#daredevil blurb

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

[chvoswxtch]

taste

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt just wants a taste.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: it’s thanksgiving here today, and despite my mixed feelings about this holiday, I am thankful for all of y’all. so, here’s a little treat from me to you bc I haven’t shown our favorite human disaster some love in awhile. 🖤

word count: 1.1k

Matt lost track of how long he’d had his head buried between your thighs. Your hair was still damp from your shower earlier, fresh notes of citrus and green apple lingering on the silk sheets. That coupled with the crisp sandalwood of his own cologne from the worn Columbia shirt of his you had stolen to bed intertwined with your own distinct scent lit a fire of desire within him. He’d discarded a layer of his black suit with every silent step he took descending the staircase that led up to the rooftop door.

It had been a bad night, and Matt’s inherent Catholic guilt was at an all time high. So, he positioned himself exactly where he thought he belonged.

On his knees.

Matt held your soft thighs in his rough, calloused hands, his warm tongue lazily tumbling over your swollen clit over and over again. He slipped his tongue through your soaked folds much like he had the first time he had really kissed you; when a sweet kiss good night had ended with your back firmly pressed up against your front door and the two of you panting into each other's mouths.

Angelic pleas for mercy had sounded from your lips in various intervals, but your greedy fingers continued to tug him just a little closer by tight grips on his chestnut strands. Neither one of you seemed to be able to quit the other. Matt’s nose was nuzzled against your public bone, and his plump lips were wrapped around your clit, alternating between suckling languidly at a pace that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and dragging his tongue up and down the length of your entire pussy meticulously.

Every time you let out a desperate chant of his name and rolled your hips up in a needy way in search of more, Matt groaned loudly and moved his own hips in tandem. He had been rutting against the mattress for God only knows how long now, the front of his briefs completely soaked from the weeping slit on the head of his throbbing cock. He’d never been so painfully hard in his life.

But Matt didn’t feel like he had earned a release yet.

Despite the several tangy coats of your arousal on his tongue, he wanted more. He needed just a little more.

Just one more, he told himself, then he’d finally let himself fuck you. But right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Face nestled against your pussy, feeling your heartbeat pounding against his welcoming tongue, smelling the scent that was uniquely you right under his nose, hearing the verbal reassurances of how much you needed him, and how badly you wanted him.

Praises of his name and confessions of love slowly lifted the self imposed weight that laid heavy on his chest like cement. If an angel like you believed the Devil deserved Heaven, then maybe he did. You didn’t ask for his penance, but he wanted to give it. He wanted to be worthy of being the man you made him feel like he was.

Matt ignored the ache in his jaw, and he whimpered against your core as his briefs snagged against the sensitive head of his cock just right. He wasn’t gonna last long. Not with the heavenly aroma of you surrounding his senses completely, the sweet sound of your pleasure hitting his ears, the thrum of your impending climax thundering against his tongue.

He never wanted to come up for air. If this was how he was going to die, drowning in the tidal wave of your gratification, then he’d die a happy man.

Matt used his index and middle finger to spread your slicked pussy apart, eagerly swirling his tongue around your pulsing nub before switching to flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across it like a metronome. God, you were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet. He couldn’t tell where his saliva ended and where your own essence started, but he didn’t fucking care. The only taste he wanted seared into his taste buds was yours anyway.

He delved his tongue as deep within your cunt as he could, fucking you with it sensually while his nose bumped against your overstimulated clit repeatedly. You were close again. He could tell by the hitch in your breaths and the quiver in your soft thighs that were enclosed tightly around his head.

Matt never felt like he deserved you, so he made it his personal mission to make sure he earned you.

As soon as another wave of your candied tang drenched his mouth and dripped down his stubbled chin, Matt exploded with a pathetic whimper, feeling his own sticky warmth coating his lower abdomen and the tops of his thighs. The only reason he pulled his face away from your cunt was because you weakly pushed at his shoulders with your trembling hands.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Matty…I can’t. I-God, I need a minute-“

The breathless pants sounding from your lips were an elegant symphony to his ears. He closed his eyes while resting his head on your smooth thigh, trying to catch his own breath. For several minutes neither of you said anything, just laid there tangled up in the sheets together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

All of a sudden, Matt sensed a shift in you. He heard your eyes flutter open, and felt the way you shifted your head off the pillow to peer down at him in curiosity.

“Matty…did…did you-“

“Yeah.”

He didn’t bother hiding it. He wasn’t ashamed. He’d be pissed when the cloud of lust currently fogging up his brain eventually cleared and he realized he ruined yet another set of silk sheets, but right now, he was too satisfied to give a shit about anything other than this moment with you.

A melodic giggle immediately erupted from your chest, and Matt squeezed your thigh teasingly in retaliation which caused you to squeal.

“Hey! I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s actually quite flattering that you enjoy having your head between my thighs so much that you can come from that alone.”

“Sweetheart, you could make me come just by reading our grocery list.”

Another round of angelic giggles fell from your lips, and a quiet whine of disapproval sounded from Matt when he felt you shifting in bed. Much to his dismay, you moved your soft and warm thigh away from under his head, which caused him to purse his plush lips in a pout. But before he could even protest, you were gently pushing him onto his back and brushing your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Maybe I’ll test that theory later, but right now, I’d rather make you come with my mouth in a different way.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @thyme-in-a-bubble @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[rancidpancakebatter]

"Uhluhu" - [M.M.]

Pairings: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Summary: Matt tells he loves you, and you want to say it back

Word Count: 1.6k words

Content: Like nothing. Safe for all.

( Masterlist )

A/N: Sorry, I've been on a bit of a hiatus. Finals are coming up and it's super stressful so I haven't gotten to write much. I found this in my drafts so I'll let yall have it. Hopefully, it will hold you over for a bit.

You had been dating Matt for several months now. You met him as the devil first. He was limping through the alley, and you heard him curse as he tripped over a trash can. When you looked out your window, you saw him collapse face-first in grime. You called out to him but heard no response. So against your better judgement, you climbed down your fire escape to check on the stranger. 

Matt woke up with a familiar feeling of deja-vu. He woke up on a soft towel draped over a couch, shirtless, with gentle hands tending to his wounds. His waking up was not peaceful in any way. He bolted upright with a large gasp ripping from his chest. You fell back on the floor in surprise at his outburst. 

He rattled off a lot of questions, and it took you a moment to respond to them as you tried to coax him into lying back down. You told him your name, where you had found him, and that he was about to bleed out from a bullet wound. 

“Luckily for you, it was a clean shot. I don't know how to fish out a bullet, but I was able to find a decent tutorial for stitches. You should be fine if you rest.”

Matt learned to trust you over time. You never asked for his identity or pushed him to talk about his past. He respected you for that. 

One night you got a text from him. It was only an address. You made your way up in the shaky elevator and knocked tentatively on the door. You were surprised when a blind man answered and greeted you by name. 

He asked you a bunch of questions about The Black Mask and what you knew of him, but you refused to answer, going as far as to threaten him. He chuckled at you as he opened a beer. 

“Trust me, honey, I’m not someone you wanna pick a fight with.”

You bristled at the nickname, but something about his voice was familiar. You raised the candle you grabbed from the coffee table higher, ready to swing if he got closer. 

He walked past you and opened up an armoire in the corner. You couldn’t see what he was doing. He threw something at you that you struggled to catch it. You ran your fingers over the familiar dark material. He heard your heart race before it started to settle again, and he knew then that you had connected the dots. 

“Really? A candle? What was your plan there?” He asked with a teasing condescension you’ve come to love. 

You chuckled as you set it back down. “I was gonna use that right hook you taught me.” 

It wasn’t long until he asked you out, the next day if you remembered correctly. He introduced you to his friends one night at Josie’s. Foggy and Karen adored you, and It was funny to see Matt’s lifelong friend tease him. 

“I mean honestly, what do you see in this ruffian?”

“I dunno Foggy, I guess he’s charming. In his own…weird…brooding way”

Dating Matt has changed your life. You have never known true admiration- devotion- like his. Anything you ask for, he would deliver (if he had the financial means to do so). He had been working on a healthy life balance for a while and with you, he felt he had it. And he felt the need to pay you back for that in any way he could. Flowers, home-cooked meals, cuddles, you name it. 

You were a well-known writer for The Bulletin. You often got to work from home. For the past month, you’ve been working from Matt’s. He had joked a few times about how you “moved in,” and if he noticed the way your heart raced when he said that, he didn’t mention it. 

You had been burned in the past. Pretty severally. So your relationship with Matt seemed almost unreal a lot of the time. While you didn’t have the crushing catholic guilt Matt did, you still had some baggage you were carrying around. 

Last week Matt told you that he loved you. He assured you that you didn’t have to say it back, that he still meant it either way. He’s said it every night as you drifted off to sleep and every morning as he left for work since then. Those three little words. 

You wanted to say them back- you really really did. You knew that if you spoke them, you would mean it; it would be the truth. Truthfully you did. But what a terrifying truth. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You wanted to move in officially. You want to wake up to him every day. You wanted the good and the bad and the ugly. You wanted him, devil and all. But no matter how many hours you spent hyping yourself up, when he came home, you just couldn’t do it. 

You decided to change that today. You couldn’t let him go any longer thinking you don’t feel the same way. You could say it; you had to say it. 

You spent all evening cooking chicken piccata with homemade noodles. You went to the farmers market this morning to get fresh, local ingredients because you know Matt can taste the preservatives on grocery produce. You even baked fresh bread, made fruit tarts, and currently, you were tossing a salad. 

You had put on some of Matt’s vinyls, and when he walked in, he was almost overwhelmed. He could smell your cooking from the front entrance, and it only got closer as he approached his apartment. He could hear you humming and singing along once he got to his floor, and your gentle footsteps could be heard against the kitchen tiles. 

You heard the door open and were sure Matt could hear your heart rate pick up. You walked away from the stove and saw him taking off his coat. 

“Matty!” 

You ran into his arms, and he didn’t hesitate to catch you, spinning you around and holding you close. You melted into his embrace as you buried your head into his neck, taking a deep breath and letting his woodsy cologne wash over you. His hands were pressed flat against your back; you could feel his warmth soaking you to the bone. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“Your sauce is starting to stick.” You could hear the smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and liked to rile you up. 

“Oh shit,” you mumbled as you dropped down from his arms and raced back into the kitchen to stir. 

He followed after you at a much more leisurely pace, leaning against the island as you worked. 

“Let’s see here, I smell…chicken, lemons, garlic, raspberries, bread, parsley, and…is that fresh capers?”

You grinned, “Yes, bloodhound, these are fresh capers. I wanted to make you a nice dinner. Now go get changed and comfy. It’s almost ready.” 

You felt his hands on your waist and leaned back into him on instinct. He took the opportunity to place a kiss on your temple. 

“On it boss.” 

He stepped into the bedroom, and you began setting up the island. You arranged the plates and placed the glasses of water (and an opened beer next to Matt’s). By the time he returned, you were taking the rolls out of the oven. 

The power Matthew Murdock held was entirely too dangerous. He emerged wearing a v-neck and his trusty grey sweats. You knew he felt your stare. He could probably hear your heart rate pick up at the sight of him. His smile grew into that smirk you knew very well, and you knew he knew. 

Dinner was great and went off without a hitch. He told you about his day, and you did the same. You talked about big and small, and all the things of the world. He continues to complement your cooking, praising you after every bite. You brought out the fruit tarts, and the both of you munched on them happily. 

Matt set his fork down and looked at you curiously. “What’s all this about?” 

You frightened confusion, and Matt decided to play along. “The food was wonderful, but why did you make a three-course dinner? What’s the occasion?” 

You set your fork down, wiped your mouth with the napkin sitting you your lap, and place it on the counter. Matt could sense your anxiety and wondered if something was wrong. 

“There’s no… occasion, per se. It’s more of an announcement.” Matt tilted his head, and you continued. 

“I uh-” You cleared your throat, trying to force the words out. “I…” 

Matt was patient, silently reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. His own anxiety melted when he felt your pulse slow. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why it’s so hard to say,” you admit with an air of defeat. 

A knowing smile makes its way onto Matt’s face. 

“You want me to guess?” he asked, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze.

“No, no. I want to say it. I want you to hear it come from me.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had been practising saying it all day, saying the words over and over again. 

You forced out the words on your exhale. “Uhluhu”

Matt tilted his head, ”What?”

You took another breath and squeezed his hand, “I love you.”

His face split into a grin. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. You suddenly felt light. 

“I love you, Mathew Murdock. I love you.” 

You couldn’t stop saying it. 

“I love you too.” He said, oh so quietly, but his words dripped with their truth.

Tag List: @barbecuetiddy, @heejinw0rld, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[frankcastlescumslut]

all I can force myself to think about is Matt finding out you’re pregnant on a random night when he gets back from his divine purpose.

instantly afraid because the extra heartbeat sticks out like a sore thumb and he’s unable to fully react besides dramatically sliding down the side of the bed and staring blankly (duh) while trying to hone in on the stupid fast sound, blocking out your breathing to make sure he really is conscious because this means he has to make a choice between staying or leaving.

and obviously he would stay because he knows the pain of an abandoned child and has always secretly hoped to have one of his own, but he also recognizes that he would never fully be happy with himself and/or your growing family because of the slow building resentment from having to abandon daredevil in order to become a father.

and then of course you would grow to resent him for his resentfulness towards the family unit, never fully understanding why he can’t be happy without being the savior of hell’s kitchen. this, in turn, forces you to become insecure about whether or not you and your child are important enough for him to invest in like he has invested in his own glorified endeavors of martyrdom.

and of course he loves you— says he does and means it in his own clausal way. he doesn’t understand how you could even suggest the opposite when he throws himself to the wolves night after night, endangering your family and tossing around his life like he has nine of them to lose. he’s offended you think he would die, especially now that he has a child on the way.

he wonders how long you would be able to make it without mentioning divorce. of course he knows great divorce lawyers and all, but he will never understand how you could suggest something that cruel— he was only doing what God has commanded him to do, protect the unprotected until it became his own flesh and blood because a Murdock is a fighter, and his son would understand one day.

his son would understand, with pride, why his father chose a life of violent servitude, but will never fully comprehend why his mother’s heart breaks every time she unlocks the bedroom window before falling asleep, setting the hidden first aid kit on the bedside table like it’s a consolation prize.

[360iris]

face to face | matt murdock x reader x frank castle

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in my humble abode. I severely hope you’re not here to break any bones, or trash the place. I haven’t gotten around to finding a good healthcare insurance plan and I just mustered up the energy to clean this afternoon- I don’t think I’ll have it in me to do it again for at least another three weeks.” You say exiting the kitchen, filled mug in hand as you walk over to the sectional couch.

“Hurting you isn’t on my agenda.” Shadowed in the darkness of an unlit corner, he speaks in an even tone. Tilting his head forward as he registers the sound of you sinking into the cushions of the couch comfortably. Your heartbeat moving steadily, completely at ease as though he’d stopped by to check on a friend and not as though he’d slipped his way into the residence of a complete stranger. “ I want information on Frank Castle, everything you have on him.”

“What do you want to know? His star sign? Place and time of birth? Maybe, what he had for lunch? I’m not an oracle.”

“You may not be, but I know for a fact that you know a hell of a lot more than you’re letting on. And innocent people are going to continue to be impacted and hurt because of your complacency and inaction.” He says severely, like a teacher scolding a student.

You exhale noisily through your nose, leaning forward to set the cup onto the coffee table with a soft clank before settling back, hands clasped together in your lap. “You wouldn’t be the first to give me that speech, and I suspect, nor will you be the last. As far as I hear it, he’s got the whole city up in arms. Emergency rooms full, morgues packed beyond capacity with petty thugs and hardened criminals alike. Certainly has the feds running around like headless chickens, scrambling to oneup him at a game of his own creation.

“Why wouldn’t I just tell you the same thing I’ve told all those cops, detectives and reporters desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame? What makes you any different from them— other than the fact you run around dressed in spandex beating debased criminals and non-law abiding citizens senseless?”

“Because unlike them, I’d know you were lying.” He says stepping forward, edging just a hair into the warm cone of visibility the stovetop light offered. “There’s recent mud residue near the front door, though it hasn’t rained on this side of town at any point in the last 24 hours. And by the state of this apartment, with the delivered groceries and all the ordered meal containers- it’s safe to assume you don’t take to leaving its confines very often, if at all when you can help it.

“Pair this with the subtle hint of the cheap soap he uses lingering in the air, and on those cushions. And the way your heartbeat quickens the longer I go on, leads me to believe he was here, very recently in fact. Almost as though I were mere hours shy of missing his near regular visit.”

“It wouldn’t be,” You speak up, looking away from him but not settling on anything else in particular in the dim space. “A lie, that is. I couldn’t help them- those cops looking to piece together a case, or the reporters attempting to spin a piece on how he turned into this tragic antihero. And I can’t help you, whoever you are under the mask.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” He pried, stepping even closer, the rectangular coffee table being all that separated the two of you.

Standing up from the sofa, you sigh. “Can’t.” —and begin walking towards the hallway behind him, stalling at the precipice.

“Maybe he isn’t the man I once knew, maybe every single one of those men’s lives he takes after this point will count against me just as equally, as if I’d wrung their souls from their bodies myself but,“ —you sigh for what feels like the millionth time this month before looking back at him, his face turned towards the direction of your voice, the hairs of his beard illuminated by the light.

“I can’t help you piece together any leads, or convince him to turn away from the road that lies in front of him. There comes a time in every man’s life when he is allowed to stand face-to-face with how he will live, and in what manner he will die. Once he makes his peace with his self or God-appointed fate, he will charge head first toward it regardless of whether or not it is what he intends.”

Resting a hand to rest on the wall beside you, you squeeze at it, as though attempting to anchor yourself. “I’ll tell you only one thing that may prove to be of some consequence to you tonight, Red. Though regarding how much use it is to you, or if you heed it, that I cannot guarantee.”

“And that is?”

“The Frank Castle you’re dealing with is like that of a bull. Unpredictable and brazen, but singular in his mind and nature. You may succeed in steering him off his path towards destruction- if you act as that of which can deter such a worldly and impulse-driven creature.”

“And how am I supposed to do that exactly?” He asks, feet shuffling as he redistributes the weight between them.

“Be the flag, Red.” You answer, as though your meaning had been obvious. “Find a way to appeal to him, or keep him distracted long enough for someone smarter to come by and take over the task for you. Whichever option suits you best.

“Either way, I’m sure you’ll be able to see yourself out of my home.” —and you’re turning away from him and into the darkened hall. And he simply listens, fists clenched tightly, as your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

[atlaese]

around the block - m.m.

prompt: "tourist asking for directions" summary: lost in the city that never sleeps you find the one man who shouldn't be able to help you navigate the city, yet his kindness makes everything better. pairing: reader x matt murdock   tw: meet-cute, mentions of catholicism (a little joke about a priest), pure fluff tbh! words: 2K. a/n: this is my entry for @fluffyprettykitty's 1K celebration/writing challenge. congratulations again lovie!!! <3. i highly recommend everyone to check out her blog; she's so immensely talented and has something for everyone! <3 it's been a few weeks since I wrote for matty boy, but i just had to use this prompt for him. i hope you enjoy and i very much welcome any feedback <33

p.s. dividers by @firefly-graphics  p.p.s. i now have a library blog! follow @aeristhotle to get notified when i update!

reblogs and feedback are appreciated ✨💗

matt murdock masterlist | all masterlists

You wouldn’t say you were lost per se. Lost was a word that you used for people who didn’t know who they were. People that had gone their whole lives as someone that they weren’t, someone formed by society.

You were just a bit confused at your current location.

You were somewhere in New York, that was obvious (you would recognize those green street signs anywhere). Yet, you had no clue what borough you were in. 

In your opinion, it could either be Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens or any of the other boroughs that made New York the beautiful city it was. 

If you had prepared this impromptu day in the city better, you’d have charged your phone, brought a small map and perhaps met up with one of your friends that lived in the city.

But unfortunately, none of that happened. 

You had to be in the city for a day to attend a meeting at a publisher for one of your clients. You were an independent PR manager, your company on the brink of exponential growth and you’d do a lot for the few clients you had. Flying in for a meeting in another state was not a problem if it meant putting out a good reputation for your company. 

Once your flight arrived in the early morning hours, you got the bad news that your client came down with a sinus infection due to allergies and that the meeting was postponed until further notice. You loved spring, but the pollen really messed up your schedule.

If you had known this ahead, you’d have met up with a dear friend you knew from college, yet they too were unavailable due to a major walk-out at a client’s firm. 

And for your phone… it was honestly a piece of shit. It stopped working when the battery level hit 28% and it also had trouble charging. You needed to bend the charging cable in a certain way for it to charge. Yes, you had been electrocuted twice already. 

So there you were, all alone in New York City, less prepared than ever before.

But New Yorkers were friendly people, right?

You saw a lady pushing a stroller headed your way, her curls bouncing with every step she took as she had a determined look on her face.

“I’m sorry, can I ask something?” you spoke up, a friendly smile plastered on your face.

The woman didn’t even spare a glance as she walked on, and it was only in passing that you saw the white AirPods in her ears. 

You didn’t get discouraged though, as you spotted a man with a suit who seemed to know his way around the city.

“I’m sorry, could I trouble you for a second?”

The man looked at you with big green eyes, a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Excusez-moi, no English, je ne parle pas anglais, désolé.”

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment flooding your entire being. This whole day had morphed from a normal business trip into something where nothing went right. It felt like the equivalent of walking around with socks only to then step into a puddle of water. It wasn’t a nice feeling. 

The only positive thing about today might have been the weather.

Summer had just arrived in New York. It was the time just before the pressing heat that would make the city feel like a bubble that was about to burst. There was a light breeze for you to enjoy, the sun’s beams were warming your skin, making you wish you could read your book in the shade of a tree in Central Park. These were the days that made hauling a book with you every day worth it.

Yet, as much as you wished to go there, you had absolutely no idea how to get there.

You stood in front of a church and you had a few options here. You could go inside and bother the priest for directions (would that count as blasphemy?), or you could bother the sunglasses-wearing man that was sitting on the bench next to the entrance. 

Your choice was quickly made. No need to bother the man of faith when you could bother the handsome stranger with a slight scruff and perfectly coiffed hair. 

The man didn’t react as you sat down next to him, his suit in a crisp state as he seemed to just be enjoying the nice weather during his lunch break.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” you said, an apologetic look on your face, “but I’m a little lost, do you know where exactly we are?”

The man tilted his head your way in confusion, he could have been daydreaming and hadn’t even noticed you sitting down.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“It’s fine,” he said, licking his lips and sitting up a bit straighter. “We’re in Hell’s Kitchen at the moment, but hearing your accent I’ve got a feeling you’re not familiar with the place.”

You let out a little scoff but laughed nonetheless.

“You’ve got a good ear, I am indeed not really familiar with the boroughs, unfortunately. I just need to find my way to Central Park.”

“Got something to do in Central Park?” he inquired, tilting his head in question. His glasses were tinted in a dark colour, not giving any sign of what colour eyes would be hidden behind them. 

“I was just gonna read a bit in the shade before going back to my hotel,” you said. “My meeting was cancelled last minute so now I have the day to spend here.”

“The quintessential New Yorker experience,” he nodded, a ghost of a smile painted on his lips. “Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”

You smiled at his remark, happy that the native New Yorker wouldn’t shun you for doing something like that. 

“Anyway, I have some time to spare, I can walk with you to the park,” he said, quickly looking at the church’s entrance. 

“Oh, really? That would honestly make my day!”

The day really had done a 180 spin. At this point, you were grateful to get directions, so the fact that he would walk you all the way back made you want to hug him. 

You stood up from the bench, failing to hide the smile on your face. Well, he deserved to know how happy this made you. 

But then, your smile faltered a bit. Or a lot even, the smile replaced by your jaw that had gone slack. 

The man had stood up as well, his sunglasses still perched on his nose, his bag slung over his one shoulder and a white cane in his opposite hand. 

A white cane, which was first folded up and laying next to him, was an inconspicuous item that you hadn’t even noticed in your rush to find your current location. 

Maybe that was the moment you felt truly lost. Lost in your subconscious, perhaps, because you really needed to pay attention to your surroundings.

“Oh,” you let out, shaking your head in confusion and gesturing for him to let it be, that you’d ask someone else.

“Are you gesturing right now?” he asked, a sly smile on his lips as his tongue wet them once more. 

Was he… was he laughing at you? Laughing at the confusion that surrounded you, the fact that the one thing you shouldn’t do in front of a blind person was to gesture?

“Yeah, I am so incredibly sorry,” you apologized. If a small thundercloud would come floating above your head and let the rain pour down on only you, you wouldn’t even mind. It could be karma.

“It’s okay, really,” he laughed, “I can still show you the way, I’m quite the navigator.”

He held out his left arm, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Take my arm and then we’ll walk to the park together.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to do something out of your comfort zone.”

“My name is Matt Murdock and my comfort zone encompasses the whole of New York City, just accept my help.”

You laughed at his confident nature and introduction and loosely wrapped your right arm around his left as you let your name softly slip past your lips.

“So, y/n, what do you do that makes you come to the city?”

Matt started walking, a steady rhythm of thumps on the concrete as his cane hit the ground. You fell into step with him, a comfortable tread that was just fast enough for the both of you.

“I’m in PR,” you explained, “I was only supposed to be here today for a meeting, but my client got sick.”

“And you decided to go out on an adventure?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately I wasn’t very well prepared,” you laughed. “But it seems that my day was made a million times better now that I’ve got my own personal guide!”

Matt laughed, and for the whole way to the park, you talked about everything and nothing.

Matt explained his job, hence why he was dressed so fancily and why he could just take a two-hour lunch. 

You told him about your dreams of owning a bigger company & he told you about his colleague and best friend, Foggy. 

“Well, according to my memory, we should be at the park,” Matt announced as you rounded the corner. “Could you confirm that we are indeed at an entrance?”

“Affirmative,” you said, softly squeezing his bicep in excitement. “Does it make me a horrible human if I told you I’m glad my client called in sick?”

A laugh rumbled up through his chest, making him softly shake as you glanced up at him. The rays of the sun were hitting his face just right, giving a small glimpse at the eyes that were a little less hidden beneath the sunglasses. They seemed to be a beautiful brown, with thick lashes framing them. 

“It doesn’t, not in my professional opinion at least.”

You slowly unwrapped yourself from his arm, signalling that this was the point where your ways would part. 

“Thank you, Matt, really, I still would have been walking around Hell’s Kitchen like a chicken without a head without you.”

“It’s not a problem, I enjoyed this… little walk with you,” he smiled, tilting his head down in response. “I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad my distress makes you happy,” you joked. “No, I’m kidding I’m really glad I met you, too.”

“Unfortunately, I have to get back to my office, but next time you’re in the city you might want to get lost in Hell’s Kitchen again.”

“Lost in front of the church, where a man is sitting on a bench?”

Matt nodded as he got his phone out of his bag and held it out to you. 

“I’d love it if you wanted to give me your number? You’d never be lost in the city again, I swear.”

Matt turned out to be right.

You got to know each other even better through the lengthy late-night phone calls and quick e-mails during lunch. During the late evenings in your office, you put each other on speaker to have some company - you would be working on a campaign and he would be preparing his opening statements for a case.

The publisher in New York decided to get you on retainer, meaning that you had to be in the city at least twice a month. It also meant that you got to be with each other a lot more.

And in the end, you really never got lost in that city again, because he was always there to guide you around the block. 

[ragnarachael]

(in no particular order) “ i like you, i really, really like you” + “ last night was something ” for mr matthew murdock himself if you please

the way i fell asleep after reblogging those prompts SFDKFDHKJDS ANYWAAAAAAY y'all can send more prompt things in!! i won't be able to reply today, as i'm dying my hair back to SOMETHING normal for my new job, but:

you can still toss some prompts in my ask box! (list 2 here)

"Last night was..." You find yourself trailing off as you pad towards Matt's kitchen, nearly naked—you pulled the shirt he had on last night that was scattered on the floor as well as your underwear. Matt's shirtless, you can see that over his counter situation in his open concept apartment. "Something."

"Good something, or bad something?" Matt quips, his back to you as he actually sounds like he's cooking. You know he's a big boy, he's probably done this before but your mind is a little bit blown not only from however many amazing orgasms you had last night in his bed.

"Good," you chirp immediately, walking past his small dining table to the kitchen. "Amazing something, even."

"Adding more gleaming reviews to my resume with words like that," Matt teases, not at all tensing up when you slowly press up against his side to watch him swirl scrambled eggs in a pan.

"Shut up," you giggled, hand smacking his bicep as you watch how Matt cooks the eggs. "Did you need help with anything?"

"Nope," Matt replies steadily. "I've done this before, sweetheart. I think a blind man can make some scrambled eggs."

You feel guilt nip at you for Matt calling out your thoughts almost exactly, you try not to show it. "I know that. Need help with anything else?"

"Nah, I've got it," he reassures you before your cheek is pressing against his forearm that's not moving too much.

Soon enough Matt's done with the eggs, you hold out the plates and make your way to the dining table.

The conversation you two make is nice and easy. Matt flirts. You flirt. Soon enough the eggs are gone and you're hit with the reality of what are you.

"I like you," you blurt after a sip of water. "I really, really like you, Matt."

Matt's not phased from your sudden confession and smiles wide as he places your used dishes in the sink, his head tilting in your general direction. "I really, really like you too, honey."

[itsapeterthing]

↳ I currently write for the marvel characters Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes, Xu Shang-Chi, Druig, Jack Russell and Matt Murdock. Find my inbox here and my masterlist with all of their fics here!

↳ Tap “keep reading” to find my full collection of Matt Murdock fics below.

↳ All works are ordered oldest to newest.

Oneshots

Reflections (Matt Murdock x Avenger!Reader)

in which you and matt both have alternate superhero identities that you have been keeping from the other, but one night, your facades come crashing down (fluff)

Blurbs

Autumn Mornings (Matt Murdock x Wife!Reader)

the one where you have a lazy morning with your husband, matt (fluff)

[matt-erialgirl]

Okay, first of all. A huge congratulations on the 1.1 K! That is so well deserved! 🥳💜

Could I please request: C (love confessions) and number 4? 😃❤️

AAAAAAAAAA Sofie babes thank youuu!! This means the whole world love xxxx

Join the party

C-4: "I don't want us to be apart anymore, ever."

Knocks on your window woke you up from a deep sleep, your confusion drawing a frown on your face as you slowly pushed yourself up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You begrudgingly blinked your eyes open, searching on your bedside table frantically for your phone as the knocking continued.

2:43 AM

Your head snapped in your window’s direction, seeing a dark figure on the other side of the glass that should have struck fear in your heart but it didn’t. With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of bed and dragged your feet across your bedroom and towards the window. 

“Matt,” you sighed as you pushed your window all the way up and moved out of the way to let the masked man in, “I have a front door.”

“I know,” he breathed, letting himself in and pulling you towards his chest, “I couldn’t risk being followed to you. Had to do it this way.”

“Where were you?” You asked, pulling back to look him over and pushing the black fabric hiding his eyes up and and off, “are you hurt?”

“I just had to make sure you’re okay,” he told you, his voice shaken and his breath baited, “I had to hear your voice.”

Your heart twisted in your chest as your eyes looked into his panicked, unfocused ones before they traveled to assess his injuries if he had sustained any. You found a couple of scratches and cuts on his face, but nothing else stood out to you.

Matt pushed the gloves off his hands before cradling your face gently in his palm, his eyebrows raising slightly, “I need to tell you something.”

Your heart jumped into your mouth at his gesture and statement, uncertainty and anxiety taking over your mind. Matt had been your friend for years, never had he ever sounded as serious as he did now.

“You’re scaring me, Matty,” you admitted with a half-hearted laugh, shifting on your feet as you felt your skin grow warmer under his touch.

“No, no, there’s no reason to be,” he reassured you, bringing his other hand up to brush through your hair and settle on the back of your neck, the gesture so intimate that your body shivered against his, “I just— I realised something tonight.”

He looked troubled, unsure and almost anxious, his thumbs rubbing circles lightly into your skin, “I don’t want us to be apart anymore, ever.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked him, your brows furrowing in confusion, “Matty, I’m right here.”

“I’m in love with you,” Matt breathed softly, his confession hanging in the air around you, “and I can’t bear to be apart from you.”

You couldn’t form words to tell him that you had been waiting for him to tell you, that you needed him with you - always. So instead of words, you pulled him into a kiss. Letting your fingers run up the nape of his neck to tangle in his hair, you kissed him slow and sweet, gently swiping your tongue across his. You could hear your heart in your ears and how rapidly it was beating in your chest. He tasted of cinnamon and something else so uniquely him; you couldn’t get enough. 

You stayed in each other’s embrace by your open window for what felt like hours. Just holding each other, engulfing one another in warmth, each of you not quite ready to pull away from the other just yet.

[cowgurrrl]

What's In A Name?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was rewatching daredevil

Summary: You settle on a new nickname for Matthew [1.3k]

Warnings: fluff, lawyer talk, brief mention of Jack, Daredevil things, June’s first time writing Matt so pls be nice, I think that’s it??

He's realized it changes depending on the day. You refer to him in court as your colleague, Mr. Murdock, or even Counselor. You call him Murdock to get his attention or scold him for something. That Idiot in The Mask before you find out about his nightly escapades. That Idiot in The Mask after you find out about his nightly escapades. But more often than not, when he climbs into bed after a long night of being That Idiot, your eyes flutter open, and you murmur a soft "Matthew" before snuggling into him.

Foggy and Karen make fun of you for using his full name more often than Matt, which is undeniably faster and punchier. Every once in a while, you'll pull Franklin out to make Foggy cringe and accuse you of sounding like his mother. Their teasing does nothing to stop you from calling him Matthew. It's the name in your phone, the name you punch in braille in his birthday cards, the name you use to introduce him to others, everything. 

It also helps to conceal the specifics of your relationship from other lawyers who may get nosy and try to use your relationship against you in a court of law. What girlfriend wouldn't call her boyfriend by a nickname? The kind of girlfriend who went through seven years of school and refuses to have her JD called into question just because she went into practice with her boyfriend and best friends. 

The good thing is he doesn't seem to mind you calling him Matthew. It's very rare that the name doesn't grate on his ears, but when it falls from your lips, it's warm and welcome like the first sunny day after a harsh New York winter. The question, however, comes on a chilly October evening while sitting with socked feet on the couch and working through closing statements. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard many pieces of information throughout the past few weeks. Many of them circumstantial," you read to him as you scribble the notes on a yellow legal pad. His hand is resting on your thigh, tracing patterns into your soft leggings, and cocks his head in your direction to show you he's listening. "However, you have also heard from my client-"

"Our client." Matt interrupts, and you look up at him. His tinted glasses are resting on the coffee table amid scattered case notes and copies of evidence, and his brown eyes are cast vaguely in your direction. When you first started dating, he told you people were uncomfortable with his bouncing, unfocusing eyes, and that's why he hadn't taken off his glasses in front of you. Since then, it's been a steady journey of reassuring him how much you love him, love all of him. The fact that all these years later, he's sitting without shame and without his glasses is enough to make your heart soar. 

"Is O'Reilly also the jury's client?" 

"No, but there are multiple defense attorneys on this case."

"Okay, so what if I gesture to you when I say it?" You ask, and the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up.

"'M sure that'll look very professional, sweetheart." He says, amusement in his tone, and you roll your eyes as you look back down at the paper. 

"I'm just gonna say 'my client.'" 

"Fine, but I'm telling Foggy."

"Oh, c'mon, we both know you've claimed clients and cases as your own. It's not a big deal."

"I have not!" 

"I will pull court transcripts right now."

"Maybe I should be the one to give closing statements." He teases and tries to reach for your papers. You rip them out of his reach and drop them on the floor when he tickles your sides. You laugh and try to fight against his strong hands, but he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tickles you with the other. 

"Okay, okay, that's enough." You beg between breathless giggles, and his merciless attack on your stomach stops as fast as it started. The apartment falls silent as he lays half on top of you with your legs bracketing his sides. His hair is soft and a little too long, flopping over his forehead and hiding a yellowing bruise, and his full lips are pulled into a perfect smile that you can't help but kiss. He hums against your lips and releases your wrists, letting your hands graze his waist, narrowly avoiding sore ribs. You feel a full breath fill his lungs before he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

"We're never gonna finish closing statements like this." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and you shrug.

"Prosecution barely has a case. We'll be fine," you say as you scratch his back. "Besides, I always make closing statements my bitch."

"Can't argue with that." He laughs, and you hum in agreement. It's getting late. The sights and sounds of the city have dimmed just enough to tell you that people have made it home from their work days, settling into dinner and bedtime routines with their families. A certain red suit hidden in the closet pricks at the forefront of your mind, and you take a deep breath. 

You knew what you signed up for when you met Matt in your legal history class during your second year at Columbia. You'd had several long-winded conversations with him about defending the working man, upholding the law, and the importance of order in a chaotic world. You knew dating him also meant sharing him with his job, no matter what it was. Still, you never expected his part-time job to be beating up criminals in dark alleys after you went to bed. 

"Wanna order Thai from that place down the block and keep working, or do you need to go?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"'M good."

"You sure?" 

"I like working with you." He says sincerely, and a ball of light shines in your chest. You have to fight the smile threatening the corner of your mouth, and you know he can feel it. 

"Are you just saying that cause you want me to change my wording?" You ask, and he laughs. He ducks his head to kiss your jaw before straightening back up, not letting himself get too distracted by the taste of your skin.

"No, I'm saying that because I love hearing you make closing statements your bitch."

"Good answer, Matthew." You tap his side, and he kisses you again before sitting back to let you get up and retrieve your phone from the counter. You type in the restaurant's name, your mouth watering at the thought of Pad Thai, and walk over to the back of the couch. Matt leans into you the second you're close enough, and even though you don't have super senses like him, you know he's thinking hard about something.

"You know you may be the only person in the world who calls me Matthew on a regular basis?" He asks out of the blue, and you look up from your phone. His hand finds its way to your waist and tugs you closer until your hips are flush against the couch. You indulge in his sudden neediness by running your free hand through his hair.

"What'd your dad call you?" You ask quietly. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he tilts his head at you.

"Matty."

"Matty," you try to nickname on your tongue and smile. "Gotta give it to Battlin' Jack, that's a pretty good one."

"I'm sure he'd agree with you." He says, the gentle ache of grief settling over the space. You lean down and kiss his head in reverence, like you're thanking him for sharing the memory with you. The feeling dissolves once you get back into closing statements and arguing about wording over steaming piles of food, but the name sticks in your brain. His contact name in your phone goes from Matthew to Matty. You let yourself call him Matty a handful of times to test it out, and somehow, the transition between names doesn't faze either of you. It feels good, intimate almost. Something just for the two of you. 

Hell's Kitchen can have Daredevil all they want as long as Matty is the one coming home to you. 

[ddejavvu]

m.list - matt murdock

blurbs:

you interrupt matt's patrol

matt's tired after patrol

you like matt's chest hair

professor!matt

showering with matt

matt + "where did your clothes go?"

prince!matt

kidnapper!matt

matt + edging

matt + enemies to lovers

stalker!matt | 2

matt comforting you after a nightmare

you're insecure during sex

matt notices your harmful habits

matt cuddles you on your period

mafia!matt

matt learns to braid

patching matt up after patrol

priest!matt

roommate!matt

matt + rivals to lovers

matt makes a better second impression

your dog likes matt's seeing eye dog

[chvoswxtch]

like a prayer

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: you want matt for dessert.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: I haven't written for our favorite dumbass in awhile, and after finishing another rewatch of dd, he was heavy on the brain (pun intended). this song came on the other day and I immediately thought of matty, so here we are.

word count: 1k

i’m down on my knees / i can take you there

Matt hadn’t even had a chance to shut the front door to his apartment behind himself before you were pushing him up against the wall, claiming his mouth in a deeply sensual kiss, blindly fumbling with the buckle of his belt. His cane slipped from his right hand, falling to the floor with a loud clatter that echoed in his silent apartment, and the dessert you’d gotten to go was also long forgotten, haphazardly tossed onto the side table in the entryway so Matt’s hands could find their home on your waist instead.

Before Matt’s brain could even catch up to what was happening, you’d pushed his pants and briefs halfway down his muscular thighs and sank down to your knees below him. The second the warmth of your mouth enveloped the sensitive head of his cock, Matt’s jaw went slack, and his head fell back against the wall behind him with a soft thud.

Instantly, every single one of his senses was completely overwhelmed. Your soft hands grasped onto his thighs and he shivered feeling a chilled raindrop that had been lingering on your knuckle slip down onto his heated skin. The bold scent of espresso in the tiramisu that had been abandoned on the side table was overpowered by the fragrance of arousal seeping through the thin cotton material of your panties. That combined with the aroma of your warm spicy perfume intermingled with remnants of fresh rain, and the natural scent of your skin that was just uniquely you, was knocking Matt out of equilibrium.

Matt’s fingers slipped into your roots, tangling into your tresses to give them a gentle tug while a soft grunt tore from his throat. Your tongue felt like velvet gliding along the underside of his cock, flicking over a pulsating vein, swirling around the tip in a slow and seductive manner. Matt was a giver, but God, so were you. The way you took your time and savored the taste of him and the feeling of his heavy cock against your eager tongue was torturous in the most tantalizing way. Your mouth was just as warm and wet as your cunt, and sometimes Matt struggled to decide which one he preferred being inside of.

He couldn’t stop himself from tenuously shifting his hips forward, slipping a few more inches of himself past your welcoming lips. The way you moaned around him had him shuddering, and he whimpered at the way the vibrations of your own pleasure traveled throughout his entire nervous system, causing his toes to curl in his shoes. He gripped harder at your roots, earning another erotic moan from deep within your chest, and even though Catholic guilt was practically embedded in his DNA, the raw hedonistic desire he felt was far more powerful, and you didn’t seem to mind that he was taking over to subtly fuck your mouth. 

God, your mouth felt like pure heaven. Matt knew he didn’t deserve to be let through the pearly gates of your soft lips. He was a sinner, and he didn’t deserve to be blessed and absolved by the saliva coating his cock and dribbling down your chin. Only an angel as sweet as you would welcome the Devil somewhere he had been banished from. Matt’s moans were growing in volume the closer he got to gratification. He was being selfish, God he was being so fucking selfish right now, taking complete advantage of your selflessness, but your pussy was practically dripping onto the floorboards beneath you, and he could taste just how much you enjoyed having his cock in your mouth on his own tongue. 

You wanted this. You wanted him. And Matt couldn’t deny you if he tried. If you wanted the moon and Saturn, and every single star in the sky, he’d find a way to get them for you. 

Matt’s mind was blank. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own labored breathing and racing heartbeat, your soft moans of raw enjoyment, and the way the material of your soaked panties rubbed along your wet folds when you shuffled closer on your knees. Feeling his tip reach the back of your throat and your nose flush against his pubic bone, he began to recite a prayer of your name, loud enough for the entire building to hear. The muscles in his lower abdomen tightened and contracted, and if the wall behind him hadn’t been supporting the burden of his body weight, he would’ve collapsed and joined you on his own knees right then.

His hips stuttered as wave after wave of his gratitude coated the back of your throat, which you were all too eager to welcome, swallowing every drop of his generous offering. Matt let go of your hair, opting to hold the back of your head gently instead, using you as an anchor to tether himself to avoid getting lost in sensory overload. He let out a desperate whimper when your warm mouth escaped him, exposing his softened cock to the drastic change in temperature in his apartment that had goosebumps spreading along his bare flesh. He was panting heavily, like he’d been trapped under a current and had finally breached the surface in search of oxygen.

With his senses so overwhelmed, he didn’t notice that you’d risen from your knees, and his body jolted in surprise when he felt your soft hands caressing his scruffy cheeks. He immediately encircled his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face into your neck to inhale your scent deeply. He needed to ground himself. He needed you. A soft noise of appreciation sounded in the back of his throat when your fingers slipped into his hair, your nails faintly scratching at his scalp in a way that had him faintly moaning into the juncture of your neck where your throat met your collarbone. Your breath was warm against the shell of his ear, and despite how heated his skin was at the moment, your sultry whisper sent a shiver down his spine.

“Ready for dessert now, baby?”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejloveb0t @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts @starsm00n @mentallyunstablebish @spiritofthewriter @merleisapartygod @powellssaturn @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek

[hellsburners]

Matt whimpering while giving him a hand job would make me the happiest women on this planet 😵‍💫

He loved sweatpants. Those grey cotton sweatpants that he used as workout clothes and pajamas. He would wear them so much that they were going thin in places and some small holes would form on the hems. 

He particularly loved walking around with those damn sweatpants alone. The grey-gartered hems hung low on his hip the hair near his crotch would peek through. 

He loved that they were soft on his skin, soft enough that it wouldn’t overwhelm him. That’s why when he’s at home he takes the comfort to the next level by not wearing underwear at all.

So one fateful day of the two of you on the couch, you straddled him to give him a kiss when you felt his cock harden beneath you. His eyes widened, his body tense like you struck a nerve. 

"Shit—” You chuckled. Your fingertips trace the sharp edges of his muscular form. A lone finger found its way to his hard nipples. He groaned from the touch, his mouth agape. You take it as a sign to pepper his neck with soft kisses. “Need help with this?” you said, rubbing your ass on the hard tip. 

“Please sweetheart—” he pleaded. You untied his sweatpants, pulling them to his lower thigh so as to gain access to his hard cock. It was aching and red, a bead of wetness forming on the tip. The pad of your fingers swirling around the sensitive head made him groan, his hips shuddering from the contact. 

You looked down at his cock, letting a string of spit drip on his cock. Your hands form a cylindrical grip on the hardness, stroking and teasing the tip to elicit moans. Matt told you he was never a vocal man in bed, but with you, he was the loudest. 

You started to move your hips on his lap, moving them at the same pace as your hands around his cock. A wet hand teases his nipple, lightly pinching and flicking it. You expected him to groan or grunt but he whimpered. A whimper came out of his pink lips.

“Your hands are so soft,” he coos. “Feels too good—” One hand cupped his balls, the other stroking closer to the tip where it was more sensitive. You rubbed your wet palm in circular motions on the head. Matt felt like his body would start to shake, his senses blocked out at this point, and all he could focus on was your hands on his dick. 

His hands were tight on the sofa, gripping tightly it almost tore the fabric. He wanted to bend you over and spank you, take you for his own pleasure, but he didn’t want this to end, he needed to cum from your hands alone. 

 You added more spit to your hands, your strokes becoming more sloppy from the wetness. His cock leaks precum on your hands, only adding more to the sensation on his cock. Matt bit his lips, trying to stifle his desperate whimpers. “Let them out, Matt. Let it all out for me please.”

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he grunts. “Can’t keep it any longer.” He started to thrust on your hand, his hips going fast into your grip. The couch creaks from his movements, you take it up a notch by stroking even faster and gripping harder. Matt was whimpering so much, his chest heaving, his eyes rolling far back into his skull.  His body started to convulse, cum spewing to his chest, some reaching to you. You taste the cum on the corner of your lips, warm wetness all over your neck. He was a panting mess beneath you, his head fell back on the couch all spent up. You lick the cum off your lips and his chest, leaving kisses all over his overstimulated body. “Good morning Mr. Murdock,” you smiled. He let out an exasperated laugh.

inspo gif found here

(also kiinda busy week for me tried squeezing this in between my breaks i didnt even realize it would be this long lol full fics coming next week!)

[frankcastlescumslut]

I literally want to send every single one from that list but I'll just send a few.

The holding hands in a stressful situation

Forehead kisses

Falling asleep on their lap

Being carried to bed

I'm weakkkkk

OKAY I HAVE TO WRITE FOR MATT AND FRANK BC DUH. but send me as many as you want so I have a reason to escape to my mind palace 🙈

FOR MATTHEW MURDOCK.

the sound of rain tapping against the large windows fills the vacant apartment. it’s late, per usual- somewhere between midnight and 2am- and you’re perched against the leather couch waiting for Matt to get home. you hate the rain and thunder, so you can’t imagine how HE is handling it with his overworked senses.

your head falls against the palm of your hand and you gently nod into the feel, but your head snaps quickly as you fight sleep. this continues for far too long until you eventually give in, the comfort of the couch easing you into a light sleep.

the feel of lips pressing into your forehead startles you awake, “hey! hey sweetheart, it’s just me!”, and you relax as you take in the form of your boyfriend, his hand brushing your face gently. “c’mon,” he holds a hand out for you to take to ease you to the bedroom.

“matty,” you pull him into you, and he lands against the cushion with a laugh. “missed you… wanna talk to you” your head falls against his shoulder. “you’re tired, sweetheart. i’ll stay in tomorrow, let’s just get some sleep, hm?” his arm wraps around you to draw you closer but your head lands in his lap.

“‘m awake, ‘m awake. tell me about your day” you manage to convince him, and he rattles off a list of things that caught his attention today. the last thing you hear is some comment about how the daredevil suit becomes a sauna when it rains.

he notices the way your breathing became deeper and more rhythmic which had spurred him on the tangent of recounting his day. he thought you were lying the time you told him his voice was soothing and could put you to sleep, but he soon found out you really did mean it.

he gently untangled himself from your body before carefully lifting your sleeping form. you stirred momentarily, nuzzling into Matt’s chest with a hum, as he carried you to the bedroom.

the silk sheets welcomed your body, and you signed into the soft mattress. he stood there for a moment and admired you to be best of his abilities. your rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat were soothing to him, but the sound of your fingers mindlessly gripping for something pulled him from his trance.

he quickly found a pair of sweatpants and carefully shuffled into the bed. even in sleep you were able to seek out his familiar frame and nestled into the crook of his neck. he gladly wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss to your forehead, your heartbeat easily lolling him to sleep.

FOR FRANK CASTLE

your grunts and moans fill the small apartment as you attempt to adjust your body to the couch. every part of you aches, bruises litter your body from a mission gone wrong, and you can hardly find a comfortable position.

the ice pack falls to the ground as you attempt to turn to your side and taunts you from the ground. god damnit! for an assassin, you sure weren’t nimble as your body rolled to the floor, knees catching your fall with a thud.

Frank happened to walk through the door at just the wrong? right? time, and his eyes widened at your compromised state. he immediately strides towards you, hands gingerly placed on your back as you heave on all fours.

“c’mon, you’re tellin’ me you lost to a couch?” he tries to lighten the mood as he presses a kiss to your temple, balancing on his knees as he holds his hand out to you. you take his hand in your grip, nails digging into the soft flesh as you attempt to hoist yourself up. Attagirl. Frank grits his teeth at your grip, wondering how much pain you truly were in.

“careful, careful, lemme help” he towers over you as he stands to his full height, his arm carefully bearing most of your weight. “let’s get you to the bed, c’mon” , but you protest quickly. “been in bed all day, Frankie. I need to get up” you wince as you place your full weight on your feet, trying to put on a brave face.

“my ass, c’mon” he chuckles at your feeble attempt but stops as you huff with each step, finally taking in the full extent of your injuries. a flip switches in him; and he feels like an idiot for believing your lies from before, i’m fine, really! go! since when did you need me to cover your ass?

his forearm connects to the back of your knees and youre folding in half as he hoists you into his arm, careful to avoid any major injuries. you try to protest, really, you do, “put me down! i’m fine- ow- this is too much! I’m- ow- not a baby” but you can’t help but sigh in relief as the pressure is taken off of your back.

“you’re my baby,” he says with a wink as he carries you through the threshold of your bedroom. the bed feels too familiar under your weight but you enjoy the way Frank joins you. you try to adjust in a way that relieves the pain, finally finding solace in a rather…. suggestive position.

you start on all fours but lower your chest to meet the mattress, resting your head in the crook of your crossed arms below you. you’d been in this position many times before, usually with Frank behind you, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head.

shut up, you grumble with closed eyes. “i didnt say anything!” he fully laughs now, and you open one eye towards him. “it’s the only way it feels better” you pout in defeat, slowly stretching your neck.

“c’mere, got an idea”, he grabs an unused pillow and places it on his lap, patting it to guide you towards him. “francis…” you mumble before giving in, not willing to admit that this new position was much more comfortable. you sigh into his touch as he caresses your head. “quit lookin’ at me” you manage to quip through lazy lips and closed eyes before resting in the arms lap of your lover.

LOL SORRY I WENT OVERBOARD thank you for the ask <3

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

koala

a/n: hi, sorry, I just wanna melt into that man's lap all day and every day, thank you and goodnight.

warnings: matt murdock x reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, reader being sick (headache, slight fever)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Still hazy from your second nap of the day, you dizzily pitter-pattered closer to the lawyer who was still hard at work even at his own dining table. As you watched his long fingers rapidly brush over the braille, you slowly reached out a hand and touched his arm. Jumping at the slightest opening he offered, you sluggishly slid in over his lap and clung onto his suit like a little koala. 

“You’re home,” your voice vibrated into his shoulder as you buried your throbbing head in it. Judging by the mess sprawled out on the table behind you, the one that was currently jabbing into your back and keeping you pinned in place securely on Matt’s lap, he must have been here quite a while, “why didn’t you wake me?”

His warm arms wrapped around you, “you needed your rest,” and you felt his soft lips press against your tender hairline, “are you feeling a bit better?” he purposely kept his deep voice hushed.

“A little,” you took a moment to assess, “my head feels a little better, but I think I might be getting a fever… so I think you were probably right this morning, staying home today was the right choice…”

“I’m sorry I was right,” his outspread palms gently danced along your spine, “is this my t-shirt?” he asked abruptly as he fingered the soft material you wore. 

“I hope it’s alright,” you straightened up a bit, keeping an eye out for any signs of his expression telling you something different than his honeyed words did, “it was just the only thing that I could find that didn’t make me feel like I was being strangled alive.”

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and cocked his head gently, “you can have my entire closet if you so please.” 

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[atlaese]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 | 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY | Matt is no longer the only vigilante in Hell’s Kitchen. A woman, nicknamed the siren by the press, is often seen roaming the same streets. It seems there might be a rivalry between the two. Or is there? What the outside world doesn’t know is that there is history between the two of them. The devil and the siren are a complicated duo, however, some events might make it even more complicated. Or it might simply make them finally address why they still seek each other's company.

PAIRING | matt murdock x fem!reader

TW | canon violence, friends/rivals to lovers, fluff, every chapter will have individual warnings.

A/N | hi hello!! this mini-series was inspired by me thinking about character A unloading a shit ton of weapons while character B patiently waits for them to finish & is exasperated by how long it takes. for this specific series I'll open a taglist, so feel free to comment or send me an ask :). hope you'll enjoy! i appreciate any feedback :).

p.s. i also have a library blog if you'd rather receive updates that way (@aeristhotle)

MATT MURDOCK MASTERLIST

chapter one | TBA

chapter two | TBA

chapter three | TBA