed to your shoulder, one hand braced by your head and the other gripping your thigh like it grounded him.

"Matty," you whispered. "Move. Please."

He did.

A slow pull, then a push, dragging back in with a rhythm that felt like it was made just for you. He moaned into your neck, his voice thick with want. "So fucking tight—"

Your nails bit into his skin as he picked up pace, shallow thrusts turning deeper, faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, slick and wet and obscene. You couldn't stop the noises leaving your mouth, couldn't quiet the little cries every time he hit that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

"You’re perfect," he panted. "Every sound you make—fuck, I can feel them. Hear 'em in your throat, in your chest—"

"Matt—"

"I’ve wanted this," he groaned, fucking into you harder now, the bed creaking beneath both of you. "You. For years. Always thought about you. Touching you. Making you come on my cock."

Your breath stuttered. "Holy fuck, Matty—"

"Come for me," he growled, his thumb finding your clit and circling, firm and fast. "Right now. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear how you sound when you fall apart."

You didn’t stand a chance. Your orgasm hit hard, sudden, crashing through you with a strangled cry, your legs tightening around his waist.

Matt cursed, fucking you through it, hips stuttering as he groaned, low and wrecked. "Shit—gonna come—fuck—"

He slammed in deep and came with a gasp, cock pulsing inside you, heat spilling as his whole body trembled above you. He collapsed onto his forearms, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.

"Jesus," you whispered, still shaking.

Matt laughed, soft and breathless. "Yeah. That about covers it."

You grinned, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. "Worth the wait."

His lips found yours again, soft now, lingering.

"Every second."

And for once, nothing interrupted.

if you have any requests with these two, don't be afraid to send in an ask!!

[flutterbabee]

I like to think Matt would be really into stockings; he already loves your legs, but there's just something about grazing his fingers against smooth and soft fabric that really gets him going. Just feeling all of the textured grooves and stitching. He'd also definitely enjoy the glittery ones for that exact reason. Matt also likes to pinch at the fabric because he likes how it makes him feel so close to actually touching you, but there's that layer of cloth; it's so fragile and would be easy to rip apart, but he doesn't. It's the principle of it, really, because he'd be lying if he said he didn't like being teased a bit, like he's being tested. It's even tougher for him when you're straddling him and you're so close to sinking down on his cock, but there's that fabric. It's right there, right there! And he could just pull you down and rip it himself, but he doesn't because when he finally gets to slide them down your legs, it's like he's getting what he's worked so nicely for.

[monimccoythings]

Husband!Matt Murdock Headcanons

I feel like I want to compensate for this man, he is just an absolute disaster of a human being, a nuclear bomb for relationships, I love him. Loosely tied to these headcanons, may count as a prequel.

Husband!Matt Murdock who you met in college after the whole Elektra fiasco. He was moping and wanted to get her out of his system, swearing he would never fall in love again. Whelp. Turns out meeting you helped him heal in more ways than you could count.

Husband!Matt Murdock who always takes care of you because he knows you get so engrossed in your work you forget about everything else. Which is hilarious coming from him because he does exactly the same, so you take care of him in return. You balance each other pretty well.

Husband!Matt Murdock who loves when you pass by the office with coffee and food during your break to make sure your boys (and girl) don't starve themselves to death.

Husband!Matt Murdock who never told you about being a vigilante, because you figured it out yourself. He had saved you more than enough times for you to realize, and it was pretty obvious those cuts and wounds were not from him tripping. Because he is not that clumsy. "Jesus Christ, Matt the other day you grabbed a soccer ball without even turning around and you expect me to believe you fell down the stairs?"

Husband!Matt Murdock who becomes overly protective of you now that you know his secret. Since you have become one of the select few that know his identity as Daredevil, you will want to be more involved in his vigilante work and he cannot have that.

Husband!Matt Murdock who sometimes has to cancel plans or take rain checks with you because he can't for the love of God have a healthy work-life-vigilantism balance. You try to understand, because his vigilante work means a lot to him and that's who he is, you would never ask him to give it up for you. The only thing you ask for is for him to be careful. Though you can't help but feel a bit disappointed knowing you will never hold a place in his heart like this city does.

Husband!Matt Murdock who does everything in his power to make it up to you. And when he does... Oh boy, either you get the most romantic date ever or the wildest kinkiest night of passion of your life, or both.

Husband!Matt Murdock who tries to not show his Devil side to you. He doesn't want to hurt you ever, no matter how much you insist. The Devil is a part of him as well and he deserves as much love as his civilian side. You just have to drill it through his thick skull.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

bed chem | m. murdock

a/n: hey guys guess who's back with a matt one shot! i started this a loooong time ago so i decided to finally finish it!! not much to add other than hi guys i've missed you so much and am excited to be back in my writing weird and quirky readers era. so. enjoy!! maybe if anyone's interested in reading a part two, i can write one. warnings: 18+, Smut, lots of flirting and pining, reader being emotionally unavailable and way too insecure, matt being flirty and dom, lots of pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, one kid), no one's ever made the reader cum, reader is super effing poor, has two jobs, hates her job, age gap, lowkey just strangers hooking up. lots of teasing, lots of banter, reader says 'hooker' a lot, matt makes you an offer you can't refuse, probably some other stuff i'm forgetting but isn't that kind of our deal by now? wordcount: 4.6k summary: A handsome stranger makes an otherwise dull and annoying night worth your while. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: bed chem - sabrina carpenter "come right on me, i mean camaraderie/said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be/where art thou? why not uponeth me?/see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy."

You meet Matthew at a party.

Your story starts like so many do.

Music is playing, people are chattering all around you. More than that, you feel out of place. You clutch your champagne glass immaturely, unsure how you’re supposed to hold it.

How did you get dragged here, anyways?

Wasn’t there some shitty early 2000’s apocalypse movie and an edible that you needed to attend to? Didn’t you long to order shitty bar food and use your vibrator for hours? Wasn’t there something, anything more important than your attendance to this party?

It’s too fancy for you, anyways.

Yeah, sure, your degree sits framed on your wall, but your soul tells you that you’re no academic, that if you wanted to go to a party, you deserve to be at a house party in your shitty neighborhood, the village that raised you, where your mother, the girl who gave you your first hit of a joint, and the teacher that taught you to read still lived, reliving the same high school gossip you’ve known for ten years. You’d be wearing ripped jeans and a too revealing top that your friend talked you into.

Instead, you’re trying to recall facts from your undergrad education that you haven’t thought about, trying to figure out how to impress these people.

Didn’t Ernaux write about the transition from being poor to being an academic? Didn’t she write about—

“You sure like this bar.”

The voice you hear makes you turn your head—You’re faced with a handsome man, red glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. There are whisps of grey in his scruff. He holds a glass of.. Something.. maybe resembling whiskey? You’re not sure.

“I’m sorry?”

And you are. Men don’t really talk to you, and in your brain, maybe this blind man—you assume he’s blind based off his glasses and his cane but you don’t dare say this assumption out loud, maybe this blind man is playing some sort of trick on you.

“You like this bar. You’ve been standing here for a half hour.”

You struggle to find anything clever to say.

So, maybe because it’s all you can think, or maybe because you think it’ll get the handsome stranger to leave you alone, you respond,

“I’m just trying to figure out if everyone at this party can tell I grew up poor or if it’s all in my head.”

And though you’re one hundred percent serious, handsome stranger laughs.

Something sparks. Deep in the confines of your soul where you’ve locked away any routes to passion or excitement, having thrown away the key when you got your mind numbing poorly paid office job.

“I’m Matt.” He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you give him your name. At least you shake his hand properly. “So, if you feel so out of place, why are you here?”

“My boss told me I had to.” You respond, your voice carrying a bored edge as you mention him. “Told me I needed to come to make the company look good, because everyone brings secretaries to this thing to show their appreciation. Like it’s a privilege to have these men talk down to me, to have them coo and aw at my lack of money or maybe my lack of intelligence and have them go,” You lean over to this man who told you his name two minutes ago, and put your hand on his thigh—“Don’t worry honey, I’ll happily sit here and explain basic government systems you learned in eighth grade while you worry about paying your rent because you had to buy a dress for this stupid party and you only make enough money to choose between the dress and your rent,” You explain, your thumb rubbing his thigh for a little extra emphasis on your point.

Matt blushes.

That spark grows.

“Sounds like a nightmare.” He hums.

You withdraw your hand to take a sip of your drink.

“Just exhausting.” You sigh, neglecting to mention that you’re further unable to pay your rent because you had to take off your second job to be here. The job you’ve had since high school. The job you swore to quit one day. “Anyways. I’ve probably annoyed you, Sorry.”

“No, no, I appreciate the honesty. I grew up poor too,” He answers, “And now I feel like part of the problem.” He shrugs.

You look to him. In his finely pressed suit, his expensive scent.

“Prove it.”

His face twists into something of amused confusion.

“Prove it?”

“Yeah. Tell me something only someone who grew up poor would understand.” You request, daring him. He knows this is serious to you, that if he’s lying to you, whatever he hopes to get out of this is not going to happen. So, he sips his drink and goes to the dark corner of his mind to when his dad was alive.

“Well, besides the fact that I grew up in an orphanage,” He starts, and you feel like an asshole, “When my dad was alive, I used to have to do my homework in the laundry mat, moving over our clothes, while he was at work. Then I’d wheel the load home in this laundry basket on wheels.” He told you. You smile, comforted—You can see through the graying hair and fine pressed suit. At his core, he is just like you.

At that shitty house party you don’t go to, he’s smoking a cigarette in a tee shirt and cargo shorts, and you’re just as attracted to him there.

“Alright, I trust you.” You promise. You take another sip of your champagne, looking around the room. The party is starting to dwindle down and bosses are taking their secretaries to dark corners. Your back hurts.

“Good.” He takes a sip of his drink and stands up, leaving the now empty glass on the bar counter. “How much?”

“How much what?”

Matt grins and holds a room key card to one of the many rooms in the hotel above this stupid fucking party.

“How much do you trust me, sweetheart?”

-

His room is on the 8th floor, and it’s.. bigger than any hotel room you’ve ever stayed in. It’s clean, the lights are warm, and you’re pretty sure you could sink right through the bed. You step into the room and find yourself taking off your heels, with no real idea if you were allowed to stay the night.

“Nice place,” You admire, and you predict his words before he says it,

“Thanks. Smells pretty fancy, I guess.” He shrugs. He listens to as you jump onto the bed, stretching out. Matt slips out of his shoes, and he lays next to you, groaning a bit as he lays down.

“Can I ask you something?” You wonder, just admiring his face. Your hand comes up to touch his cheek.

“Anything.” He hums, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“How old are you?” You wonder.

“Forty-two.” He responds, and he goes to say something else, but you lean in to kiss him. But just before he can gratify you, before you can learn the taste of his lips, his hand, quick as lightning, comes up and grabs your jaw, holding you in place, “Really, sweetheart? The fact that I’m forty-two turns you on?” he asks.

You can’t help but defend yourself—

“Well, just kissing you doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m turned on or anything—”

“So if I snuck my hand up this pretty dress of yours, you’d be what? Not soaking wet?”

You just look at him for a long time.

“Okay, what do I have to do to get you to kiss me, instead of just talking to you?”

“Why? I like the sound of your voice,” He smirks, and you roll your eyes. You feel defensive, like he’s making fun of you. Like he knows how badly you want him, and he’s withholding it from you on purpose, just to see you squirm. As your mind starts to spiral, you pull away from him, the lustful heat in your cheeks being replaced by hot, bubbling rage.

“You know what, I don’t need this shit—” You move to get off the bed, trying to find your heels when Matt grabs your wrist—with gentleness he’d use to care for a skittish animal—and pulls you back towards the bed, trying not to laugh when you stumble over your feet, now standing between his legs.

“Stop.” His voice is gentle, but firm. He hears the way you inhale, the way you try to mask your anger. It turns him on. “You really want to kiss me?”

You hesitate to respond—you want to kiss him so fucking badly. You can’t remember the last time you wanted anything other than wanting to pay your rent or wanting a new chair at work.

“Yeah.” You finally breathe. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. “Well, if I ask you a question, are you gonna try to leave again?”

You clench your teeth.

“You just asked me a question and I’m still standing here, aren’t I?” You see him smile.

“Okay, when was the last time you kissed someone?”

“..A while ago.”

“How long ago since someone’s made you cum?”

Your silence is deafening—it’s revealing. Matt starts to chuckle.

“Oh, fuck this—” You turn to leave but Matt pulls you in, and then his hand is on the back of your thigh, pulling you close.

“C’mon, sit on my lap,” He starts, and hesitantly, and admittedly clumsily, you sit on his lap, your legs resting on either side of him, while his hands hold your sides, as if they were made for him to hold. “So, no one’s ever made you cum before?”

“No one except my vibrator.” You say, and Matt just shakes his head.

“I’m a lawyer.” He starts, and you groan, your head tilts back,

“Jesus Fucking—”

Matt’s hand squeezes your side.

“Don’t use the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart—”

“Is this some sort of joke? Am I being—”

Matt comes forward to kiss you, his lips silencing your thoughts. He tastes like whiskey and vanilla, and it eggs you on. You deepen the kiss, any anger or frustration slowly melting. And when he pulls away, his teeth catch your bottom lip and he tugs just enough to drive you crazy.

“Are you going to listen now, sweetheart?” he asks, and all you can do is stare at his pretty pink lips.

“Sure.”

“Good.” He clears his throat. “I’m a lawyer,” he says, “So part of my job is to help deliver justice. And it is..” He laughs a little like his plans to fucking ruin you are funny, “a fucking injustice that no one has ever made you cum. That all you know is some battery-operated thing instead of my fingers or my cock,” He sighs, “So how ‘bout we deliver some well-deserved justice, sweetheart? How’s that sound?”

It sounds like you could die. What is happening? Weren’t you just complaining about how badly you wanted to get away from this whole scene? Why do you want him so bad?

“..Sounds like you have all the power in this situation.”

Matt grins like he knows it.

“Does sound like that, huh? Here, I’ll tell you a secret,” He leans in, his lips grazing your ear, “You have the power here. You say the word, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop, and you can stay here for the night, or you can leave, I’ll pay for your cab, or..” His hands begin to gently rub up and down your sides.

You smile. He’s trying to make you feel better, and it’s working.

“Or..?” You prompt.

“Or.. I could teach you how good it feels to cum from something with a pulse. And not something.. battery operated,” and the way he says it, you know he’s repulsed by the idea that your vibrator is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

And it makes you smile wider.

“My vibrator is very good to me, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh,” He chuckles, “Not nearly as good as I’ll be to you.” He promises.

It’s a big promise.

You just look at him for a long minute, trying to decide. As if there’s even a choice to make. You’d let him break your heart if he asked nicely.

“Can I take off your glasses?” You ask softly, and Matthew nods, and you find yourself taking them off and just holding them for a moment. You stare for a long time, to the point where you start to nibble on the ends of his glasses, and he smiles. He likes how authentic you are. How unable to hide yourself from him you are.

“So, what do you say?”

“Hm..” He suspects you’re fucking with him. “Well, I’d have to—”

“Yes or no?”

“I thought I had all the power here.”

“You do. But I’m running out of patience here, and,” He brings your hand down to his pants so you can feel his bulge, “I am way too hard to wait for much longer.” He confesses. He thinks he might die if he can’t feel you clench around him, so he quietly, desperately hopes you’ll say yes.

“Okay,” You smile, “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Not very enthusiastic—” You inhale, and he knows you’re close to leaving, so he tries to entice you, “C’mon, just.. humor me, sweetheart. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

“Making a whole lot of promises, Mr..?”

“Murdock.”

“Matthew Murdock,” You hum, “Okay, Mr. Murdock. I want you to fuck me, just like you’ve promised. Make me forget all about my vibrator.”

And before the words finish leaving your mouth, his mouth is against yours, swallowing any insecurity you had earlier. His fingers begin to slowly move up and down your sides, and you already know that whatever is about to happen will ruin your vibrator for you forever.

You could see yourself becoming addicted to this feeling, to him, to the feeling of being wanted.. You could feel yourself already slipping down that rabbit hole.

As you kiss him, he lets out this soft moan into the kiss, and in response, your hands come up to play with his hair. You start to roll your hips a bit, as if you want to tease him. Matt’s hands squeeze your sides, and he pulls away from the kiss just for a second.

“Safe word?” He wonders, and you scoff.

“No one’s ever made me cum, you think I have a—Woah!” You cut yourself off, because Matt suddenly flips you over so you’re beneath him against these too expensive sheets.

“So, if things go too far, you’re uh.. you’re gonna say Lava, okay?” He wonders out loud.

“Yeah, Okay,” You nod, “Lava, got it,” and then he’s kissing you again, and his hands are slipping off his jacket, and then he starts to loosen his tie as he kisses you, but then he gives up on that to put his hands on your thighs and then beginning to travel up. You shiver as his hands travel up your dress,

“Pretty fucking dress..” He mumbles, between kissing you silly, “Pretty girl, too..” He mumbles, “Gonna need to rip this dress off you—”

You fully pull away from the kiss to say,

“Rip this fucking dress and I’ll leave so fast,” And Matt knows you’re not joking, but he smiles and says,

“How about I buy you a new one?” He asks, “Or two or three—”

“Oh, my god, just leave the dress intact,” You request, and Matt’s smirk begins to grow.

“Then how about I just fuck you in the dress, huh?” he wonders, “How would you like that, sweetheart?” You nod, letting out a soft ‘mhm’, but Matt shakes his head, “No, no, I gotta hear you say it, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you in this dress. Maybe I will.”

You stare at him for a long moment, wondering where your dignity went.

“Matthew,” You start, “If you don’t fuck me in this dress, I think I’m gonna go crazy. I can’t.. I can’t remember the last time I wanted anything this badly,” You confess, and the words start tumbling out before you can stop them, “I can’t remember the last time anyone made me feel pretty like you have, and I can’t ever use my vibrator again because I already know how much better you’re going to be, and holy fuck¸ yes, it turns me on that you’re forty two and—”

Matt kisses you again, this time only for a short time, because he pulls away after a moment to tell you—

“I think we should work on your dirty talk, but, good. Was it so hard to just do what I asked?”

“..no.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” He says softly, and then his lips are against yours again, while his hands explore, and when his fingers brush over your panties, you moan against his lips, barely registering it as he slips your panties off and stuffs them in his back pocket, because his fingers are caressing your folds, slipping inside you as you moan and writhe beneath him.

“Holy fuck,” You whine, “Matt—”

“Sh, sh, sh..” His lips press a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure the first time someone else makes you cum is on my cock.” He tells you, and he chuckles when he feels your folds flutter around him at that. “I’m gonna fuck you in this dress now, okay?” He wonders, and you nod,

“Yes, please.”

“Aw, pretty girl does have manners under all that brattiness, huh?” He smirks, and before you can retaliate, he kisses you.

When he slowly eases your cock into you, you moan against his lips, and you try to really just feel it. You try to really remember how full you feel, the feeling of Matt’s breathless pants against your lips and skin, the feeling of being wanted by him.. and you know you can’t quit him.

His thrusts begin slowly, and that becomes a feeling you want to remember too. He thrusts into you while burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Wait, hold on, Matt,” but when his thrusts don’t stop, you say, “Okay, Lava,” You offer, and Matt’s thrusts stop, and he very hesitantly pulls his head out of the crook of your neck,

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I just..” Your hands come up to rest on either side of his head, and you just stare at him for a moment, “I just want to memorize your pretty face so I can live in this moment forever.”

Matthew blushes.

You know you’ve won.

You’re not sure what you’ve won, but you definitely feel like you’ve won whatever it is.

Matt presses his forehead against yours and while you stare into his pretty brown eyes, he whispers,

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” Then, after a moment, he asks, “Can I keep going now?”

“Yes, please.” Matt smiles and kisses you again as he begins to thrust into you, and you realize how dirty this entire situation is—an older man, still mostly dressed, fucking you in your expensive (rent stealing) dress just after meeting him, and it makes you want him more. Your hands move to play with his hair as his thrusts increase, one hand gripping the bottom of your chin and the top of your neck, the other sneaking up your thigh to rub circles in your clit.

You’ve never felt closer to God.

This is so much better than your vibrator.

Matt can feel you clench around him, and it makes him chuckle, so, in the most condescending tone he can muster when you are being so good for him, he asks,

“Wanna cum, sweetheart?” He wonders, and when you just whine in response, he continues, “C’mon, use your manners, I know you know how to respond properly,” He reminds, and if you didn’t want him to cum inside you so badly, you’d tell him off.. maybe.

“Please,” You manage out, “Yes, I wanna cum,” and Matt begins to kiss your cheeks, your jaw, and your neck, and only after leaving quite the bite mark on your collarbone, does Matthew say,

“Alright, pretty girl, let me feel you cum on my cock,” He says, and you do, and the way you clench around him makes him moan against your skin, his speed increasing, “Fuck.. Fuck, kid, I gotta..” He sighs.

“Inside,” You beg quietly, “I’m on birth control and—”

“Are you.. sure?” He asks, but his voice is shaky from how badly he wants the answer to be yes.

“Yes, please, please—” And before the third please can leave your mouth, he lets out the prettiest moan against your lips, cumming deep within you, filling you in ways you never thought possible. His hips roll a few more times, just to help you through your high (and just a little bit because he can’t think of anything clever to say that isn’t ‘Will you be mine forever so I can keep fucking you like this?’) but after a few moments, he whispers,

“So.. what did you think?”

You feel amazing. You could die happy. You can barely think, so you respond,

“I think I’m gonna throw out my vibrator.” And it makes him laugh, and you think he’s even prettier when he laughs than when he cums, so you kiss him. And in between kisses, you say, “We made a fucking mess,”

And he finally pulls away with a sigh.

“Well..” A smile tugs at his lips, “Wanna.. check out the shower, sweetheart?” He wonders.

“Do I have much of a choice, Mr. Murdock?” You smile.

“Nope,” And before you can say much else, Matt is grabbing you and swinging him over his shoulder to carry you to the most expensive bathroom you’ve ever stepped foot in.

-

In the morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, and the sound of the shower running again. You slowly blink away your sleep, rubbing your eyes. You have a bit of headache, the consequence of a long night of drinking.. and bad decisions.

You blink, and anxiety begins to well in your chest. Your heart beats out of your chest quickly, and you kind of feel like you can’t breathe. What did you do last night? Well you know what you did, you weren’t that drunk, but if Matt was at that party last night he must’ve been important or—

Your eyes drift over to the side table, and you see a delicious smelling coffee next to an envelope, an envelope that is sloppily marked with your initial, the sign of a blind man attempting to write. You find your bra and then find yourself unable to find your underwear—whatever, you’ll deal with it later, you decide, so you begin looking in drawers and find a pair of Matthew’s boxers. You pull them on, and then take a long sip of the coffee that’s been ordered for you.

Then, you pick up the envelope, and halfway through the sip you stop. It’s an envelope full of cash, it would cover your rent and then some..

So naturally, you put down your coffee and then begin to bang on the bathroom door, hitting it over and over again,

“Matthew! Hey, we need to talk!” You demand, and you hear some shuffling as the shower turns off, and the door opens, and you see Matthew with his hair, and scruff, damp, and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

And you have to admit, in the middle of your anger, he is so hot.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He smiles, handsome devil. “Everything—”

“What the fuck is this?” You ask, smacking the envelope against his chest, “I’m not a fucking hooker,” and your voice matches how badly you want to smack him.

“I know,” he starts,

“Well, only hookers get left an envelope of cash after they fuck some stranger,” You snap, “And I’m not a fucking hooker.”

“Are you wearing my boxers?” You see him smile.

“Do you think I’m a fucking hooker?”

“Boy, you sure like saying fuck and hooker.”

“I’m being serious,” You remind, “I’m not a hooker. I don’t need your money.”

Matt, although he won’t tell you this, doesn’t need his super senses to know that last part is a lie.

“Can I talk without you accusing me of thinking you’re a hooker? Because I don’t think you’re a hooker, I know you’re a very distinguished young woman, and—”

“Alright, I’m not president, I’m a secretary, relax,” You scoff, and start to move around the hotel room, trying to find your shoes, dress, accessories.

Quietly, it turns him on that you’re so difficult.

“Can you just—” he sighs, finding his own boxers and pants, and then starting to put his button up back on, but it hangs on him without being buttoned up as he sits down. “Can you please sit, so we can talk about this?” He wonders.

You’re still holding the envelope.

“Fine.” You grumble, walking over to the bed and sitting next to him. He’s really hot, so you just admire him, and wait for him to talk.

“I know you’re not a hooker.” He starts, “But I am a lawyer, like I told you last night. And.. I make more than enough money for me,” and You want to tell him he doesn’t need to brag about it, “And.. I’m not really looking for a serious relationship right now, but.. I really like you.”

Your face flushes.

“You do?”

He smiles gently.

“I really do. So, here’s the deal, sweetheart—And you can’t get mad at me just for offering, okay?”

“Okay.” You concede.

“Let’s keep seeing each other.” He starts, “Nothing committal, we’ll just hangout, sleep together, I’ll get to hear your pretty noises.. and I’ll pay your rent, and.. and buy you things.” He shrugs.

You blink.

“You want to be my sugar daddy?”

Now it’s Matt’s turn to blush.

“That makes it sound so.. dirty,” he starts, “Which it is.. But you never.. have to do anything, I just.. want to hangout with you. Fucking you will just.. be a nice benefit. A really.. really nice benefit.” He breathes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?”

You consider it for a long moment, thinking. You’d be able to quit your shitty second job, the one you’ve had since high school, the one you swore you were going to quit. And last night was amazing. You really do want to throw out your vibrator, but maybe you could convince him to show you some of his favorite toys.

He’d tell you that you are his favorite toy, and then you’d have to fuck him like it was the last thing you’d ever do.

“I’d like that.” You smile, “But on one condition.” You say, and he nods.

“Anything.” He smiles.

“You can’t fall in love with me.” You say, “And I can’t fall in love with you either. We can be friends, and we can fuck, but no being ‘in love’ with your sugar baby.” You request, and he nods.

“Deal.” He holds out his hand to you, “Shake on it?”

Your fingers wrap around his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

“Deal.” You echo. “We won’t fall in love with each other.”

Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts.  

[bellaxgiornata]

Thank you so much ❤️🥹 I've been slowly working on more Matt content in the background of some other things, but I'm so happy to see all my Matty works are still being enjoyed! 🫶🏻💕

Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Series

Falling For the Devil [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains lots of smut, fluff, angst, humor

A very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses.

All These Years [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, and eventual smut

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

Seeking Forgiveness [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

Matt always made protecting Hell's Kitchen his priority, you knew that when you'd begun dating him. What you hadn't expected was just how much he'd eventually make it a priority over you, breaking promise after promise to spend his time with you. But when you unexpectedly discover that you're pregnant and Matt yet again breaks a promise to you, the pair of you end up in a fight that ends the relationship before you can even break the news. Though when he later learns the truth, Matt becomes hell bent on seeking your forgiveness.

The Devil at Your Window [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

Break the Tension [Chapter List]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi public sex

When Marci first asked you to be the Maid of Honor at her and Foggy’s wedding, you'd already been forewarned that your old college rival from Columbia, Matthew Murdock, would be Foggy’s Best Man. And while you'd expected a long weekend filled with tension between the pair of you, you hadn't anticipated all of the sexual tension–or the sex.

A Favor from the Devil [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

Between working cases at Nelson, Murdock, and Page and combating crime as Daredevil in Hell’s Kitchen at night, Matt had little time for much else. Until a new neighbor moves in across the hall and you attract his attention with your odd behavior. But when your quiet four year old doesn't just befriend the Devil–she unravels his biggest secret–Matt only grows closer and more protective of the both of you. Inevitably he learns the truth of your past, but that's not what surprises him most. It's a favor you ask of the Devil–a favor that initially leaves Matt conflicted.

Borrowed Time [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; heavy angst, hopeful but not happy ending, canon-typical violence, death

While walking home after your night shift at Metro-General Hospital, you meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen by chance when he saves you. Your brush with death leaves you contemplating the concept of fate and predetermined events, but Matt insists God wanted him to save you that night. Though you can't help but wonder if you really were just living on borrowed time...

Keep Coming Back to You [Chapter List]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains smut, angst, horror, multiverse travel, zombies (yes, that's right) friends to lovers to enemies than back to lovers

Serena Jones–that definitely wasn’t your real name, but it was one you’d chosen for yourself when you’d lost your old life years ago. Now you belonged nowhere, always hiding in the multiverse just trying to stay alive and away from Them. You’d been on the run ever since you’d been pulled into Nightmare 1–a hellish world that you somehow fell back into whenever you lost control of your emotions. For the last few years, all you’d ever known was running–until you met Matthew Murdock. He was the only person you’d ever let get close enough to love, but he was also the only one who broke your heart. And for some damn reason, no matter how far you tried to run, you kept finding yourself right back in his path.

You've Been Gone So Long, Baby [Chapter List] 《Completed Series》

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains heavy angst, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

Matt had never let anyone so deep into his life until you. But when everything was going so perfectly, when he didn't think he could possibly be happier, he loses everything he loves in a single second–and he's absolutely powerless to fix it.

Life Worth Living [Series Masterlist]

tags/warnings: 18+; dark themes/content, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, PTSD, smut, plot twists, fluff and angst, torture, mentions of sexual abuse, canon divergence, Reader has a fake name & is Matt's neighbor

All you'd ever wanted was your freedom–a chance at a "normal" life. Under the simple guise of Olivia Allen, you move to Hell's Kitchen in New York in an attempt to escape your past, but your past can't stay buried when your powerful and dangerous ex finds you. Forced to come to terms with who you are in order to protect the life you've built, you eventually learn there's secrets about yourself that you never even knew...

Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader/Frank Castle xFem!Reader Series

Jealousy [Installment List]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Fitness Instructor!Reader and Frank Castle x Fem!Fitness Instructor!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; Sexual tension, flirting, lust/love triangle, friends with benefits, smut, jealous Matt and Frank

Your days are spent training members of Fogwell’s Gym as well as keeping the place running for your elderly uncle. Though if you were being honest, your favorite part of working at Fogwell's had always been the handsome man who'd long ago struck a deal with your uncle to use the gym after hours. Despite his constant denial, you'd quickly figured out that he was Daredevil. While the pair of you had often flirted during his late night visits when you were still around, nothing more had ever happened between you two. Until one day he shows up with a very attractive friend and everything changes. You soon find yourself the center of both their attentions and unable to choose either one. But what's wrong with a little competition among friends?

Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader One Shots & Shorts

Nothing Remains the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

warnings/tags: 18+; DDBA SPOILERS, angst (not necessarily a happy ending), emotional hurt, pining, mentions of sexual content

In an attempt to bridge the distance between Karen and you, Matt invites you both to his apartment for dinner while the pair of you are visiting New York for work. But after that night at Josie's over a year ago and your almost-relationship with Matt had long since ended, clearly nothing is the same anymore–especially Matt.

What Did You Expect?

Warnings/tags: 18+; mentions of sex, injured and snarky Matt, little jealousy, exes after a breakup, angst, hopeful ending

In need of medical assistance, Matt interrupts your evening–but you hadn't been alone.

There's Still Light in the Darkness

Warnings/tags: 18+; depression, emotional hurt/comfort, boyfriend Matt, angst with a hopeful ending

For months you'd been stuck in a dark place inside your mind, but Matt finds a unique way to remind you of the light.

Catcalling the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: drunk Reader, humor, terrible flirtatious comments, and lots of appreciation for the Ass of Hell's Kitchen

A night out takes an amusing turn when you accidentally and drunkenly catcall the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

You Promised

Pairing: husband!Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; shower smut, oral m!receiving, that damn crucifix necklace, and a little bit of choking

Matt is a giver, he always has been. He's also terrible when it comes to asking for what he wants–but that changes tonight.

Half of Forever [Series Masterlist] 《Completed Series》

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

Everything had always felt right with Matthew. He had been your other half. Your forever. Until he went and shattered your heart when he ended things. But even after the years apart and your attempts to move on, Matt had never managed to stray far from your thoughts. Though unknown to you, you'd never quite left his, either.

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

As Luck Would Have It [1] [2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: Humor, fluff, and a charming, teasing Matty

Stressed out while working on a dead-end case at Nelson, Murdock, and Page, Matt isn't too thrilled when Foggy interrupts and asks him for a favor. Despite his annoyance at another task being added to his list of things to do, Matt is shocked when the potential client Foggy asks him to call turns out to be a wrong number. What's even more surprising is how much Matt enjoys chatting with the woman on the other end of the line.

Acquaintances

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; bit of light angst, running into exes, brief fluff, and a hopeful ending

He was once the love of your life in college–someone you'd been planning a future with–but seeing him now, he felt just like a past acquaintance in a bar.

If We're Being Honest [1] [2]

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings, delayed comfort, anxious Reader

Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.

Right Here, Right Now

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, public fingering, and Matt being a little shit along with his filthy mouth also deserves a warning

Matt had been working hard on a case for over a month now, meaning the two of you had barely seen each other in weeks. After he, Foggy, and Karen finally have their win in court, he invites you out to Josie's to celebrate with them. Though it soon becomes apparent to you that he has something in particular on his mind tonight.

Distracted

Warnings/tags: sweet fluff, hurt/comfort

Matt has meditated around you many times before, and every time you've always had the urge to sit in his lap and see how he'd react. So, this time you do.

Stop, Just Breathe

Warnings/tags: panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff & a soft Matty, Matt POV

When Matt returns home from work, he finds you on the verge of a panic attack and quickly tries to calm you back down.

Under the Weather

Warnings/tags: 18+; Nothing but fluff and a stubborn, flirty Devil

Despite the fact that he's coming down with a cold, Matt refuses to heed your advice on staying inside instead of running around Hell's Kitchen in the freezing autumn rain. In the morning, you're left with an even sicker, more stubborn Devil.

Underneath the Mistletoe

Warnings/Tags: Nothing but holiday fluff and first kisses

Tired of enduring the obvious pining between you and Matt, Foggy and Karen plan a way to get you and Matt to admit your feelings - or at least to kiss.

Too Much

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, poor Matty is in need of a hug

With his heightened senses, tonight is one night you know Matt is guaranteed to need some comfort.

[spider-stark]

KAFKA

pairing | matt murdock x reader

summary | matt made the mistake of telling you how loud electricity is—now Franz Kafka's invaded your thoughts

warnings | mention of bugs, domestic matt, reader and foggy are totally besties, no beta so if there's an error just kick me in the face

word count | 700+

Sometime after you moved in together, Matt told you how electricity buzzed. 

“Like a bug in your ear,” he said. 

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. Living in a world where you could never escape something so constant, so pestilent. 

Which is exactly why you spiraled. 

“Honey, relax.” Matt laughed as you bombarded him with rapid-fire questions about how loud everything was: the TV, the Keurig, your phone charger by the bed. “I’ve dealt with it most of my life,” he assured you. “I can tune it out most days.” 

Great! Fine. Dandy, even! 

Except it actually wasn’t great, fine, or dandy. Because while “most days” was objectively better than “no days,” it was still drastically worse than “all days.” 

You didn’t want Matt to just ignore the buzz. 

You wanted it to stop. 

But, since he lovingly asked you to, you dropped it. Let him shift the topic to his day at work—how Karen kept burning the coffee and Foggy had gone full mother hen, nagging him about setting up a doctor’s appointment for that kink in his lower back (which turned into you nagging him, too). 

Knowledge of the buzz lingered, though. Festered in the back of your mind like a scab you couldn’t quite reach, desperate to pick. 

It became an obsession. Then a complex. 

Eventually, you couldn’t even turn on a light without going full Kafka, envisioning some giant bug that you set loose skittering around your boyfriend’s head. 

So, you did what any normal person would. 

You got rid of your lights. 

In a single afternoon, you traded all your lamps for beeswax candles, unscrewed the bulbs from every overhead light, and replaced your nightlight with a heaping dose of Grow The Hell Up.  

By the time Matt got off work, you were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. A certain giddiness flooded your veins as you heard his key turn in the lock. Again, you wanted to bombard him with questions. Did he notice a difference? Had the world finally gone quiet? 

But you held your eager tongue. 

Matt took off his shoes, loosening his tie as he came up behind you at the stove. You were stirring a pot, biting your lip to keep from grinning as strong arms slipped around your waist. Between chaste cheek kisses, he mumbled his usual greetings. Did you have a nice day?—a devilish curve of his lips—Did you miss me? 

It wasn’t until several moments later, when you asked him to pull some plates down from the cabinet, that Matt stopped and tilted his head. 

Bemused, he asked, “Are you cooking in the dark?” 

You loudly objected. Not just because you really weren’t, but because Matt’s mouth didn’t always have an off-switch around his best friend, and cooking in the dark was the sort of breach in Kitchen Safety 101 that would send Foggy—with whom you’d recently Grouponed a beginner’s culinary class—into cardiac arrest. 

“I have candles,” you assured him. “And the billboard!” 

Oh, the billboard… The one hitch in your pursuit of silence. 

Posted right outside your apartment, the big digital billboard shined through the windows day and night, painting your living room like a technicolor dreamland. You used to not mind it—maybe even liked it, once. But ever since the buzz-talk, all you could think was how loud something like that must be to Matt’s hyper-sensitive ears. 

Disregarding plates and dinner, Matt held a hand out in your direction. You took it, letting him pull you in for a hug. 

You melted into him. He smelled like soap and city streets, like salvation and eternal spring. 

Matt kissed your forehead. Once, twice—a third time to prove you were real, here, his. “I love that you care so much—” another kiss, on the tip of your nose this time “—I love you,” he said. “But I don’t expect you to live your whole life in the dark.” 

He wasn’t talking about lamps or nightlights, you knew, but real darkness. A soul tangled in sin. A man with the devil inside him. 

But when you looked at Matt, you saw none of that. 

All you saw was light. 

All you heard was a sweet, calming buzz. 

“I won’t,” you promised him, tightening your arms around his waist. “Not as long as I have you.”

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

a/n | would you believe me if I said this was originally over 3k and a frank fic? (istg, matt is always losing his girl to frank in my writing.) but it pissed me off, so I decided to keep it short and let matt be happy for once in his life.

anyways, thanks for reading! I'm gonna go write about mighty ducks now

<3

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 8

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: He's baaaaack. And it's about to get dramatic.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnancy. Angst and arguing. Mention of canon typical blood and injury. Description of IV and stitches.

w/c: 4,425

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks*

The cry of your voice cut through the night like a dagger into Matt’s heart. He didn’t know what was waiting for him at home, but he could hear the agony in your screams from blocks away. All the worst case scenarios were running through his head and clouding his thoughts as he tried to focus on his surroundings to make it to you as quickly as he could. He tripped on a chimney as he leapt from one roof to another, recovering with a roll and not missing a beat to keep pushing onward. Despite the sweat now pouring down his face, his blood felt like ice, freezing him in place and slowing him to a near halt. At least that’s what it felt like as the seconds ticked on while he tried to get home to you. He may as well have been running through molasses. Not caring at how his legs ached while they carried him, he pressed on, trying with all his might to pick up speed until he finally made it home.

His heart rate was high from how quickly he was moving, but it nearly dropped all the way to zero as the smell of blood invaded his nose when he finally stepped onto the balcony of the apartment you shared. He didn’t want to think of the worst case scenario, couldn’t even bring himself to imagine the word. Wrenching open the door, he picked up on three heart beats through your sniffles and pleas; yours, the baby’s, and a third.

It was the least steady, erratically pulsing in an unclear rhythm.

Dying.

He tasted your tears in the air, salty and mixing with the stench of blood as he rushed to be by your side.

“Matt! Please! I’m losing him, please!” you begged

Matt honed in on the figure in your arms, listening to inaudible grunts as the life in it was slipping away. He could practically hear the blood pouring like a waterfall out of the strangers’ neck. The familiar scent of gunpowder amongst the sweat and the blood stuck to the man’s skin. Heavy boots weightless against the floor as he struggled to breathe. At least three guns on his person.

Frank.

“Keep putting pressure on the wound.” Matt commanded as he leapt back to his feet and sprinted to the bathroom, emerging a moment later with the first aid kit in his hands

It had only been minutes between the time Frank collapsed and Matt arrived. But as you watched Frank grow paler and colder in your arms, it felt like an eternity. Matt tossed his gloves aside as he knelt down beside you and threaded the needle.

“Hold him steady.”

Matt began suturing the wound, hands slipping with each stitch from the wetness of the blood. Weightless in your embrace, Frank’s head rested against your stomach. You prayed that he could hear the baby the way Matt could in this moment. Maybe if he could sense the life inside you that he might have created, it would give his soul the push he needed to stay earthside. You stroked at Frank’s hair while Matt worked, tears spilling onto his eyes as he laid nearly motionless in your arms. Would this be enough to save him?

“Okay. The wound is closed. But he’s lost a lot of blood, we need to get him to—” Matt paused, head cocking at a new sound. “Someone’s here.”

Not even a second later, there was a gentle knock on the door. Your body froze in place as you watched Matt take in everything he could about whoever on the other side of the door. Was Frank followed? Was Matt? Were you about to be caught in the middle of a shootout in your own home?

“Matt? My name’s Curtis. I’m a friend of Frank’s.”

You exhaled in relief, choking out another sob. Frank had told you about Curtis a few times and you knew he was a person to trust. Matt ripped off his Daredevil helmet and bolted towards the door.

The man followed Matt into the apartment, immediately going into field medic mode when he saw you and Frank on the floor. He was large in stature but had a kindness in his eyes and a tranquility to his voice, even in such a desperate situation.

“What happened?” Curtis asked, using his flashlight to open Frank’s eyelids and asses his vitals

“He um…” you spoke softly through sniffles “He just showed up. His neck was bleeding and…”

“I closed the wound, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” Matt chimed in

“Did a damn good job too. Those are some clean stitches.” Curtis commented, feeling Frank’s pulse. “I brought a few bags of blood and some IVs. Help me get him on the couch.”

Matt and Curtis crouched down and picked up Frank’s heavy, unconscious form. One of the few things Frank had told you about Curtis was his prosthetic leg and how he got it. You wondered if lifting a solid log like Frank was difficult for him. As they got him up and onto the couch, you sat back on your haunches. You didn’t want to let him go, wanting to hold him in your arms; feel him breathing against you just to know he was still alive. You numbly watched as Curtis rummaged through his bag and put on latex gloves.

“How did you know where to find him?” Matt asked.

“He called me. Said he was hurt bad and that he was heading here cause it was the closest place he could think of. Asked me to meet him.”

Curtis worked fast, getting a line into Frank’s arm and getting a bag of blood hooked to him. The former medic seemed completely unfazed that Matt was standing beside him, half-dressed in his Daredevil suit. You wondered if Curtis already knew who was behind the red mask, or just spent enough time around Frank that the identity of a notable vigilante in the city was unremarkable to him. Did Curtis know who you were though? Did Frank even tell him about you?

“With Frank you never know what you’re gonna find but I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.” He continued while he worked

He improvised using the table lamp as a stand, hooking the bag onto the finial and checking that it was flowing correctly. You realized it was still dark in the apartment, only the moon still streaming in. Shit, you should have turned a light on so Curtis could work better, not knowing what else to do to help.

Color began to spread across Frank’s face almost immediately. As the seconds ticked on, he looked more and more alive and you finally allowed yourself to breathe fully. Since his arrival, it felt as though you were a fish that had been caught on land and now were finally tossed back in the sea as water filled your gills with relief. With Frank’s main injury taken care of, Curtis pulled a few antiseptic wipes out and began to clean the blood that was drying on Frank’s neck, also checking if there were any other injuries he needed to address. You still sat on the floor across the room, unable to move as you watched Curtis work. Matt paced behind the sofa, ready to lend a hand if needed. You could tell he was listening closely, making sure Frank was still breathing. Once Curtis had cleaned enough of the wound, he lifted each of Frank’s limbs to check him over once more and gave his heart a listen.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to bring some antibiotics.” Curtis said, cleaning up his supplies and grabbing his bag.

“Will he be okay?” you asked

“Probably. If he makes it to sunrise and doesn’t sprout an infection, we should be in the clear.”

“Thank you, Curtis.” Matt said, walking him to the door.

You stared at Frank. If he didn’t have all the scrapes and bruises across his face and arms, he’d look just like he was sleeping. After how things ended between the two of you, it was unbelievable that he was here in front of you and alive (mostly.) You worried if you dared to look away for even a moment, he might just evaporate into thin air and disappear from your life again.

“You should get some sleep.” Matt spoke almost robotically in your direction.

He was standing between you and the door where he just showed Curtis out, clearly keeping a distance. All the emotions you carried from your fight earlier came flooding back in; your anger at Matt for not considering your feelings, the hurt that he’d put himself in danger, the fear that he wouldn’t return to you. Based on the way his eyes shifted back and forth rapidly, you knew he was assessing you now. He could probably tell how your muscles ached and your eyes burned from exhaustion. He could probably tell your heartburn was flaring up with a vengeance from all the stress of the evening and that your ankles were swollen from all the pacing. He could probably tell the bed had not been slept in since he left.

“I’m not tired.” you responded

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“You should at least try.”

“Please, Matt. I need to stay up. Just until Curtis comes back and we know he’s okay.”

“Fine.” Matt replied curtly. He cocked his head to give you and the baby another listen, then headed towards the bedroom.

You stayed in your spot on the floor, just watching Frank’s chest rise and fall. Again and again and again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Matt’s voice cut through your trance, startling you with a jolt. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been sitting there staring at Frank, but enough time had passed that Matt was freshly showered and clad in sweatpants and a T-shirt. In all the overwhelm of Frank’s arrival, you hadn’t really looked at Matt since he’d gotten home. Thankfully, he had no signs of injury clearly visible to you. The only thing amiss was the pained look on his face.

“Yeah. What?”

“Did you mean it earlier? When you said you loved me?”

You sighed deeply, hurt by his question. You were still so angry with him. With the way he still stayed several feet away from you, leaning on the bedroom door frame with an unreadable expression, it was if he was mad at you for Frank’s unexpected return. Like you somehow magically willed him to come back out of spite for the fight you and Matt had earlier. You’d received no affection from him since Curtis left and Frank was deemed stable; no greeting kiss, no apology for how he spoke to you earlier, no hug or gesture to comfort you during this stressing ordeal. He was behaving more as if he was having a discussion with an opposing counsel and not his lover.

“Matt, you know I meant it. My heartbeat didn’t waiver, I know it didn’t.” you spoke with a hushed tone, careful not to disturb Frank. Unsure if he was still passed out or just sleeping, but he needed rest if he was going to heal.

“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to make sure that hasn’t changed.”

Rubbing at your bump, you shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cry again. Sure, you were still angry about your fight earlier, but not enough to possibly not love him anymore in just a few hours.

“Why would it have changed between now and then?”

Matt nodded towards Frank on the sofa.

You scoffed.

“How could you even think this changes how I feel?”

Matt stepped towards where you still sat on the floor, crouching down to be at face level with you. His voice vibrated with irritation through gritted teeth as he tried to also keep his volume down.

“It changes everything.”

“Not how I feel about you, Matt. I love you and I mean it. No matter what happens with Frank.”

That was all you could be certain of at this point and you hoped it was enough reassurance for Matt.

“And what if he wants to be in the baby’s life too? What do we do then?” he asked

“I don’t know. He needs to make it through the night first. When he wakes up and I have the chance to tell him and then we go from there.”

Admittedly, Frank being back put a serious complication in everything moving forward. Or maybe it didn’t matter at all because he could just up and disappear again and leave you and Matt right back to before. Your head began to throb. There were too many things to think about, each swirling in your brain like a hurricane meeting a tornado, leaving no clear thoughts just chaos in it’s wake.

“What if he wants you back?” Matt questioned

“We were never really together so I don’t know how he could want me ‘back’.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m with you now, Matt.”

“Still didn’t answer my question.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” you scoffed

“I don’t know.”

Matt’s clipped tone let you know his patience was waning. There was something he was trying to get from you; whether it was reassurance or he was just egging on another fight, you weren’t sure. But you knew you could out stubborn him. Besides, to have the audacity to be miffed like he was when you were the one who should be agitated. And you certainly were. Not just from the argument earlier, but at how cold and distant he was right now. The fucking nerve to treat you like he was a detective interrogating a suspect when you’d done nothing wrong. His voice got tighter and tighter as he spoke, jaw ticking with rage as his tone dropped lower.

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, bullshit.” he spat back

“I did.” you swallowed thickly “Before all this. Before he left. Before the baby.”

Once again, you placed a protective hand on your stomach. Your tail bone was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long and if you weren’t so stressed, you probably could have laid down right there and slept for hours on the uncomfortable ground.

“But you know Frank, he couldn’t… didn’t want to…” you trailed off “Anyway, you stepped up and showed me so much gentleness that I’m still not sure I deserve and I fell in love with you.”

“Do you still love him though?”

“I’m not sure. Do you ever stop loving someone once you love them? But I know I’ve moved on. And I know you’ve made me happy. And I know I love you, Matt.”

Something about that seemed to finally quell Matt’s doubts even if just a little. He reached out, placing his hand softly over yours, taking in the tiny heartbeat coming through. A tear ran down your face at finally feeling Matt’s touch, a small comfort in the panic of the last few hours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments. Matt’s head tilted a fragment of a degree from time to time, listening to your stomach and taking in the sounds of you and the baby. Just as you finally felt at peace for the first time since this afternoon, Matt spoke.

“He’s not staying.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Matt.” you balked, shoving his hand away from where it rested “He almost died tonight. He still might. I’m not going to let you just toss him out because he wasn’t there for me like you were for a baby he knows nothing about.”

“Fine. He can stay until he’s better.”

The sun was rising, muddy blue dusk illuminating the apartment.

The exhaustion of the last few hours finally caught up to you, Matt finally convincing you to go to bed and at least lay down. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. Matt tried to remain focused on Frank, listening to his heartbeat become steadier as the night wore into morning. But he couldn’t help but tune into you and the baby as well.

The smell of Frank’s blood lingered in crusted specks under your fingernails while you slumbered. Matt’s Columbia sweatshirt warmed your body amidst the chill still in the air. He listened as your skin glided smoothly against the silk sheets as you shifted to lay on your other side.

Attempting to get himself something to keep awake, Matt fiddled with the coffee maker in the kitchen. The city below was beginning to come to life; cars whizzing past as early commuters began to head downtown, morning joggers’ feet thumping rhythmically along the west side highway, bodegas lifting their grates to begin welcoming business for the day.

The noise of it all faded away in an instant as Matt heard the figure on the couch shift and grunt.

Frank was awake.

Thoughts wisped by in Frank’s brain as the world started to come into his focus. He scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to figure it all out. His whole body ached like the times he had to run the obstacle course at bootcamp. His mouth felt dry as he tried to swallow, burning pain traveling all the way down his esophagus.

The only thing he could remember was you. Coming to him in a vision as he sat on death’s doorstep. He wasn’t sure how he got there, he just knew that’s where he had been. And there you were to greet him. One final vision to seal off his time in the land of the living. The love he lost second standing in a bright doorway to send him off. He knew on the other side of that door would be the first one he lost, a perfect bookend to remind him of all the happiness he was never meant to have while he lived.

But no, he never made it to you. Never got the chance to kiss you goodbye and cross the frame to Maria. Instead he was here now, scratchy blanket coarse against his skin as he tried to shift where he lay. He was somewhere? A couch? But where… oh, right. Matt.

“Red?” he called out in barely as a whisper, raspy and faint.

“Yeah?” Matt replied, carrying two coffee mugs in his hand as he made his way across the room to Frank.

“What happened?”

“You showed up at my apartment last night. Bleeding out.”

Matt sat the mugs down on the coffee table, taking a seat in the chair opposite. He crossed his arms, expression stoic behind his red glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your friend Curtis came too and he says you might actually live so, lucky you.”

Frank rubbed at his eyes as he attempted to orient himself. Right, Curtis. He sort of remembered that too. As he tried to sit up, a wave of vertigo rushed over him, making him feel like was on the shittiest ride at the carnival that Lisa used to love going on. She always tortured him and Bill, making them ride it over and over until they were ready to loose their lunches. Resigning to the awful sensation, Frank gingerly laid his body back down. He blinked a few more times to shake away the nausea and took in a hearty inhale.

Your name unmistakably slipped from his lips in the form of a question.

“She’s sleeping. Finally got her to calm down enough to rest.”

So you had been real.

“What’s she doin’ here?”

Matt’s grip on the arm of the chair tightened as he heard the way Frank’s heart sped up when he confirmed you were just in the other room. He was trying to remain calm with Frank for your sake, but he’d never been good at keeping a level head when the two of them were together even before he met you.

“She lives here. With me.” he replied curtly

Despite how dizzy and weak he felt, Frank sat bolt upright at Matt’s statement, glancing around with confusion just to confirm he was indeed where he thought he was; in Matt Murdock’s apartment. The blood rushing away from his brain made his head pound and his vision go white for a moment, but he pushed the discomfort aside. From what Frank could see without twisting his body (which he knew would hurt like a bitch if he tried), Red wasn’t lying. Sure, the place felt mostly like something a boring fuckin’ lawyer would live in; modern art that looked like a Kindergardener drew it on the walls and furniture that was probably designed by Warhol and Frank Lloyd Wright’s love child.

But he also could immediately see the touches of you. There was an antique desk under the window that he knew used to be in your place. On top of it was a frame with a photo of the Eiffel tower. You told him you wanted to visit Paris someday. Draped over the chair was an afghan, purple and blue yarn woven in a zigzag pattern. You once mentioned it was made for you by your great aunt.

Shit, you lived with Murdock now. But how?

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, confused still

“Someone had to take care of her after you left.”

Matt couldn’t help the malice in his tone. Recalling the nights he spent wiping away your tears and holding you in his arms when Frank disappeared, he grew angrier and angrier with every passing second that Frank had stumbled back into your lives. Matt was there for every night you spent worrying, every tear you shed, every bout of morning sickness and late night craving. All of it. And Frank wasn’t.

“She tell you about me?”

“Yeah. She did.”

Frank let out a sigh through his nostrils, shaking his head. Matt couldn’t possibly know how your face had haunted him every damn minute since he left. The evenings spent staring at his phone, guilt at how he’d ended it eating him alive while contemplating dialing your number only to turn to a bottle of pills and a glass of whiskey to numb the urges. Not a night went by that he didn’t dream of your face; the one you made as you laid against his chest in the afterglow of love making, all flushed and ethereal with pleasure. And how all those dreams turned to nightmares the moment he pictured what you looked like after he left. He imagined images of you alone in bed after he’d broken your heart, crying out for him and missing him like an actress in one of those stupid made for TV Christmas movies you liked to make fun of. All the regret he still felt at having to hurt you like that. How desperately he wanted to reach out, to hold you again. But he knew it was best if he stayed away. So he did.

“So what you been up to since, huh buddy? Hiding out? Plotting your next kill?” Matt asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice

“I ain’t hidin’ from shit.”

“You’re hiding from her.” Matt pointed at the closed bedroom door. “Broke her heart so you could go out and shed all that blood guilt free, huh?”

“She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it.”

“Yeah? That how you go through life, Frank? Pushing anybody who bothers to care away just so you can be the world’s loneliest little soldier?”

“Better than all the pussy-ass shit you do, Red.”

“You mean actually help people? Be of service to others?”

“That right? Are you of service, Red? You serve? You think you’re some kinda hero, just cause you go running around in your pajamas? You’re just a goddamned knight in shining armor, coming home after playing make believe to save her like you save the city. Like she’s not a goddamn adult who can handle herself.”

Matt pushed himself off the chair and stalked over to the couch, bending down to get his face right in Frank’s. He kept his tone level, wanting to make sure it was known just how angry he was without risking waking you from the noise. Frank didn’t flinch as Matt invaded his personal space, nostrils flaring.

“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had stayed, Frank. If you could get your shit together and not run in the other direction the minute a good thing walks into your life.”

“You wait until her bed was cold at least or you come in the second I left?”

Matt’s hand flew out before he even had time to think, connecting with Frank’s face with a loud smack. Frank flinched, eyes going wide in surprise at the outburst. Matt staggered backwards, pacing in a circle and running a hand through his hair in frustration. Pain seared through Frank’s head as he realized just how bad of shape he was in. A backhand like that normally wouldn’t have phased him, but with the fresh injuries plaguing his body, he struggled to hide the pain behind his stoic face. He could have found the strength to fight back, but didn’t want to. Letting Matt have his tantrum, he watched as he collected himself.

“Goddamn it. Goddamn you.” Matt bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. “I’m sorry, I apologize.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“She wouldn’t want me to…” Matt trailed off “You really think that’s all it is between me and her? Just sex? Was that all she was to you?”

“Don’t you dare goddamn say that about her.”

“ She’s so much more to me, Frank. And I’m happy to have cleaned up your mess if it means I get to have her in my life.”

“Yeah that right? You do it to prove a point? Take my woman to get back at me cause you don’t like how I operate?”

His woman. His woman?! As if you ever belonged to Frank.

“I did it because she’s pregnant.” Matt spat, finally reaching his breaking point.

If he couldn’t use his fists to hurt Frank right now, he figured he’d instead drop a court-worthy bombshell right in his lap.

“And the baby has as good a chance being yours as it is mine.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts@laaadygisbooornex3@ninacotte@uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705@endofthelinegang@buckyssugarchick@hellskitchenswhore@pixviee@themikkapika@bisexualbith@labellapeaky@theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi@aesthetic0cherryblossom @lokifae42 @plutosbearr @kneelforloki

[the-shedevil-writes]

Words of Affirmation (Matt Murdock x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Matt is a very logical man. It's one of your favorite things about your boyfriend. But when you need comfort and he only offers solutions to your problems, it pushes you away. With help from Foggy and Karen, he learns about love languages—and realizes what he really needed to do. WORD COUNT: 2.2k WARNINGS: Miscommunication. Slight arguing.

NOTES: Anyone else feeling the Matt Murdock drought since the show ended? :( Needed to write some for my main man. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Matt and Y/n had been together for a little over a year now, and the honeymoon phase was slowly slipping and being replaced with domesticated bliss. The routine they built together was put together by a foundation of tender love and care they had nested. Such as, her swinging by his office with lunch for him. Or when Matt would ask the florist which flowers were pink so he could fill her kitchen vase with her favorite color. Small things to brighten each other’s day. 

And that aspect of their relationship was perfect. Filled with consideration and a sense of knowing each other… But she had been feeling struck by a horrible mood lately. She was going through a bad streak at work where it felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Her hair was at an awkward length because of a messed up haircut she had gotten recently (thank god, Matt was blind). And she hadn’t had time to go to the gym because of her hectic work schedule lately.

It just felt like everything was wrong. Everything brushed her the wrong way. 

She tried to get the support of her boyfriend, but it was like pulling teeth. Matt was a very logical man, and that was something she loved about him. Whenever she was spiraling with anxiety or overthinking something, he was always there to remind her of the more objective truth.

 ‘Nobody is gonna notice.’ ‘It’s just one mistake, nobody will be mad at you.’ ‘The world isn’t ending because of this.’ 

But sometimes that just isn’t what she wanted to hear. And that strategy blew up in his face one night.

One night, after an already stressful day at work, she and Matt were supposed to go to dinner. But the dress she had really wanted to wear didn’t fit right. It was a beautiful, bright blue silk dress that was supposed to hug her curves just right. She had bought it just for Matt because she knew his heightened senses loved the feeling of the material. It was an expensive buy, but she knew it’d get some use with Matt around.

Yet it didn’t look like it had a few months ago. She tried to take in deep breaths, but they were shaky. She was just a little bloated because of her cycle, and she knew that. But it was more than that. She felt like her skin was overly oily, and her hair wasn’t at its shiny, voluminous peak.  The skin on her legs was dry from the winter cold starting to settle in. The ill-fitting dress was just the cherry on top. 

“Sweetheart, we've got twenty minutes before we have to get in the cab, and you haven’t even started your makeup.” He said, peeking his head in.

She stared at herself in the mirror, unhappy with herself. 

“I don’t wanna go.” She said, and she knew she was being dramatic. But she felt just awful. 

Matt’s brows furrowed, and genuine concern washed over him. “What? Why? You’ve been wanting to go to this restaurant for a while now.” He pointed out, which made her feel worse. Because she was looking forward to this. She had seen all the new desserts online and wanted to try some with him. Yet she just felt so… off that she didn’t want to.

“I don’t feel right. I- I think I’m just really tired or something.” She said softly

“Well, I told you to take a nap earlier.” He said. 

Ding. Another thing that made her feel worse. She didn’t want to take a nap because she wanted to get some extra work done at home before her next shift. But his pointing it out just made her feel like he was rubbing it in.

“I couldn’t. And I just don’t look good today, and this dress isn’t fitting right.” She complained, looking over at him as he leaned against the door. He was already dressed in a nice white dress shirt and pants. He always looked nice- it was easy for him. Even though she was getting annoyed, she did always appreciate how dressed up he was. For work. For dates. For errands. He always looked put together… She didn’t feel put together, much less look it. 

“Then wear another dress.” He stated simply, and he was met with furious silence. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“What’s wrong? I’m sure you look fine.” He said, confused, and starting to get a little frustrated himself. Even without his super senses, he could tell she was angry. He didn’t need to hear her fast beating heart to understand the frustration building around her. “You know that I don’t care.” He tried to joke, pointing to his eyes… Bad timing.

“You don’t care?” She snapped, “I just- I try so hard to look and feel nice, and you don’t care? I wear the silk and the lotion and the makeup, and-” She stammered. “It’s not working tonight, but have you ever even cared?”

Matt walked further into the room, sensing her spiral. “Hey, hey, sweetie, it’s not that I don’t care. You just know that… I can’t see you. You could be wearing a plastic bag, and all I’d be able to sense is that you’re wearing less.” He tried to explain, reaching to hold her hips.

But it wasn’t really about the looks, and she was too tense and filled with emotion to be able to talk through her feelings directly. “I’m not going.” She said.

He sighed and raised his hands. “Fine. Fine. Whatever you want.” He said, not understanding where all this sudden anger came from. 

“So we didn’t go to dinner. I went home, and she’s barely talked to me since.” Matt said to his friends, looking for advice. 

Foggy and Karen stared at him from across the booth at Josie’s slack-jawed. 

“You’re… you’re joking, right?” Foggy asked after he told them what had happened. 

He furrowed his brows. “No, why would I be joking?” 

Karen scoffed and put her hands on her mouth in disbelief before going, “Jesus, Matt, why would you say… any of that?” 

He looked around confused and leaned in. “Say what? I didn’t say anything. I just told her the truth.”

“So you’re telling me. That your super-hot girlfriend is feeling bad about herself, and you essentially told her that her efforts have been for nothing.” Foggy said.

“On top of telling her multiple times what she should do or should’ve done,” Karen added, “Which is probably the worst part of that.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do any of that. I was just trying to be honest.” He defended himself, but was definitely starting to understand. 

Karen took a sip of her Long Island iced tea in front of her. “It just sounds like you weren’t really listening to her.”

“Karen, I can’t not listen to anybody.” He said with a huff.

“Matt.” She chided. Her voice was a warning that he needed to actually listen here: “Trying to simply fix everything isn’t listening to her. Do you know what her love language is?”

He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “No, what’s that?” 

“Matt, you’ve been dating this girl for over a year, and you guys have never talked about this?” Foggy asked, surprised. 

“No. No, I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” He replied, and as much as he wanted the Let’s Shame Matt parade to end, he felt that he needed to feel it.

Karen chimed in again. “It’s like how people give and receive love. There’s like physical touch, gift giving, acts of service-”

“Quality time. Words of affirmation.” Foggy chimed in.

Matt just listened now, wanting to understand this new concept. 

“What does she like? What’s something you do that sends her over the moon?” Foggy asked.

He thought about it. It was hard because it felt like they did everything. He bought her flowers. He was over every weekend. They’d help each other around their respective apartments. It’s not like they were lacking in the physical touch department. 

Then he really thought about it, and a memory popped up. It was from a few months back. She had been studying so hard for a promotion at work. This important test to advance up. And when she came back, revealing that she had gotten the promotion and had received one of the highest scores, he hugged her, of course, then said. “I knew you could do it. My sweet girl is so smart. So so smart.” And that had rendered her speechless. Then she proceeded to practically pounce on him, which he remembered in more vivid detail.

“She… she really likes it when I compliment her.” He said to them.

“Words of affirmation,” Karen said with her hand out, “That’s what I was thinking it was. Because when was the last time you did that?” 

… That test was the last time he remembered. “The time I’m thinking about was a few months back. I’m sure there were other times, but what I’m thinking about was obvious.” He sipped his beer again. “It’s just hard because it’s not like I can see her,” Matt explained why he was so infrequent at this.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you flirt, bud. You can definitely do it without sight. I’m just surprised you’re so bad at it with your actual girlfriend.” He teased

“Hey.” Matt warned with an expression that told him to cool it, “I’m trying.”

“Tomorrow. Go apologize, and use your words to show her just how much you love her.” Karen interrupted the two.

That’s how Matt ended up at her apartment with a bouquet of lilies in his hand and a slice of her favorite cake in a plastic takeout box. The kind of cake with the strawberries and syrupy glaze she liked. He opened the door using the key she had given him. 

“Sweetheart? It’s me.” He called out, “You home?” 

There was no answer, but it’s not like he didn’t know. He could hear her heartbeat in her room, and it had picked up when he opened the door. 

He walked down the hall to her bedroom and gently opened the door. The smell of her vanilla candle filled his senses. The millionth rewatch of her favorite rom-com, Pretty Woman, played on her TV. She lay strewn across in bed in his old Columbia law T-Shirt, she had had it so long that she had practically forgotten it was originally his, and some velvety pajama shorts. 

“Hi.” She said, a drop in her usual tone, but she didn’t stop him. Her eyes were set on the television. 

“Hi, sweetie.” He said, walking in. “I got you some things.” He said, gently putting the lilies and the cake on her bedside table. 

She looked them over. “Thank you.” Even though she was still mad at him, she didn’t want to seem unappreciative. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently reached out to hold her hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about the other night. I- I wasn’t listening to how you felt. And I should’ve been a lot more considerate instead of just trying to fix everything.” He said, “That wasn’t fair to you.”

Wow. He hit the nail on the head. She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief.

“Who’d you talk to?” She asked suspect. As much as she wanted to laugh at that, she didn’t want him to blow it off so easily. So she didn’t change her face.

“Karen and Foggy. Who beat some sense into me.” He said, and he looked over at her for a second before leaning down. “And just reminded me of how beautiful and stunning and clever my girl is.” He said gently before kissing her temple.

He heard her heart leap in speed as her eyes widened. 

He gave another kiss on her cheek. “I’m so lucky. So so smart and driven. Always working so hard.” He said, his voice low, and she looked up at him, nodding. She sat up a little so he didn’t have to lean so far. 

“You know, when we’re out together, I can hear all the heads turning to get a good look at you. I can hear their hearts skipping beats because of how beautiful you are.” He whispered just before her lips and then pressed a gentle kiss. 

“Jesus, Matt. Where’s all this coming from?” She asked breathlessly, now wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting him closer. 

“I just realized I wasn’t properly showing my love and appreciation.” He said, “I have a lot to talk about, and a lot of time not doing it to make up for.” 

She smiled. Practically beamed. “Thank you…” She said feeling much better already. 

His hands gently traced up her legs. “You smell really good. You know I like that cherry shampoo.” He said, and he reached up and felt the material of her shirt along her waist, “And I love when you wear my old shirts. I’m sure you look much better than I ever did wearing them.” He planted a kiss on her neck, “Much prettier.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Matt,” She said, sighing, relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages. 

“Oh, sweetheart, we can’t have that.” He shook his head, “Your heartbeat is my favorite sound in the world. I love making it speed up like this.” He said before kissing her again. And again. And again. 

[jeffbuckleysconvent]

sub!Matt is true Matt

imagine telling him to come inside for the first time and he's sorta panicking bc WHAT

but then you whisper in his ear about how much u love him that u want him inside of u gjsfisnfn

oh he’d be a fiend for whispers. the gentle rasp in your voice, your smirk that he can hear in the tone. but matt is so sub. catholic = masochist = submission. easy. he doesn’t like wearing condoms because of the sensory issues with them (or so he says..) so you two rely on the pull and pray, and a lot of tissues for when he cums five minutes in. but on his birthday, you finally let him finish in you. in all your glory. the pussy he’s come to memorize. it’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him, The lazy smile on his face after. he keeps hugging you, muttering about how much he loves you. it’s a moment of pleasure, but he still gets all sleepy after, falling asleep on your chest.

[mcrdvcks]

afterglow

summary: Matt is used to you—your routine in the morning, your humming while cooking. But one day, you stop, sending him into a spiral. word count: 2.8k+ pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader notes: i don't know where this came from, i just knew i needed soft, protective matt who's in love and married. also the tags give a little away, lol warnings/tags: slight angst, a little miscommunication (or rather none? it's a surprise), fluff, mention of pregnancy, protective!matt

Matt woke slowly, awareness settling over him in layers—the gentle hum of the city waking up outside, the familiar warmth of the sheets beside him, the quiet shuffle of your footsteps. He smiled softly, turning slightly in anticipation of the ritual he'd grown to love.

Every morning, without fail, you'd lean over, your breath warm against his cheek, murmuring a quiet goodbye before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Except today, you didn't.

He waited a heartbeat longer, then another, a crease forming between his brows. The sound of your footsteps moved farther away, toward the front door, the jangle of keys loud and grating in the unexpected silence.

“Y/N?” he called out softly, confused. “Everything okay?”

A brief pause, then your voice floated back, strangely distant, slightly distracted. “Yeah, Matt. Everything’s fine. I—I just have to go. I'll see you later, alright?”

He listened intently, straining to read between the lines, but your heartbeat was steady, calm. Nothing to suggest anger or distress, just... preoccupation.

Before he could respond, the door closed quietly behind you, the latch clicking with a heavy finality that settled uncomfortably in his chest.

Matt stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how empty the apartment felt without your voice to fill it. It was strange—disturbing, even—how quickly he’d grown accustomed to you, to the soft murmurs of your laughter, your whispered reassurances, your casual chatter about your day. He’d never intended to become this dependent, this attached again.

The minutes ticked by, and he reluctantly forced himself to stand, shaking off the uneasy feeling in his gut. You're fine, he reminded himself. It's nothing.

But the nagging thought lingered, refusing to leave him alone. You never left without a goodbye kiss. Never.

He tried to go about his morning—coffee brewing, shower warming—but everything felt off. The rooms echoed in your absence, the silence more pronounced than usual, more uncomfortable.

By the time Foggy walked into the office later that morning, Matt was already restless, fingers tapping absently against his desk.

“You alright, buddy?” Foggy asked cautiously, stopping in the doorway. “You're doing the pacing thing.”

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his red lenses. “It's nothing. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Foggy said slowly, unconvinced. “Want to talk about it?”

Matt hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line before he finally admitted quietly, “It's just... Y/N left in a hurry this morning. Didn't say goodbye like usual.”

Foggy snorted softly, leaning against the doorframe. “You mean she didn’t give you your customary farewell kiss? Tragedy strikes Nelson, Murdock, and Page. Should I call CNN?”

“Foggy,” Matt warned lightly, irritation tinging his voice. “I know it sounds trivial—”

“Hey, it’s not trivial,” Foggy cut him off gently, stepping closer, his tone softening. “Not to you. And if it bothers you that much, maybe you should just ask?”

Matt sighed deeply, leaning back against the desk. He didn’t want to admit just how much it bothered him—how your silence felt more painful than any physical blow. He’d promised himself he'd never become this vulnerable again, never let someone’s absence affect him so intensely.

But here he was, unraveling at the mere lack of your whispered goodbye.

Foggy cut through his thoughts. “Also, Karen’s not coming in today. Said somethin’ personal came up.”

Matt straightened slightly, his brow creasing again. "Personal? Did she say anything else?"

Foggy shook his head, moving toward his own desk. "Nope. Just that it was important. Why? Think it's related to Y/N?"

Matt hesitated, shifting uneasily. "I don't know. Just feels weird. Karen usually gives more details."

"True," Foggy said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just a coincidence. Or maybe they went out shopping or something. Who knows? You know girls—they have secrets we mere mortals aren't allowed to understand."

Matt sighed softly, rubbing at his temple. "Maybe."

Foggy watched him closely for a moment before offering gently, "Listen, if it's bugging you this much, just call her."

Matt shook his head firmly, mouth tightening. "No. It's probably nothing. I'm overthinking this."

"Yeah, because you never overthink things," Foggy teased gently. "Look, just promise me you'll ask her about it tonight, alright?"

Matt hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll talk to her."

"Good," Foggy said decisively, dropping into his chair. "Now, can we please do some actual work around here?"

Matt smiled faintly, but his mind stayed firmly fixed on you—wondering where you'd gone, what you hadn't told him, and why that sudden distance between you felt like a rapidly widening canyon.

---

In the sterile brightness of the doctor's office, you sat quietly beside Karen, fingers nervously drumming against your knee.

"You alright?" Karen asked softly, nudging you gently. "You've barely said a word since we got here."

You gave her a small, nervous smile. "Sorry, just—thinking."

Karen tilted her head slightly, studying your expression carefully. "Is there a reason you haven't told Matt you're here?"

You hesitated, eyes downcast. "It's... complicated."

Karen sighed patiently. "Y/N, it's Matt. He adores you. Whatever's going on, he'll understand."

"I know," you admitted softly, glancing away. "I just don't want to get his hopes up, you know? Especially if it's nothing."

Karen squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Well, whatever happens, I'm here."

You relaxed slightly, grateful for her presence. "Thanks, Karen."

The door opened gently, and Dr. Reed stepped inside, clipboard in hand. Her smile was warm, calming. "Y/N, sorry for the wait."

You sat up straighter, heart suddenly pounding. "No worries. So...?"

Dr. Reed's smile grew brighter as she nodded. "Congratulations. You're pregnant."

Your breath caught sharply, a sudden rush of relief and nerves flooding through you. "Oh, wow. Really?"

"Really," Dr. Reed confirmed warmly. "You're about five weeks along. Everything looks good so far. Any questions?"

You blinked slowly, mind still spinning. "No—um, not yet."

"Take your time," the doctor said gently. "Make sure to schedule your next appointment at reception before you leave."

"Thank you," you whispered, still in a daze.

Karen waited until the doctor left the room, then turned to you with a wide smile. "Oh my god, Y/N! Congratulations!"

You laughed softly, the sound shaky, but happy. "Thank you."

"So," Karen asked cautiously, watching your face. "Are you gonna tell Matt tonight?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "I—I want to surprise him. I need some time to figure it out."

Karen gave you a knowing look. "Alright. But don't wait too long. Matt picks up on things faster than most people."

You nodded quietly, a faint smile touching your lips. "I know."

---

You stepped into the apartment quietly that evening, heartbeat steady but slightly quicker than normal. Matt was already home, sitting on the couch, head turned toward you at your entrance. "Hey," he greeted quietly, carefully neutral.

You crossed the room, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Hi."

He tensed slightly, barely perceptible. "You left early this morning."

You winced inwardly, keeping your voice casual. "Yeah, I had an appointment."

"Oh," Matt said softly. He paused, clearly waiting for more. When you didn’t continue, he cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

You settled beside him, hesitating only slightly before nodding. "Yeah. Everything’s good."

Matt's jaw tightened briefly. "You sure? You've been... quiet today."

You reached over, squeezing his hand gently. "Just a busy day, Matt. I promise."

He sighed softly, nodding slowly. "Alright."

You could sense the faint distance in his voice, and guilt twisted uncomfortably in your chest. You had no idea your quietness was hitting him this hard, but you needed time to plan how you'd break the news. A pregnancy was big—life-changing—and you wanted to do it right.

"So," you said softly, changing the topic gently. "How was your day?"

He tilted his head slightly, voice carefully neutral again. "Fine."

You squeezed his hand again, leaning gently against him. "Just fine?"

Matt sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple, clearly trying to relax. "Better now."

You smiled softly, reassured. Soon you'd tell him everything. For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of Matt's presence, blissfully unaware of how deeply he'd felt your silence that morning.

For now, the secret could wait. Just a little longer.

---

The next morning, Matt woke up earlier than usual, awareness pulling him awake slowly. He lay still for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo lingering faintly on the pillow. Turning toward your side of the bed, he realized you weren’t there, again.

He sat up, rubbing at his face, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling deep in his chest.

He dressed quickly, fingers brushing along the familiar surfaces of the apartment. Something about the air felt different, emptier somehow.

He moved toward the kitchen, listening for the comforting sounds of your usual morning routine—the gentle humming, the low hiss of the coffee maker—but instead was met with silence.

“Y/N?” Matt called out softly, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Right here,” your voice answered, coming from across the room. You sounded distracted, a little hurried.

Matt stepped closer to you, hand finding your shoulder gently. “No coffee today?”

You paused, body stilling slightly under his touch. “Oh—right, I’m sorry. I got caught up in something. Let me put it on real quick—”

“No, it’s okay,” Matt interrupted quietly, pulling back slightly, unable to keep the slight edge from his voice. “I can do it myself.”

“Matt,” you said softly, picking up on his unease, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, attempting to soften his tone. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

You hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to explain and needing to maintain your surprise. After a beat, you squeezed his hand lightly. “I have to head out a bit earlier today. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

He nodded slowly, listening to the rustle of you gathering your things. “Yeah, okay.”

A moment of silence passed between you before you stepped closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek lightly. You leaned up, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. It was brief, different somehow, as though you were holding yourself back.

“Have a good day,” you murmured gently.

Matt swallowed quietly. “You too.”

When the apartment door clicked shut behind you, he remained standing there, heart heavy with uncertainty.

---

Matt was restless by the time he got to the office, his steps heavier than usual. As soon as he entered, Foggy spoke up from his desk, sounding a bit concerned.

“Morning, sunshine. You okay?”

Matt only sighed in response, shrugging out of his coat. “Just tired.”

Foggy was silent for a beat before cautiously adding, “And Y/N?”

“Left early again,” Matt answered quietly, his voice carrying a weight that Foggy recognized immediately.

Before Foggy could respond, the office door opened, and Karen stepped inside. “Morning, guys,” she greeted warmly.

Foggy smiled at her. “Glad to see you’re back. Everything okay yesterday?”

Karen paused briefly, her eyes flickering toward Matt. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just helping out a friend.”

Matt’s head lifted slightly, his attention fully focused on Karen now. “A friend?”

Karen cleared her throat gently, moving to her desk. “Just something she needed moral support for. Nothing big.”

Matt went very still, realization dawning slowly. “Y/N?”

Karen hesitated, clearly unsure how much she could say. “Matt, it’s not—”

“Is something wrong with her?” Matt interrupted quickly, a sharper edge creeping into his voice. “Did she ask you to keep it from me?”

Karen sighed softly, choosing her words carefully. “She’s fine. Completely fine, I promise.”

Foggy, picking up on the tense atmosphere, spoke gently. “Hey, buddy, maybe just ask Y/N about it directly? She’ll tell you, I’m sure.”

Matt shook his head, frustration slipping into his tone. “That’s the thing—she hasn’t. She’s been acting distant, distracted. Now she’s going to you instead of me. If something’s going on—”

“Matt,” Karen cut in softly, firmly, “it’s nothing bad. Trust her, okay? She loves you.”

Matt was quiet for a long moment before nodding slowly, exhaling deeply. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Karen exchanged a glance with Foggy, clearly wishing she could say more.

But Matt sat heavily in his chair, frustration gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, because he knew Karen was right. He did trust you. Completely. But the small, unsettling changes, your silence, your distance—it all felt painfully familiar, like the calm before the inevitable storm.

---

It was evening when Matt finally made his way back home, standing quietly outside the apartment door for a moment. He paused, breathing in deeply, his senses flooded with familiarity—the scent of garlic and spices wafting from inside, the soft melody of your voice humming along gently with a quiet song playing from your phone.

He relaxed slightly, your calm voice comforting him more than he cared to admit. Maybe he'd been overreacting after all. He opened the door slowly, stepping inside.

The moment the latch clicked shut behind him, the soft humming stopped abruptly.

"Matt," you greeted quietly, clearly startled. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hey," he said carefully, sensing the immediate shift in your demeanor. He set his cane aside, turning toward you hesitantly. "Smells good. You've been busy?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd make dinner tonight," you replied softly, a forced casualness in your voice. You moved away, turning down the music. "It'll be ready soon."

Matt felt his shoulders tighten at the sudden distance in your voice, and he stepped closer, gently catching your wrist as you brushed past him. "Y/N, wait."

You stopped, body stiffening. "Matt?"

He hesitated, his voice suddenly thick with a quiet insecurity he rarely allowed himself to show. "Did I—did I do something?"

You froze, heartbeat quickening. "What? No, Matt, of course not."

He shook his head slowly, his voice quiet, unsure. "You've been pulling away, and if I've upset you, I—"

You felt the guilt pierce deeply at his words, your vision blurring with tears despite your best efforts. Your voice shook slightly as you interrupted, "Matt, that's not it at all."

He paused immediately, sensing the faint tremor in your breath, the subtle hitch in your heartbeat. Realization hit sharply when he felt the slight warmth of tears slip silently down your cheek.

His hands rose instinctively, gently cupping your face, thumb carefully brushing away the tears. "Sweetheart, you're crying. What's wrong?"

You shook your head softly, voice trembling. "I—I wanted to surprise you. But I messed it all up, and now you're mad at me, and—"

"I'm not mad," Matt said quickly, gently pulling you into him. "I'm just confused. Please, Y/N, tell me what's going on."

You took a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, voice muffled against his shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's okay," he murmured gently, holding you close. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Just talk to me."

You nodded softly, calming yourself before pulling away slightly. You took a steadying breath, gently pulling his hand with you. "Come here. I have something for you."

Matt followed quietly, confusion and curiosity flickering across his face. You led him to the kitchen counter, carefully placing the small box you'd prepared earlier into his hands.

He paused, fingers slowly running over the smooth cardboard. His brow knitted together in confusion. "What is it?"

You smiled softly, heart fluttering nervously. "Open it."

Carefully, Matt opened the lid, gently feeling around inside. His fingers brushed the soft fabric inside, tiny buttons and sleeves of the little baby onesie beneath his fingertips. Realization crashed into him abruptly, his breath hitching sharply in his chest.

"Y/N," he whispered hoarsely, voice choked with emotion. "Are you—?"

You bit your lip nervously, tears pricking your eyes again, this time from relief and happiness. "Yeah. I'm pregnant, Matt. We're having a baby."

He stood utterly still for a long moment, absorbing your words, before a radiant, disbelieving smile slowly spread across his face. "A baby? Really?"

You nodded, laughing softly through your tears. "Really."

Matt let out a breathless laugh of disbelief and joy, quickly wrapping you into a tight embrace, pressing soft, urgent kisses against your temple and cheeks.

"You had me worried," he whispered shakily, voice filled with relief. "I thought—"

"I'm so sorry," you said softly, holding him tightly. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Matt shook his head gently, smiling warmly against your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. This—this is the best surprise you could've given me."

He cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing away lingering tears as he pressed his forehead softly against yours, voice filled with warmth and quiet awe. "We're having a baby."

You smiled gently, your heart finally calming as the misunderstanding melted away. "We are."

And for the first time in days, everything felt perfectly right again.

[anyalikeslasagna]

may not love the new stuff but marvel KNOWS how to fuckin cast

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐ ROOFTOPS AFTER DARK

summary — in which a new vigilante has popped up in hell's kitchen, and he keeps taking up space on your rooftop. already annoyed that he's making your life difficult, you're ready to tear him a new one.

pairings — matt murdock x invisible!reader

pronouns — none

word count — 1306

note — invisible!reader is so special to me i have so many small ideas half-written.

IT WAS YOUR ROOFTOP. there was no reason to be so civil and let the strange man in a black mask take up mantle on it . . . but you were curious. 

reports had been popping up for weeks now. they were calling the masked man the devil of hell’s kitchen and naturally you were curious. even more so curious when he got to places before you did, leaving behind a pile of groaning, unconscious men that should’ve been yours to take down.

it wasn’t just a jealousy thing. sure, you had been doing this way longer and brought little attention to it because you kept yourself invisible for most of the time. some of which you even staged as accidents. sometimes scaffolding just . . . fell . . . and happened to land a few bad guys in hospital. but here was this guy, the proclaimed devil, and he was making your job harder. he was leaving trails that left you having to hide away for a while, watching from a distance while he did the most insane martial arts you had ever seen in between getting his ass kicked.

knowing nothing about him, you remained invisible, stretching the ability to its absolute limit to cover your breathing and heartbeat also. there was something about him and his mannerisms that made you wary — the way he would tilt his head when he heard something was strange. then again, considering the god-awful mask that covered most of his face, you just assumed it had something to do with being a knock-off superhero with a shitty design. 

each footstep was silent. crossing the rooftop without a sound, you didn’t stop until you were hardly a metre away, watching, calculating. he was doing that head tilt thing again, each siren in the distance catching his attention, but the way he paused in the silence as if he could hear something that wasn’t there was intriguing. it was like that every time, and when you followed, it always led you into watching him take on the demons lurking around the dark alleys. 

he was well-built in a way you hadn’t managed to notice before. the skin-tight, black long-sleeved shirt hugged every muscle from his shoulders down to the point where he may as well have been wearing no shirt at all. there was no way it possibly protected him from anything, very much unlike the black tactical gear you sported that was thick enough to form lightweight armour. it was almost like he was asking for a beating.

without much of a thought, you broke concentration on your heartbeat, not that that had ever been a problem before. people couldn’t just hear heartbeats.

with the fist that was suddenly flying towards your face, apparently the devil could.

you reacted on pure instinct, ducking immediately and layering a shield back over your heartbeat to mask it once more. for good measure, you jumped high enough to twist your legs around his neck, maneuvering until you used as much force as you could to drop both of you to the ground, pinning him effectively. he felt stronger as he struggled, but he didn’t let up so easily. 

“woah,” you gasped in the cold night’s air, replenishing the lack of oxygen in your lungs. “look!” you felt that familiar shudder spring down your spine as you turned yourself visible again. “i’m . . . i didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” you couldn’t help but trail off, trying to decipher how he even knew you were there when there was no way he could see you and your breathing was masked. all you did was drop the cover on your heartbeat . . .

his head tilted again, lips forming a thin line as his hands found your arm. you watched, unsure, not exactly wanting to loosen your grip on pinning him just yet. “who are you?”

“no one, really,” you answered with a shrug. he wasn’t struggling anymore, and letting go of him was probably the nicest way you could go about this situation right now. you released his limbs, watching as he quickly got to his feet and put distance between you. “who are you?”

“no one,” he answered, lips curling in a silent taunt. 

“you know this is my roof, right?” you drawled, not bothering to stand up and instead getting comfortable on the cold roof floor by crossing your legs. “like, it’s been my roof for well over a year now, man.”

the devil’s head tilted again in the same direction as your movements. it was as if he were tracking them with every sense he had. “you’re never here when i am.”

“i’m always here.”

something seemed to change in him, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place, the flick of a switch sparking a light through the darkness. “always here, huh . . .” he trailed off, “you’re the ghost they speak of, aren’t you?” you watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging against his shirt. you noticed that he didn’t look in your direction when he spoke, facing just off to the left of you as if you weren’t there at all.

the only thing ever printed in newspapers about you was as indirect as conspiracy could get. every bad person something terrible had happened to had been at the cause of an accident that couldn’t be proven to be at the fault of another person. there were few theories that some sort of ghost was lurking around hell’s kitchen, doing the dirty work and covering it up, and though they were right because it was you, they would never learn of that. it was more so something to place the blame on because it was so absurd. the devil’s handiwork painted sharply across the front pages, your little ghost clean-up act was barely even thought of anymore. it was more of a joke than anything, and you had heard people at your day job laughing at the absurdity of it all. all they would ever know was that various strings of bad luck struck down bad people.

“mhm,” you hummed, not affirmatively nor in denial, but just a gentle acknowledgement that you were listening. “you make an awful mess around here, don’t you think? you’re gonna create some enemies by ending up on the front page of the new york bulletin every week.”

“i get shit done,” his voice was a lot more gruff than it had been seconds ago. “i get information before the ambulance gets to them — before the cops.” it was a dig that you didn’t take too kindly. you weren’t interested in information from any of the people you took down, you just wanted to see justice be served because the cops were nothing but useless and you were sick and tired of watching yet another family be let down. 

“find your own roof,” was all you could say, covering up both your breathing and your heartbeat once more. the devil reacted by pursing his lips, looking from left to right as if you had disappeared. “wait . . .” you mumbled, and his head swiveled back to where you were, like he had finally pinpointed your location. the location you hadn’t moved from since you took him down mere minutes ago. “ . . . you can’t see me.”

he made no move in denying it. instead of saying anything, he turned his back to you and jumped over the edge of the building. by the time you stood up and rushed over to the edge, nothing but dimly lit side-streets stared back. still, in the depths of the night, you shouted, “find your own fucking roof!” and hoped he heard it from wherever he had disappeared to.

[farfromstrange]

Teacher’s Pet | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Pairing: Professor!Matt Murdock x F!Student!Reader

Summary: Professor Murdock shows you how remarkable you are.

Warnings: Smut (18+), professor/student relationship, age gap, religious imagery, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl), use of honorifics (professor, sir), praise kink, oral f!receiving, soft!dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, hand on neck, basically porn without plot

A/N: I’m not gonna lie, this is heavily inspired by Charlie’s role as Mr. Teacher in Adults. It may have gotten a little bit out of hand, but it was nice to just write again. I haven’t written in past tense in a while, so I may be a little rusty. Is it my best work? Probably not, but I wanted to post it anyway. I hope you enjoy!

WC: 1.9k

Read Me On AO3!

“You wanted to see me?”

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you stepped into his office. It was dark, safe for the last bit of daylight streaming in through the window front. A storm had been rustling the trees on campus all day, and you barely escaped the rain on your way to class. Even now, the afternoon sun was overshadowed by a blanket of grey, sucking the light out of every room you walked into.

It wasn’t like him to ask you over during office hours—it wasn’t safe, he had once told you—but you wouldn’t dare complain. 

He was sitting at his desk, his silhouette only faintly illuminated. When he picked up on your heartbeat, though, he perked up. Your name rolled off his lips effortlessly. “Yes,” he said, rising to his feet, “Please, come in. Close the door.”

You stepped forward, and the closer you came, the clearer you could see him. Round glasses perched upon his nose, strands of brown hair glinting silver, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone; he was ever the sinful picture of a man that often starred in your wettest dreams.

His fingers flexed around the edge of his mahogany desk. You paid no attention to the mess of legal essays in front of him, not when he looked like that—like he’d had a rough day, but the moment you walked in, it turned brighter. 

“Everything okay?” you asked. 

You watched as he lifted a familiar stack of paper out of the pile on his desk. “I wanted to talk about your essay,” he said. 

“My essay?”

“Yes.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Is something wrong with it?”

“What?” He tilted his head at the frantic change in your pulse. “No, it’s… It’s remarkable.”

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Oh.”

You were so scared of failure, scared of not being enough, and scared of disappointing him that the thought of positive resonance to your work hadn’t even crossed your mind until he uttered it. 

Matt rounded his desk and walked toward you, slowly, as if you were a frightened deer in headlights. “Your stance on the shortcomings of our justice system and its core,” he said, placing a gentle hand over his heart, “I’ve never read anything like it. My first read-through, you actually had me stumped because I… I have never thought about it the way you have, and I’ve been a lawyer for a very long time.”

You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, blood pulsing in your cheeks. It was wrong, you knew that, craving a man twice your age as if he were the air you breathed. But standing this close to him, all you could think about was how his fingers had felt the last time they were buried deep inside you. 

He cupped your chin. “Hey, look at me,” he said. You did. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m giving you an A.”

Your knees buckled. There was something about the way he towered over you. You could only see your reflection in his glasses, but you knew the brown eyes hiding behind them. How soft they turned and how they crinkled when he smiled. You liked to imagine they were soft now, too, just like his smile. 

“An A?” you breathed. 

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Did you think I was gonna fail you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d never–”

“I don’t want you giving me special treatment just ‘cause you’re fucking me.”

A breathless chuckle rumbled through him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You have no idea how remarkable you are, do you?”

Your tongue darted out, licking the tip of his thumb. All the while, you were peeking up at him through hooded eyes he did not need to see to drown in. “Show me,” you purred. “Show me how remarkable I am, Professor.”

He nearly fainted. 

A shiver ran from his head down to where his toes curled. You were all over him, smelling of vanilla and something so distinctly you he had long grown addicted to. Matt had been to confession many times since meeting you. He tried to repent for what he was feeling, but how could it possibly be sinful to want you and to have you when it felt so right?

He could pray to God all he wanted; when your body was on his or you were under him, writhing on his cock, or even when he was buried deep between your thighs like a man starved, he felt closer to divinity than he ever had before.

His hand wrapped around your neck, and he pulled you in, finally. He knew every inch of you by heart, yet he kissed you as if it was the first time, and he still had something to prove. 

His free hand slipped around your waist, then lower. He read the fabric of your skirt the same way he would read Braille. He brushed the edge, just barely. “You’re wearing that skirt again,” he groaned. “Y’know what it does to me.”

You moaned. “That’s why I wore it.”

“Oh, you wore it for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Matt inhaled sharply. “What’d you just call me?”

“Sir,” you purred again. 

“Oh.”

It was just one word, sir, but it opened something in him—a part of him that was primal and buried deep. It made his cock throb painfully in his slacks.

He pulled your hips flush to his. You could feel how hard he was, pressing against your soaking cunt through far too many layers of fabric, and your words turned into a breathy moan messily against his lips. 

The leg of his desk trembled when he lifted you on it. His lips slipped from yours, down your neck, and the outline of your breasts as he sank to his knees on the hardwood floor. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t–” do that here, you wanted to say.

He cut you off with a sharp tug to the edge of the table. “Mhm, we shouldn’t,” he agreed, but your legs were already over his shoulders. 

“Matthew.”

He tutted. “Not my name, sweetheart.”

“M’sorry, Professor. Sir…”

“Shh,” he inched closer, “It’s okay. I’m just showing you how remarkable you are. Be a good girl for me and take it, yeah?”

His glasses fell to the floor. Your panties ripped in two. No warning, not a second for you to think—he wrapped his lips around you, and he feasted.

He parted your folds, licked, and sucked, tasted all of you, and drowned in you, completely. The pleasure wrapped a noose around your core, pulling you even closer to the edge. You were sure you would end up with splinters under your nails and crescent imprints of his fingers on your skin, but God, if that meant he was yours and you were his and you could carry that evidence like a tattoo on your body, it was worth it.

You cried out his name. You were right there…

He pulled away. 

You choked on a breath, “No…”

There was no regret in his eyes, though, only desperation in the way he kissed you—devoured you. You could taste yourself on his lips. Every last thought you had dissipated. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured. “I have you.”

And he did. You should never have doubted it. 

He unbuckled his belt, freed himself from the tight confines of his slacks, and then he filled you. One thrust, and his cock, thick and hard and pulsing, filled every inch of you. Like he was made for you, or you were made for him. You breathed gasps into each other’s mouths and sustained each other like oxygen. You became one then.

Matt cupped your face. He didn’t move, didn’t even think, he just stayed buried so deep inside you that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Every prominent ridge and vein of his cock had already left their mark; your pussy was his, entirely, the same way his cock—his body and entire soul—belonged to you. Neither of you needed words when your bodies spoke the same language. 

“Please,” you begged. 

He shushed you again. “M’gonna let you come, I promise. Just…” His voice cracked. 

He didn’t look into your eyes, he couldn’t, but the way he held you felt like he had a direct line to your soul. 

“Just need to be inside you.” He gave a tentative thrust. Your name escaped him, soft, wrecked, broken. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Another. “So good.”

His breathy moans, from high to low to high again, were a symphony conducted solely for your pleasure, you were sure. The way they slipped past his lips into your mouth, or echoed off your sweaty skin when he licked down your neck, tasting your pulse through the skin. No one else got to see him like this. 

Your jaw was slack with the sound of your moans. Matt didn’t hesitate; he pushed two fingers against your tongue, deep enough to fill you—fill you everywhere. You gagged, but you endured.

“Good girl,” he said. 

You moaned around his digits, sucking and licking until the salt of his sweat exploded on your tongue. Though he pulled away far too soon. 

“C’mere.”

He rubbed his wet fingers against your swollen clit, tight little circles that made your entire world spin. The heat engulfed you. The earth shook beneath you. Every drag of his cock made it harder to hold on, to keep the wave from crashing in, but it just kept building. 

He angled his hips just right, and the sound you made was barely human. He tucked you into his shoulder, closer, closer. “Gonna come?” he asked. 

You could only nod. 

The kiss he pressed to your temple almost made you cry. 

“Can I–” you choked on a moan. 

He chuckled, the sound a mere breath against your ear. “Can you come?”

You whimpered, yes. 

His hips stuttered, holding onto the last bit of sanity he had left, breathing, “Yeah, you can, baby. Come for me.”

The wave crashed in. Your orgasm tore through you, throwing your head back into the palm of his hand. Matt was right there, though. He caught you, and he fucked you through it like the gentleman he was.

“That’s it. That’s– fuck!”

The dominos started falling, and with your cunt clenched so tightly around him, he came, too.

In the wake of it, quiet settled in. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, through it and into yours. You felt the way his chest heaved with every labored breath he took, face buried in the crook of his neck so he could feel you, all of you. 

He rode out his orgasm with the softest moans you had ever heard from him, his cock twitching until he was sure he had filled you to the brim. Then, he stilled. 

“Jesus,” Matt’s voice came muffled against your skin. 

You slid the essays under your ass aside. “I, uh, think we ruined those,” you said. 

He kissed you. Softly, at first, with a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s fine. I can’t read the hard copies anyway.”

You wanted to laugh, but before you knew it, he flipped you under him. His desk creaked under the weight of both of you, but he did not care. He didn’t pull out. No, he kissed you, he devoured you, and nothing else mattered but that. 

Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @lucienofthelakes @mochie-is-a-librarian @buckyssugarchick @unclearblur @xoxabs88xox

[paperbacksinner]

Matt Murdock NSFW Alphabet

MDNI

---

A — Aftercare:

He excels at it. Whether he just edged you for hours, made you beg, or completely wrecked you… he’s immediately in soft, grounding mode after. Cleaning you up, soothing praise, holding you tight while stroking your hair. If you cried or got overwhelmed? He’ll stay up whispering how safe you are.

“You did so well, baby. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

B — Body Part (His Favorite):

Your thighs. He loves gripping them, spreading them, biting into them. Also obsessed with how they shake when you’re about to come — or can’t stop coming.

> Bonus: He’s unfairly turned on by your neck. He can hear your pulse spike when he gets close.

C — Cum:

Matt’s possessive — and it shows in how and where he finishes. He loves cumming inside you the most — deep, slow thrusts as you pulse around him, then just staying there, buried in you, watching his release leak out as you tremble. But he also has a thing for cumming on your thighs, in your mouth (especially when you keep eye contact and swallow), your stomach and chest, and in your pussy, again and again, until you’re wrecked.

He gets obsessed with the sight — the slick mix of you and him dripping out after he pulls out. Sometimes he’ll finger it back in, watching you squirm. Other times he’ll make you keep it in and kiss you like he didn’t just ruin you five seconds ago.

“Look at that,” he’ll whisper, dragging a finger through the mess between your legs. “So full of me.”

***can y’all tell I like this letter***

D — Dirty Talk:

Oh, God. He’s filthy. Slow, low, articulate — he talks you through everything. From teasing promises to whispered commands. But he can also praise the hell out of you. He’ll tell you what he’s doing, what you’re doing to him, and exactly how he’s going to ruin you.

“You want to come that bad? Say please. Look at me and say it.”

E — Experience:

Extremely experienced — and not just physically. Emotionally, mentally, psychologically. He understands desire, vulnerability, need. And he knows exactly how to handle all of it.

F — Favorite Position:

Missionary with your legs pushed back, deep and eye-locked. He loves watching your face when he breaks you apart. Also into riding — slow grind while he controls the rhythm with a hand on your throat or hips.

G — Goofy:

Almost never in bed. But if you’re feeling nervous or insecure? He’ll crack a soft smile, kiss your nose, say something to make you laugh and feel safe — then flip you over and make you scream.

H — Hair:

Keeps it trimmed and neat — not bare, but groomed. He loves when you tug his hair during oral. And he’s obsessed with your hair — fisting it, holding it while he kisses you, getting lost in the scent.

I — Intimacy:

Even when it’s rough, it’s intimate. Eye contact, slow strokes, hands on your heart and hips. He wants you to feel every inch of him. Emotional connection turns him on as much as physical.

J — Jack Off:

Only when he’s missing you — and only with something of yours nearby (shirt, panties, scent). But he prefers holding out, letting the tension build until he’s desperate and rough with you.

K — Kinks:

Edging, overstimulation, oral fixation, power/control play, begging, praise and degradation mix, restraints (rope, silk ties, his belt), voice kink — he knows what his voice does to you, sensation play — touch, heat, etc., he uses all of it.

L — Location:

Matt is bold when it comes to where he wants to be with you. Whether it’s his dimly lit apartment, the rooftop under the stars, or even his office after a long day of fighting crime, he craves the mix of risk and intimacy. Every place feels charged with tension because he’s always aware of the stakes — but when he’s with you, those risks only deepen the connection and desire between you.

M — Motivation:

The moment your body leans toward his. The way you exhale his name. How you look at him like he’s the only man in the world. He’s feral for you and shows it without hesitation.

N — NO:

He will never push a hard limit. Never do anything that triggers fear, shame, or trauma. He can play rough, but your safety — physical and emotional — comes first.

O — Oral (Giving):

Oh, sweetheart.

He is obsessed.

He could eat you out for hours. It’s not just foreplay — it’s his favorite thing. Holding your thighs open, locking in with his senses. Reading every gasp, pulse, tremble. He wants you to shake, cry, beg.

“Don’t run. Take it. I’m not stopping ‘til you’re soaked.”

P — Pace:

Usually slow and deep. Teasing. Controlled. But when you beg, when you scream his name? He breaks. Then he’s relentless, pounding into you until you’re shaking.

Q — Quickies:

Matt’s not really one for rushed sex, but when the moment hits—whether it’s in an empty stairwell, in the kitchen while dinner is simmering, or right before he has to rush out on patrol. If you’re alone in a stairwell? He’ll lift your thigh, slip inside, and whisper filth into your ear while covering your mouth. He respects the power in quickies, but he usually prefers taking his time to truly savor you. Still, when there’s no other choice, he makes every second count, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

R — Risk:

Calculated risk? Yes. He lives for tension — just not at your expense. If you want to play with it, he’s game. But he won’t put you in a position where you don’t feel safe.

S — Stamina:

Ridiculous. He can go all night. He’ll edge you for hours, then give you multiple rounds. And he’s still hard and aching for you long after you collapse.

T — Toys:

Absolutely into them — for you, mostly. Vibrators, dildos, plugs — he uses them to tease, to warm you up, to overstimulate. He’s not insecure. He loves watching you fall apart with one while he whispers praise.

“That’s it. Show me how bad you need me.”

U — Unfair:

Completely.

He’ll tease you until you cry. He’ll make you beg, then pull back. He’ll use his mouth until you’re seconds from release — then stop and pin your hips down.

“What’s wrong, baby? Thought you wanted to come.”

V — Volume:

Mostly controlled — low growls, dirty whispers. But when he really loses it? Deep moans, breathy curses, your name like a prayer.

W — Wild Card:

Matt loves surprising you with restraint—using his tie, belt, or even just one strong hand to hold your wrists above your head while he takes control. One of his favorite secret pleasures is mirror sex. Even though he can’t see the reflection himself, he loves how you squirm and move, knowing you’re being watched and can see yourself in all your raw, beautiful vulnerability. That mix of your self-awareness and his intense touch drives both of you wild in ways words can’t capture.

X — X-ray:

Not a monster, but well-endowed. Thick, curved just enough to hit exactly where it matters. He knows how to use every inch of it with devastating accuracy.

Y — Yearning:

He craves you constantly. Even on patrol, when he’s in danger — he’ll think of your voice, your taste, your skin. He aches for you when you’re apart. He needs you like air.

Z — ZZZ:

Matt doesn’t get much sleep, but when he finally does, it’s always wrapped around you. Shirtless and still carrying the weight of the day, his heartbeat presses steady against your back, one hand resting possessively on your hip or thigh. Even in sleep, he’s utterly protective, as if you’re the only thing grounding him in the chaos.

[spiderooos]

cleanse me of my sins (God, i swear i’ll try) ﾒ matt murdock

syn. matt murdock atones for his sins in a place he should’ve stopped a long time ago.

includes. matt murdock x ex!reader, angst, suggestive content, implied smut (i can’t write it outright soz), biblical/religious imagery and catholic guilt.

notes. another cross post lol. i will write more for him if you’d like though!

masterlist

Night had befallen the Kitchen eons ago, its soothing lullabies singing everyone to sleep, while he found himself fighting a losing game. He'd always wondered (see: admonished) how Adam found it so hard to resist Eve's temptation as a child, but he understood now, clearly. He shouldn't have even been there, every reason to had left when she did, after so many tries. The rain thrummed outside the window, shut tight against its fighting winds as she eyed the man in front of her, worrying her lower lip as she saw him hunch over on to his side after he shut her window.

"Oh, Matt," she sighed, helping him stand as stumbled to reach her. Leaning his weight on her, she led him to the bed she'd been occupying barely a while back, and Matt could still smell her fragrant shampoo that had wafted away from his sheets, right there. She hadn't changed it.

The soft pattering of feet stopped in front of him, and she set down a kit, the stinging smells of rubbing alcohol and any and all ointments he'd ever need inside, seeping through the opened first aid kit she still kept stocked up. "I'm sorry. I know I said—"

"Don't."

She sounded tired, and although the sleep was still woven in her voice, it was almost like she was still his. He'd heard the same voice a month back, when she couldn't take any more of him pushing her away. "Shirt off."

The soft spoken demand was followed quickly. Matt had no energy to argue as a hiss left his lips, smacking away her hand that was pressing a cloth wet with sanguine liquids and rubbing alcohol that she’d poured onto it to his bleeding wound, and even though he couldn't see her, he felt the glare she sent his way. Her voice was quiet, tired, worried as she asked him what had happened. His own Holy Grail asking him what had happened, like it hadn't been the reason for her to leave, but nevertheless, he answered. He'd fought his own Goliath, but he hadn't been David. No, he couldn't be David, the shepherd boy would've been someone like Karen. Someone like her. Someone so unassuming yet kind, gentle yet vicious when provoked. He wasn't any of those things, he was a danger, he was the serpent who only lured in people to their demise in his coiling web. He lured them in until they repented, and he knew it was better like that. Because he knew, Heknew and would be there for them. But Matthew couldn't, not when they didn't ask for it.  

She couldn't tear her eyes away, staring at the array of cuts and bruises as she pressed the flesh together, tenderly yet skilfully stitching sutures along the torn skin, closing up the gaping wound on his abdomen, before tending to the lesser worrying wounds, eyes slowly blurring. Gentle hands caressed her face as he wiped away the saltwater tracks as they fled slowly. "Matthew. . ." she whispered, holding onto his hands but not taking it off her face. She couldn't— not yet. She ran a hand on his bruised knuckles, kissing them out of gentle and tender ritual as she looked up at him from where she was kneeling between his legs.

His breath shuddered, hand moving to cradle her jaw and cupping the back of her neck as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers, tasting the salt on her lips. She moved back and he could taste the saline water that felt pungent in the air as it still flowed slowly down her cheeks. "I'm sorry." "I know." She didn't. She wasn't sure what it was for this time, but she knew he was. He was always sorry he couldn't be there, instead of actually being there. "I'm sorry too."

She moved her head again, pressing her lips to his, slotting against the other. She felt herself move off of the floor, and being guided into his embrace as she carded her hands through his hair, settling into his lap.

"Forgive me," he murmured, lips pressing against her jaw and moving lower to the column of her throat, still soft and shaky. He shouldn't be doing this, not to her. They shouldn't be here again.

"Okay."

She moved her head back, hands trailing down his chest as she ground her hips down, slow and steady unlike her shaky exhales of his name like a steady prayer when he moved lower, hands under her (his) shirt. She never gave it back.

He called her name, soft. She helped him take off her shirt. They'd promised to never go here again. He directed her back to his lips, kissing her like she was his lifeline, all heavy and yet soft, like she was an angel he was too scared to hurt, the returned fervour bruising as she nudged him back on the bed.

Matt laid her down on the soft silk sheets, ones she'd gotten back when it made sense to have them in her flat. The pressure she used on him, something that felt almost secondary and movement from memory had him keening in her touch as he groaned, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. She'd known him inside and out, always had, and Matt feared that she always would. She been there every time, for every wound, every half-assed excuse for being late and not being there, until she excused herself completely.

Her name was like calling onto his sweetest haven. "Sweetheart, I need. . . I—"

She shushed him, hands helping him take off his trousers while his hands followed the saccharine scent in between her legs. She'd been his own angel when they'd met, understanding his every plea and word, even if he hadn't said it out loud. "Matthew."

Her voice was soft, and he'd coax out every single sound from her right then. They sounded like the singing of hymns unknown to anyone except those who knew her. Every whimper, every ragged breath of air, every sweet sound felt like the nectar of the sweetest ambrosia, his forbidden fruit. Forgive me, Lord, the one part of his mind that had tried fighting to remind him of what was right said, forgive me for my sins. He'd given into temptation. The child who'd said he could be much better than Adam was now the one to give into temptation. If this was sin, he'd be a sinner for the rest of his life, praying, worshipping and confessing. It felt like he'd done something right, rain pouring down on them like the heavens hated him for coming here to her, someone he knew He adored. No human was like her, and he knew then this would be the last time he'd be here (liar, the Devil whispered).

"Matt, I need. . ." "I know, sweetheart. I know."

She felt the pressure turn almost euphoric, that blissful edge she so craved reaching closer as he devoured her like a man starved, like this was his last supper before he was lost to the world and she let him. He'd been her saving grace, and in a way would always be. He'd been the one to show her what it truly felt like to be someone's, she'd been his, he'd been hers (She'd always be his). She dragged him back up, tasting her on his lips, the feeling pushing her back a month to where she'd been in a different time, the memory of what could've been almost suffocating, like she hadn't been there to watch it all fall down, taking swings at her exterior until she couldn’t hold up her fight.

"I'm sorry." "It's alright."

It was so easy to understand the other, like the words to a prayer in a tongue of their own, one neither stopped uttering even as she'd left, her hands pushing him back down against the headboards, savouring in the sight. Her memory was the only place she could see it after this as she led him through till they were joined, unable to tell where one began and the other ended.

The pouring against the window turned harsh as they were wrapped in each other, just each other and only each other. Always the other. Every sense could only see her, and his head and mind felt like he could fall from the highest cliff and she'd be there, waiting at the bottom, (he hoped she would. . . She alwayswould). She smelled like her vanilla lotion, the fresh scent of her perfume that he'd said didn't clog his senses, the bitter sheen of perspiration mixing with the saccharine scent of her creating his own sweet delight. His didn't smell her at his house anymore (it used to be home, now he’s not so sure). He could hear her quick thrumming of her heartbeat, his own heart chasing to follow hers.

She stuttered when her hands pressed into the wound in his abdomen, stopping. "Sorry."

Matt groaned, shaking his head as he began helping her move once again, chasing after that high. "It's alright."

They repeated the same when he pushed her down on her back, taking over as his pace began quickening, his hand moving up to wrap around her neck. "It's okay." She moved her head up the slightest bit, letting him press onto the sides of her throat as he pressed his lips to hers, sloppy and clashing, as they explored a familiar safe place. He'd been her safe place since college, but she'd had enough. Even Foggy couldn't convince her this time. She couldn't watch him kill himself again. She couldn't watch him lose himself again.

The coil snapped and tipped over the broken edge of the precipice as the dam broke, her breath hiccupping as she tried to calm the growing ache in her heart. She'd been waiting for the feeling to end so she could distance herself, she owed herself that much, but now. . . now she'd rather do it all again. He pulled her up and into his arms, humming her favourite song as he ran his hands through her hair, praying to Him that she wasn't crying over him. She didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve her tears.

"I'm here. . . I'm right here."

He was swaying the two back and forth and she gripped onto his warm shoulders as tightly as she could, folding herself into him as she calmed her breathing to the steady drum of his heart. It was still a song she could sing on her worst times, and she hated she knew it would sooth her pain.

She looked up at the sound of his voice calling her name. It still made her feel that sweet warmth, the enveloping heat scorching her body as he ran his arm soothingly on her bare skin, burning his touch until she washed it away. She didn't know if she would, the lingering ache much more silent with his presence than without him.

"I'm sorry." "So am I."

He'd smiled when she'd said that the last time, right before she left his apartment. She truly was unearthly, apologising for not being strong enough to stay (—"I love you, but I. . . I can't— I won't watch you kill yourself any longer, Matt." She had tears in her eyes but he couldn't find it in himself to wipe them for her like he'd promised he would. It was raining as she left—) and him apologising for not being enough for her to want to stay. Although, with every night he stayed awake, clinging onto her side of the bed, her pillow cradled in his arms that now smelled like him, he realised he was sorry that he never made her feel enough to stay.

"Forgive me."

She smiled at him, a soft echo of his name falling from her lips because she didn't know if she could ever stop. She should. It had been his commitment to being Daredevil and everything that had come along with it, it had been how he tended to forget about Matthew Michael Murdock and everything that he had as a person, not as a persona that broke them apart— quick and unnerving and unpredictable and messy like everything else about them. Maybe she would, but it wouldn't be then that she would. Maybe she never would, but that was her own fatal sin. God never told her what to do when a good man hurt her by staying back, like she hurt him by walking away. A good man who still held her heart in his hands. She couldn't ask it back, not yet. Maybe in the future. It wasn't today.

"I do."

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