#daredevil x f!reader

[angst-cravings]

candy necklace

summary: you find a candy necklace and decide to wear it for matt. groping ensues.

pairing: matt murdock x f!reader

words: 2.2k

an: smut (18+, mdni), pwp, fem & afab but no use of pronouns, and no use of y/n, also my first smut ever

based on a tik tok post that has since been deleted </3

cw: sex, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, p in v penetration

Matt had been having a hard time at his job lately. Both jobs. He had papers and folders in the living room messily strewn around him, and dark bruises were peeking out from his lazily rolled-up sleeves. The stress was oozing off of him and permeating the air. It was almost thick with tension, and he felt it suffocating him. His face falls into his hands, and he sighs deeply.

You were going out with your friends tonight, and half of him was disappointed, but half was relieved. He hated it when you saw him like this. When you were gone, you could be carefree and enjoy yourself. And not worry about him. 

He heard you rustling in the other room to get dressed. The softest hint of perfume hit him, along with… sugar? His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, distracting him from the weight on his back. 

You pad barefoot into the living room, adjusting your necklace so the tie is on the back of your neck. 

“Do you want to feel my dress to get an idea of how I look? It’s black.” You walk towards him, smiling. Matt directs his head towards you and returns the smile. You can see the bags under his eyes, and his brown eyes almost light up as he acknowledges you. His tie is fully untied, draping around his neck and down his chest. His disheveled state is admittedly attractive but makes your heart break. You hate seeing him like this, not because he can’t handle it, but because he beats himself up too much while he does. All you wanted was for him to relax and take the night for himself, but you knew after the week’s stress, “taking the night for himself” would mean fighting the criminals of Hell’s Kitchen, not relaxing in bed as you’d want him to. But you had a plan. 

Matt stands, places his hands on your shoulders, and starts roaming. He begins at the straps, his coarse fingertips floating across your bare shoulders, causing goosebumps to litter your exposed skin. His hands move down the body of your dress, and he feels your every dip and curve. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling heat rush between your legs. You watch as Matt runs his tongue across his lips, and you know he can taste it in the air. As his hands reach the hem of your dress, he grabs your ass and smirks.

“Short.” 

You hesitantly nod. “I, uh, I’m wearing a necklace too. You should feel it.” You look directly into his eyes and hold your breath. His eyes have darkened, turning from soft and comforting to dark and hungry. He cocks his head and pulls you even closer before raising his hand to your throat. His rough fingers gently trace around your neck, the sensation causing you to sharply inhale, and you swallow under his fingertips. You study his face to try and discern his reaction. 

“And what’s this?” He knows. You recognize this face. He’s playing with you. 

“It’s… candy.”

“You were going to wear this out?” His eyebrow raises, his lips betraying the slightest hint of amusement. His voice is mostly humorous, but you hear the overt undertones of posessiveness.

You choose not to answer his question. “Do you… want to taste it?”

His hand falls, and your neck immediately feels cold from the absence. He grabs your chin and lifts it to expose your neck, giving him access to your skin and necklace. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation, and you feel his warm breath hover across you. The pulse between your legs begins to grow, and you place a hand on his chest to ground you. 

His nose hits your neck first, almost tickling you, and he wraps his mouth around a candy ring next. It tastes sweet and slightly salty from your skin, and he snakes a hand down to the small of your back for stability. Your heart is pounding, and you shiver from every brush of lips against neck. An almost silent moan parts from your lips, and Matt pulls away.

“It’s sweet.” He smirks and goes in for another, this time latching onto your neck and sucking on both you and the necklace. You gasp, and you feel your knees turn to jelly.

Matt gently pulls you onto the couch, his grip firm on your waist, and you fall into him. You reposition yourself to straddle his waist, and you feel your dress ride up your thighs as his strong hands plant themselves onto your hips. He moves his mouth from your necklace and starts kissing your neck, gently sucking and nibbling on your sensitive points. You moan as he hits the spot on your neck that he knows all too well, and you can’t help yourself. You start grinding your hips down against him, only a few layers between the two of you.

Matt groans, an erection already in his boxer briefs from the taste of you in the air. His hips buck up against you, and his hands begin to roam up and down your dress. One of his hands hovers over the hem of your dress.

“May I?” His voice is breathy and quiet, but you hear the need punctuating his words. Work has been his main priority for the past few weeks, so he’s been pent up for a while. And so have you.

“Please.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest, and you take a second to admire how it rises and falls as his breathing starts to get heavier. He pushes the skirt of your dress up to fully expose everything from your waist down.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet for me already.” He rubs a finger over the ever-growing damp spot on your underwear, and you can see him lick his lips and taste the air. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and you watch as the pupils of his eyes completely blow out. His chest rises as he inhales, breathing your scent in, and he silently curses under his breath as his erection further strains against his pants. 

You whine as he starts to rub your clit through your panties, and you are compelled by your body to grind against his hand. He uses his other hand on your waist to guide you through, helping you rock your hips back and forth against him. 

“Please, Matt,” you whine.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” His voice is playful, but his words are stern. 

“I need you, please, fuck me—I need more.” 

His hand instantly moves away, and he flips you onto the couch. The cool leather almost stings against the burning heat of your skin. 

“You know, your necklace tasted good, but I know something I would much rather taste all night.” He grins as he moves down your body and slots his head between your thighs. Your hands immediately twist in his hair. The reaction is almost ritualistic after experiencing this bliss so many times before. Matt pulls the waistband of your panties and tugs them down your legs, letting you kick them off from your ankles and fall to the floor. You hungrily watch as he starts to go down on you, as he leaves long strokes with the flat of his tongue. Your head slumps against the arm of the couch as your eyes reflexively slam shut from the pleasure. Matt snakes his tongue inside of you, fully tasting you and your arousal. His nose clumsily nudges against your clit, and he lets out a soft groan as the taste takes over his senses. 

“Fuck, Matt…” You let out breathy moans, and your fingers tug at his hair, pulling him closer. He focuses his tongue on your clit again, and he inserts two fingers into you. His fingers are calloused and thick, and you immediately clench around them, eliciting a groan from Matt. His fingers crook and quickly hit the spot inside of you, and your hips buck into his mouth as you moan. He continues voraciously, and all thoughts vanish from your mind. The combination of his fingers, his tongue, and the gentle rumble of his moaning begins to build an orgasm deep inside you. 

Matt notices and increases his efforts, fucking you as moans spill out of your reddened lips. You tighten your thighs around his head, and you hear a quiet groan from Matt. If it had been earlier in the night, you might have been concerned you’d hurt or suffocate him, but you can’t think straight.

“Fuck, Matt, I’m close, I’m so close, I–” Your words almost trip on themselves as you say them as the buildup releases, and your muscles start to pulsate around his fingers as you moan his name. He guides you through your orgasm, licking up all of your juices and savoring the taste on his tongue. You gently pull him away and feel arousal building again as you watch him wrap his mouth around his fingers to savor the taste. 

“God, you’re so fucking good for me, sweetheart. Taste and feel so damn good,” Matt sighs, rising from his position on his knees. 

You move to get on your knees in reciprocity, but he stops you.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I fucking need you right now.” His voice comes out ragged and hungry. Your taste is heady, and he seems almost drunk on you. He swoops you up into his arms as if you were weightless and carries you to the bed. He’s impatient but ever lovingly gentle, and he peppers kisses along your body as he nearly rips your dress off. He lingers at your throat as he bites another piece of candy off, and you giggle, having almost forgotten the thing that sparked this. You admire Matt as he strips down the rest of his clothing, ogling his gorgeous, toned body. 

Matt lets out a sharp hiss as his cock is finally released from its restraints, a bead of precum forming at the tip. You swallow at the sight of it, never having gotten over how big he is.

“Fuck, Matt, baby, I need you,” You whine, already soaking wet again. 

“Shh… I know, sweetheart, just one moment.” He climbs onto the bed, his arms framing your face and his legs slot between yours. He slowly slides into you, and you immediately let out a moan. 

“Sweetheart, you’re so tight for me,” Matt’s voice is laced with underlying tension as he restrains himself from going too fast, “You just feel so fucking good.”

After a few seconds of adjusting, you gently tap his arm to signal that you’re ready for more, and he fully buries himself into you. 

“God, Matt, I need you, please,” You start to shift yourself needily to get any friction. You ache from the overstimulation of your recent release, but the sting of pain mixes with pleasure in a way that just begs you for more. 

He immediately responds by moving into a familiar rhythm, angling his hips to hit every spot inside of you, eliciting moans from both of you. “God, you feel so good, sweetheart,” Matt half-whispers half-moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You whine into his ear as a response. You wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into his back, and he relishes the grounding feeling with your name falling from his lips. You were excited to see the marks on his back later, a reminder of tonight and your claim on him. 

One of his hands reaches down, and you feel his thumb start to rub your clit. Your body immediately reacts, your muscles tightening around him in a vice-like grip.

“Please, Matt, fuck, your dick feels so good,” you moan, “more, please.”

He responds by fucking you harder, faster. You feel the coil in you become tighter, spurred by your earlier climax, and your moans become almost pornographic as you experience what you imagine to be the most pleasure you could ever feel.

“Matt, I’m close, please, can I,” you beg, voice filled with impatience.

Matt’s voice is husky and exhilarating. “God, please, sweetheart, cum for me.” You feel his hips start to stutter, and your muscles begin to clench and flutter around him. You moan so loudly the neighbors could probably hear, and you don’t think you mind. This isn’t the first time your ecstasy has disturbed their evenings, and there hasn’t been a complaint yet.

After a few more thrusts, Matt pulls out of you, panting. As you come down from the high, you’re suddenly keenly aware of the sticky sensation on your neck from the mix of candy and saliva and the gush of his cum running out of you.

“So, uh, do I need to let you go out with your friends now?” Matt questions, a tinge of disappointment lacing his words. You giggled.

“Well, honestly, I changed my mind a little bit ago. Maybe we should just hang out for the rest of the night.” 

You had decided far before you had gotten ready that night. You figured he needed a break, and this was a good excuse for him to let loose.

A grin quickly spanned across his face, and he gave you a sweet and gentle peck before he ran to the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up. 

~

“So... can I ask what was up with the necklace?” You feel his voice rumble deep in him, mixed with his heartbeat, as your head rests against his chest.

“Oh,” you laugh, “that was just for you. I saw it in a shop and thought you might have some fun with it.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Happy Halloween, everyone! Yes, it’s still technically Halloween, so I’m getting this in while I still can. I kept meaning to write this all month, but I never actually remembered to--one Hocus Pocus viewing later, and voila! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Getting in the holiday spirit, you, Matt, Karen, and Foggy to a themed Halloween costume, enjoying drinks at Josie’s after work when you make a passing comment. Come the end of the night, an opportunity arises that lets both you and Matt explore your words from the bar.

Warnings: Fluff (friendly banter, Matt and Reader are close, Reader knows about Matt’s hobby), swearing, smut (oral- f!receiving (cuz Matt can’t help himself), cowgirl, praise, p in v unprotected sex, more smut insinuated), bad plot because I wanted to write this so don’t @ me

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 2,363

“Well, if I do say so myself, we look good,” you sigh as you lean against the bar counter. “I think we need to do an office theme group costume every year.”

“I don’t know about that,” Matt he says, clearing his throat before sipping his beer.

“No, I agree with (Y/N)—we look damn good,” Foggy seconds, tipping his hat. 

“Agreed,” Karen sighs. “Best law firm in the west.”

“I just don’t remember agreeing to the Western theme,” Matt adds with a shrug. 

“Well, it is what it is. And, think of it this way: we’ll be an economical option for any new faces that wander into the bar or we meet in passing tonight.”

“I’m not following,” he trails. 

“Well, you know what they say, Murdock. Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you tease, lightly bumping your hip into his. Matt clears his throat as he shakes his head in amusement and annoyance while Foggy and Karen double over in laughter. 

“It wasn’t that funny,” you say with furrowed brows. “How much have you two had to drink?”

“We might have started at the office while you guys wrapped up at court,” Karen admits, but you can tell there’s something off in her response. 

“Well, don’t go too nuts, yeah? My liver hurts at the idea of how much you two might drink tonight.”

“And I don’t think (Y/N) or I want to have to maneuver the streets of New York on Halloween to make sure you get home safely,” Matt adds.

“Mm!” you hum, cutting your drink short to agree with Matt. “And don’t even try to counter with cabs and ride-shares—never on Halloween.”

“Fine,” Foggy concedes. “We won’t get too sloshed, I promise. Scouts honor.”

“You weren’t a Scout,” Matt interjects.

“Just take the sentiment, hm?”

Matt and you turn to one another, speaking in your longtime friend telepathic bond before you turn back to your friends and tip your hats in unison.

“Sounds good, partner,” Matt says with a twang. 

“Yeehaw,” you second. 

“You should really wear flannels more, Matty,” you tell him as you walk arm and arm down the sidewalk, Foggy and Karen having broken off to walk towards their apartments.

“Thanks,” Matt nods. “I’ll make sure to add some to my shopping list.”

“Come on, it feels soft, and it must be keeping you nice and warm.”

“It is. You good? Staying warm?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Anyways, I have a human radiator walking next to me. It’s just a bummer that your apartment is before mine.”

“I’m not letting you walk home alone. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“And I’ve told you I don’t like you walking home by yourself, either. You might have all your abilities to back you, God forbid anything ever happens, but to the rest of the world, you’re just a blind man walking the street. I worry about you, Matty.”

“Well, how about you just stay over tonight?” he suggests. “We don’t have to worry about each other. I’ll even throw my Columbia sweatshirt in the dryer since you’re chilly.”

“What, no cuddles?” you joke.

You don’t need to have Matt’s super hearing to hear how his breath hitches at my words. 

“I mean, if it’s a dealbreaker, I guess I can cave on it,” he chuckles.

You move to take off your hat, holding it in your hand as you rest your head in his shoulder. “Okay, Matt. You’ve got yourself a deal, lawyer-man.”

Matt laughs lightly a little more, holding your close as you round the corner to his building. When you make it up the stairs and into his loft, you hum in delight as you feel the warmth of Matt’s apartment wrap around you like hug, the lights from the billboard bathing the entire place in glorious reds and blues.

“Let me go get some clothes and throw them in the dryer for my chilly best friend,” Matt smiles, putting his hand lightly in the small of your back as he moves behinds you. The movement brings goosebumps to your skin and makes your cheeks burn hot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “Still a bit cold, I guess.”

“Then it’s good I’m going to warm you up, then.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose and bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep the tingliness you feel at bay. While he does that, you sit on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself as you wait for him. 

“Those should be good in fifteen minutes,” he says with a smile, glasses off, sitting next to you. “You’ll have to suffer just a bit longer, I’m afraid.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you sigh dramatically, resting your head in your hand, your elbow propped on the back of the couch. 

“You have fun tonight?”

“I always have fun with you guys. The question is if you had fun.”

“I did,” he smiles, copying your body language. “But I think you want to tell me something, though.” 

“That’s not fair you can tell things like that,” you grumble. 

“But spot on,” he smirks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry if what I said at the bar crossed a line.”

“What did you say?”

“The horse and cowboy thing.”

“It’s okay. You saw the opportunity and took it. It’s a good joke. And it’s okay to be a little horny on Halloween.”

You swallow as you feel your heart begin to tick up. “Are you saying you’re horny tonight, Matty? Is that why you invited me back?”

“No.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.” His forehead rests on yours. “Please tell me you’ve thought about it.”

Leaning forward, you close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours, soft, warm, and welcoming. His hand cradles your cheek, slowly moving to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. You sigh into his lips, focusing on the way his scruff scratches against your skin and how his mouth moves against yours. While you get yourself lost in the fluidity of his lips, you’re unaware of how his body reacts to you. When his hands move to grip your waist and bring you on his lap, you gasp, your lips opening into an “O” as a bright smile spreads along his face. You bring your hands to hold his face, pulling him back in for a deep kiss, your bodies rocking back and forth on the couch. Matt’s finger scrunch up the blend of your shirt in an effort to hold you impossibly close to him, pulling his lips from yours to press large, damp, needy kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. You whimper as his mouth secures around your pulse point, feeding on the flesh like a hungry animal. 

With a grunt, Matt lifts your bodies from the couch and takes purposeful steps toward the bedroom, his mouth never once faltering from its work on your flesh. Matt leans over on the mattress, locking your body between him and the bed as he moves his fervent kisses from your neck back to your lips, but not before retracing the path he initially took. When Matt’s mouth reaches yours once more, he slips his tongue in, exploring how you taste, smushing your noses together. Your legs latch around his waist, pressing the strained tent in his jeans against your core that you feel growing wetter with each passing embrace.

You clear your head long enough to pull your lips from Matt’s, placing quick and sloppy kisses all over his face before moving to tug at his earlobe. The moan that escapes Matt’s lips is sinful, dipping his head just so to kiss your chest.

“Matty,” you whisper in his ear. “Matty, please. Let me takes these off of you.”

“Yeah angel?” he hums, dragging his nose up your throat.

Removing his body from yours, Matt doesn’t waste any time, ripping open his shirt and quickly discarding the material to his left on the mattress. While he works to get his jeans off, you mimic his movements and take your clothes off as fast as you can when you get an idea. Your panties come off with your skinny jeans and you quickly remove your bra, but not before Matt lowers his lips to your bare stomach and right to your pussy, waisting no time. Judging by the pace that he laps and sucks at the skin, he’s either incredibly horny, or he has thought about doing exactly this for a long time—the manner that his hands palm and squeeze the meat of your spread thighs make you inclined to believe it’s the second one.

Abruptly, he pulls his lips from your core and brings them back to my lips for a deep kiss and letting you taste how you mix with him. The embrace is sloppy and raunchy, making your head spin with delight. Feeling how his rock hard cock presses against you, you take advantage of the situation, rolling you around on the bed and moving down the length of his body.

“Not so fast, Matthew,” you chuckle, gently taking hold of the base of his cock, the heavy weight of his length nothing short of glorious in your hand. Tentatively, you lick the tip of his pink head, tasting the saltiness of his precum and spreading it around before slowly take him in your mouth. Matt lets out a throaty moan, and you hear his head drop onto the pillow. What you can’t fit into my mouth you supplement with your hand, moving up and down him at a steady pace, using your tongue to feel the veins and minute contours of the muscle. The more excited you get, the sloppier your movements become, and the faster the whimpers and whines fall from his lips.

“Angel,” he pants. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me. Good girl, good gi—fuck. Just like that.”

With a delighted hum, you move back up from his length and release him with a loud pop.

“If you liked that, Matty, I think you’ll like what comes next,” you smile. 

Giving him a few more pumps, you move to straddle this hips, hovering just slightly. Sliding on his discarded flannel, you tie it tight just under your breasts and lean forward to take the cowboy hat from his head that has managed to stay on this entire time, putting it on your own. A dopey, lopsided grin spreads across his face.

“And what do you have planned, exactly?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“What I said earlier tonight,” you tell him, positioning his cock right at your entrance. “I’m going to ride a cowboy.”

With that, you sink down on his length and feel a glorious stretch. Your eyes close in delight, and you can only assume Matt’s expression matches yours from the way he interlaces his fingers with yours. Taking a moment to adjust to his length and girth, you slowly begin to move up and down him. Your moans and pants slowly start to fill the room, the sound making your heart race and your skin grow warm.

“So big, Matt,” you moan as you switch from up and down motions to rocking your hips back and forth. The change makes Matt cry out in pleasure, pulling his fingers from how they’re clasped to hold tightly to the flesh of your hips, guiding you to keep a steady rhythm. One of your hands moves to rest on his abdomen while the other holds onto the hat to keep it on.

“S-shit,” he curses. “You feel so good for me, riding me like that, sweetheart. So wet, baby.”

“Matty,” you moan as you move my hips faster.

“I know, I know. Give me those curves, baby.”

Leaning forward, you move down and kiss him, allowing him to continue guiding your hips.

“Fill me so good,” you mutter into his skin. “Hit the spot.”

“Yeah? You like how I feel in you? Huh? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The pace and angle starts to become too much, your breathing becoming more erratic and your cries more desperate.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” Matt grunts in your ear, placing kisses wherever he can on your face. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes,” you pant, focusing only on Matt’s skin and how his heart thunders in his chest. It’s just enough to push you over the edge, and you squeeze his cock, your hands desperately clutching onto his shoulders while his hands maintain your momentum. “Matt!”

“I know, I-I’m clo—ohh, fuck!” Matt moans, his hips slapping hard into you, filling you with his load. “Fuck, angel!” 

As you ride out your highs together, you collapse on his chest, your chests heaving from the exertion.

“Howdy,” he chuckles, pushing the hat back to kiss your forehead.

You giggle before you return the greeting: “Howdy.”

“You’re really good at that, you know.”

“You’re not half bad yourself, Murdock.”

Bringing your lips back to his, you kiss him once more, the sweetness and slow nature of the embrace different than the heated passion from your other exchanges. Matt takes the hat from your head, putting it somewhere to the side as he rolls you over, somehow staying inside of you in the change of position. 

“Still want those clothes from the dryer?” 

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. The sass of this man is incredible.

“I think I might be okay, especially if you let me stay in your arms for the night.”

Matt’s fingers ghost up to the knot of his shirt on your body, letting the cotton blend fabric fall to the side and expose your breasts as he lets his lips hover just over yours, teasing you as the corners of his curl up. “I don’t see that being a problem at all, angel. In fact, I don’t have any intention of letting you go.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop@itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​ @dpaccione

[foli-vora]

seeping into my senses

matt murdock x f!reader

a/n: that fucking gif holy jesus. um this is filthy and completely out of nowhere, i apologise.

word count: just over 1.6k

warnings: swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY, masturbation (both f & m), using saliva as lube, praise kink, cum eating, the utter vision that is Matthew Murdock jerking off

"What do you want?" He breathes into your mouth, chasing the lingering taste of liquor and the fruity bubble-gum you'd stolen from Foggy hanging on your tongue.

"I want to watch you touch yourself," you murmur, teeth nipping sharply at his bottom lip.

He groans at the sting of it, his brows pinching as he feels you back away from his mouth. You linger close though, he can feel the warmth of your breath across his lips and his hands reflexively tighten where they sit on your hips.

"What?" He finally asks, tongue darting out across his lips as he fights to get a hold of his breath.

"You heard me, Murdock. I want to watch you."

His heart is erratic in his chest, beating heavily against his ribcage as your fingers delicately tug his tie loose and undo each button of his shirt.

The muscles of his stomach jump and flex under the your touch as you trace a finger over his skin, winding and curling softly over each shadow of a bruise and fresh scar that mars his torso.

"Would that be okay, baby?" You ask lowly, leaning forward to steal another taste of his lips and smiling when he groans quietly into your mouth.

"I think about it, you know... about how you'd look... it drives me fucking crazy, Matty."

He drops back into the cushions when you press a firm hand against his chest and push, his legs automatically spreading to make room for you to kneel on the floor before him.

You take in the pretty picture he makes on his couch, his shirt now crumpled and haphazardly shoved to the sides to give your eyes access to his skin.

A frown plays along the edges of his expression as he listens to you shift in front of him, ears picking up on the way your skin brushes against itself. Your thighs, he notes after a second more of listening. Your arousal thickens the air, sinking hot and heavy into his senses and his hands flex beside him with the need to reach for you.

"But what about you?"

It's against everything he goes by when it comes to sex. He was a giver, a sharer. Only touching himself and not you feels selfish, wrong.

You laugh softly, reaching for his hand and nuzzling into his palm, kissing his calloused skin as his thumb starts to smooth over your cheek.

"Oh Matty," you coo, "I'll be just fine. Imagine I'm not here..."

"Impossible," he mutters, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed. His tongue sweeps along his lower lip, slow and purposeful, bringing the sweet tang of your arousal into his mouth and it sets fire to his veins.

You watch the deft movement of his fingers as they tug his belt loose and all but tear at his suit pants until they open, granting him the access to slide a hand beneath the fabric and pull his hard cock free.

It's automatic. A weak, borderline pathetic, noise falls from your throat at the sight of him, your stomach twisting and pussy clenching as the solid mass of it fills his hand, and a smug smirk tugs at his lips in response. Ass.

Your eyes flicker away from his face, soon captivated and completely entranced by the way his fingers curl around the thick length of his cock and squeeze, soon moving with a slow, experimental pump that has you squirming restlessly where you kneel on the floor.

He moves, briefly raising his fingers to his lips before they come away and smooth over the head of his length, his fingers painting his saliva over his skin and making it glisten in the light flooding the room from the window.

"You're so beautiful, Matty," you whisper in awe, eyes following his hand as it rewraps around his cock, fingers flexing and squeezing as he starts a slow, steady pace, his hand moving up and down his length with a barely there twist of his grip.

"Coming from you," he breathes, his brows deepening as he tightens his pressure a little further. "Can you do something for me, sweetheart?"

A little whine of affirmation is his answer, and the tug of a smirk returns to his lips.

"I want hear you. Touch yourself... cum with me."

Your heart is wild in his ears. Another wave of your arousal washes over him, filling his nose and seeping into his tongue, and his back arches against the cushions. He follows the shift of your legs, ears focusing on the way your bare skin slides along the hardwood flooring as your thighs part.

The quick drag of your skirt up your thighs follows, your fingers hastily tugging your panties aside until your fingers can swipe through your folds and he shudders at the slick sound of it.

"That's it, pretty girl," he breathes in approval, tongue darting to wet his dry lips. "Make yourself feel good for me."

You whine softly, fingers dipping into the heat of your cunt and rolling your hips against your hand when you push them deeper.

The skin of your palm bumps against your throbbing clit and shoots a flash of pleasure through your core, your walls spasming and clenching around your fingers as they languidly thrust in and out, the catch of your dry skin soon wetting with your flood of arousal.

"Can I have a little taste, sweetheart?"

He's smirking down at you when your eyes flutter open and focus on him, his hand still leisurely stroking his cock. Your pussy clenches around your fingers and you drag them out of your heat, carefully leaning up onto your knees and offering him the wet digits.

His mouth opens and his lips wrap around them, sucking on them softly as his tongue smooths along your skin and collects every bit of your slick from your fingers. His hand tightens around his cock, his hips unconsciously thrusting up into his hand as the taste of your pussy melts into his tongue.

You drag them from his mouth and sit back on your heels, eyes dropping to watch the way his pace increases, the slap of his hand almost desperate now as it works his cock. Your fingers dive for your aching clit, zeroing in on the swollen nerve and your body jolts with the first few tight little circles you rub over it.

He feels your body's reaction in the way air moves around your writhing body, hears it in the way your heart impossibly quickens in your chest, picks up on the light layer of sweat building along the back of your neck as it mixes with the heady scent of your arousal settling around him.

His head lulls back and rests on the back of his couch as his chest heaves from the frenzied movement of his hand, each rough drag of his hand around his cock intensifying the hot pressure building at the base of his spine.

You try and keep each frantic little circle you make over your clit in time with every savage thrust of his hand, unable to tear your eyes away from the fucking vision he makes getting himself off on his couch bathed in the red hue of the bright sign outside his window. 

"You look so fucking good, Matty," you puff softly, your hips rolling against your hand and your cunt clenching as you build the climax building in your core. "Make yourself cum. P-please - I want to watch it, watch you..."

He groans deeply, the muscles in his arm flexing and stiffening as he starts to chase his end. He focuses on you and each sharp inhale that catches in your throat, the obscene sound of your fingers working your clit and your dripping pussy clenching throwing him off the edge.

You watch in rapt attention, fingers still working against your clit as you watch it roll through him. His mouth opens, a broken gasp falling from his parted lips before his hips jolt, his free hand slamming into the couch beside him and clawing at the leather.

Milky white cum spurts from the tip of his cock and streaks ropes across his stomach, and the sinful image snaps the band tightening in your core.

You cum with your own silent cry, the muscles in your legs convulsing as your cunt spasms with the force of your climax. You fight the urge to close your eyes through it, not wanting to miss a single second of him finishing himself off.

He milks it for what its worth, practically forcing his cock to endure a few more softer thrusts through the overstimulation that makes his body jump, and you follow his lead, your toes curling as you fight the urge to pull away.

His hand finally stills, his softening cock still in grasp, and takes a shuddering breath in, tongue darting along his lips as he pants towards the ceiling. You hum softly as your orgasm fades into a pleasant buzz filling your body.

Leaning forward, you brace a hand against his pant clad thigh, feeling his muscles jump under your touch. Your tongue runs over his stomach, collecting the cum resting there and letting the warm salty tang of it sit on your taste buds before swallowing it down.

His hand comes to rest on the back of your head as you work quietly to clean him up, his fingers brushing down your cheek when he feels your head pull back slightly to look up at him. His thumb brushes the corner of your lips where a small drop of his cum lingers and he softly guides it into the wet heat of your mouth.

You suck on it softly before releasing it with a pop, reaching up to cup his jaw tenderly, the rough feel of his stubble comforting against your skin.

"How're you doin' up there, Matty?"

He scoffs quietly, lips curling into a lazy smile. "Just fine, sweetheart."

-

matt murdock tags: @william-butcher​, @dihra-vesa​, @a-reader-and-a-writer​, @katronautt​, @radiowallet​, @januarystears​, @danidrabbles​, @amneris21​, @acourtofsnakes​, @mstgsmy​, @evyiione​, @stardust-galaxies​, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44​, @you-got-me-starry-eyed​, @withasideofmeg​, @mad-girl-without-a-box​, @fangirl-316​, @moonlarking, @xoxabs88xox​, @federleichtefreiheit​, @lavenderluna10​, @mindidjarin​. @stardustingold​, @androah​, @itwasthereaminuteago​, @wildmoonflower​, @naughtynecromancer​, @h-hxgirl​, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul​, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime​, @omlwhatamidoinghere​, @celestinemuse​, @chaoticemz​, @alexxavicry​, @mylifeispainandiloveit​, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads​, @outercrasis​, @lawfulgranola​, @ew-erin​, @fuckoffbard​, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @karlawithacapitalk​, @frasmotic​, @eatommo​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @chaoticevilbakugo​, @detectivecarisi-1​, @raphaelaisabella​,

[itwasthereaminuteago]

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“ with Matt Murdock ??

Little bit of voyeurism snuck in there, hope that's okay, haha!

Fuck, you mutter under your breath, your fingers blindly furrowing through Matt's hair as he buries his head between your thighs.

"ohh-" you softly whimper as the tip of his tongue snakes in a frustrating circle around your clit.

This time you felt him grinning against your pussy before he pulls away for a moment to tease you more.

"oh c'mon sweetheart, I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that."

You glare down at him, knowing he can sense the weight of your stare. "And I'm sure Frank, who may I remind you is asleep next door, would appreciate that?"

The pair of you had let him crash on the couch before he was due to head off across the country later that morning.

Matt chuckles, "he's awake" he tells you, before peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cocking his head as you sigh deeply in response. "and I think he's enjoying the show."

You freeze. "What-"

You're cut off as he dives back in, swiping a firm wide stripe up through your dripping folds and then flicking repeatedly over that bundle of nerves at the apex, sucking on it and making it swell.

You can't help but cry out, clamping your legs around his ears and bucking your hips against his mouth as he draws you rapidly up to your peak again. "oh god, ohh Maaaaatt!"

"Mm that's it baby, let him know how good I make you feel."

He encourages you to use him, his hands kneading against your ass and pulling you even closer, relentlessly chasing more of your desperate sounds in the midst of this sudden ridiculous peacocking competition. But you don't care, because he's right. He makes you feel like you're flying and like you'll explode all at once, and you definitely can't keep quiet about it.

"Yes, oh fuck yes! rightthererightthererightthereohmattohfuuuckkk-"

Matt hums against you as you cum screaming on his mouth, lapping up everything you have to give, letting you shudder and shake until you're completely spent before he's moving over you, pressing another loud moan from your throat as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you.

You whimper and moan at every deep thrust, your fingers tugging at the sheets and his hair, clawing his back, wherever you could reach.

"give me one more sweetie," he groans against your neck, already worked up and close to cumming from the pleasure he gets from eating you out. "I know you can give me another... and make it loud."

He fucks you hard with such a punishing pace and it's all you can do to hold on and take it. The friction of his pelvis grinding against you and the idea that someone, that Frank, was in the next room likely getting off on the two of you was enough to send you crashing over the edge again in no time.

You barely hear Matt praising you repeatedly over the high volume of your moans as he pulses and spills at the sensation of the clenching velvet walls of your cunt with a few final erratic thrusts.

His head drops to the crook of your neck and you smile against his cheek. "Loud enough for you, Mr Murdock?" you inquire, breathing heavily, the two of you still entangled in each other.

He tilts his head towards the door. "Enjoy the show, Frank?"

There's a low grunt from the other side of the door. "Fuck you both."

"maybe next time..." You call back in response, raising Matt's eyebrows to his hairline as you grin and kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"you started it."

[cellophaine]

Sad Girl (Part II)

Read Part I

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, not a happy ending.

Author's Note: Sooo, I severely overestimated how much free time I would have, and as it turns out, I have had not a lot and will have none free time for the next three weeks. My irl project is quite literally consuming me on top of the packing for an across the globe trip, so I won't be able to work actively on any writing project at all 🥲 I will be back to writing and posting in late fall/early winter! (hopefully)

P/S: I might write a part 3 to make up for the angst but uhm ... please don't come for me over the ending 🫣

GIF Credit

Judging by the sound of people and traffic outside, Matt knew he had slept in. Not that it mattered since it was a Saturday, and he had nowhere to be, especially after a night of going all out on a celebration with Foggy and Karen on the occasion of winning a big case for their client. With the new bonus lined in their pockets, Foggy gave a passionate speech about the grand plan of upgrading the office; Karen daydreamed about a proper heater for the upcoming winter while Matt zoned out, occasionally chiming in with a witty remark. He didn't enjoy his win as much as he should, as a part of him wished he could see you and tell you about it instead. He knew you would be happy for him and listen to every detail, just like you did whenever he told you about his day, when he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

The talking clock announced the time and date, and as Matt shifted back to the bed, a thought struck him. It had been three months since his last illicit affair with you. Matt sighed, pressing his face into the pillow at the thought of you. He had been thinking about you more and more every day. Matt blamed it on his coming to the acceptance that what you and he shared had long dissolved into thin air, becoming something that never was before you met. But the history was still there, at least for him. It didn't get to disappear. It stayed in his head, haunting him like a shadow at the edge of his conscience, waiting for a chance to occupy his thoughts whenever he found his mind strayed, and if he had to admit it, he didn't want to let it go. Matt replayed the last night he spent with you over and over, prying for little details of what had gone wrong, only to come up with none. You were curt with him, and the rebuttal he came up with was you were tired. You even said it yourself. Matt left you alone that night after that, and he even made sure that the two of you were okay. But he guessed it wasn't enough, as you completely shut him out afterward.

From time to time, Matt would stop by your place to check on you, to see if the wind chime returned, only to be disappointed by its absence. He would perch on the rooftop of your building, listening to the sound of your soft laugh alongside your favourite show. Matt was so close, yet so far away from you. He had gotten used to the silence, but he hadn't used to not seeing you, being around you. Even though a small part of him was crestfallen that you didn't seem to miss his presence, it made him happy to see you were still doing well. Even if it was without him.

Turning on his back, with his hand stretched over the empty space beside him, Matt couldn't help but wonder why you cut all contact with him, and why he had been so bothered by the fact. He could take the hint and accept a rejection, but he couldn't understand why your silence hurt him the most of all. Something was missing; Matt could feel it so clearly when he returned to his apartment at night after your arrangement was abruptly over. His place didn't have your scent, your candles, or even the overpowering aroma of the ointment you applied on him when he needed it. He even missed the coarseness of your fine cotton sheets on his too-sensitive skin. Yet, none of these little things could even begin to compare to how often he found himself missing your presence most of all. Your steady heartbeat and the way it quickened when he touched you. Your comforting scent when he buried his nose into your neck. The way your thighs found their home around his waist when he fucked you into the mattress, your bodies moving together in a desperate attempt at getting closer and closer until you were joined in one body made of flesh and bones. It wasn't just the sex that he missed. His heart involuntarily yearned for your laugh, your presence, being around you. He remembered how your apartment smelled like the tea you drink and how it would be cold by the end of his visits. He missed the way you seemed to know what he needed by paying attention to his body language and the way he conveyed his needs without words.

Matt ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. He needed to take a walk, to allow his mind to be uninhabited by you.

As Matt padded barefoot through the apartment, he was reminded once again of you by the soft floral fragrance in the sweater you left at his place. It was you he smelled, a warm and sheer powdery iris that he could never mistake for someone else, and a mix of his own scent, too. When he first noticed it in his closet, his heart fluttered when he realized what it was. Now, with its new place on the top of a dining chair, the faint floral was a reminder of what you were to him. He wished he could restore it to your scent and your scent only so he could hold onto you a little longer. Matt caught his stray thought and steered himself away from reminiscing. It was dangerously close to the territory he couldn't afford to enter. So he shut it out.

He really needed that walk.

The air was crisp and clear, which made everything around him stand out more. Matt took a moment to take in his surroundings. The neighbourhood felt lively amongst the aroma of coffee, steaming broth, greasy food and freshly baked pastries. The revving of a motorcycle passed by him, making his brows furrow over the loud noise and the waft of smoke it brought. He smelled more food, more body odour, but amidst all that chaos, something familiar arose. The scent reminded him of you. And once again, his thoughts strayed as if he couldn't help himself.

How could he have predicted the way things ended with you? Even if he knew beforehand, he couldn't prevent it from happening. It simply wasn't meant to be. You and him both knew what you were getting into, and it was nothing more than a casual exchange. And if his exclusion from your life was what you wanted, he would respect that. Still, Matt couldn't make sense of his desolation. It confused him, all the thoughts running through his head, all the ache wrapping around his heart like cellophane, circling around the truth buried so deep that he couldn't feel it for what it truly was. It was almost as if his heart already knew, but his mind refused to acknowledge it.

The iris scent got stronger, and Matt directed his attention toward it. His heart seemed to recognize it before his senses caught onto it, beating faster as it came closer, accompanied by the rhythm of a heartbeat he knew so well. It was unmistakenly you, your scent, your voice, as all the tangible signals drifted to him. He was aware that you hadn't seen him yet; his feet involuntarily picked up the pace, closing the distance between you. You were closer to him now, the closest in months. He listened to your voice as you chatted with your companion, unaware of him. And when you finally saw him, Matt could tell as the breath in your throat hitched. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to say hi, a soft smile on his face.

It was only seconds, yet it felt so long as your jacket brushed over his on the busy pavement; the brief contact ended before it even began. You kept walking further away from him as Matt's heart dropped in the realization that you didn't stop to acknowledge him. The familiar ache took hold of his heart and squeezed again. Matt brushed the feeling off by taking his own steps forward and away from you, only with less certainty and excitement. He was still close by when he heard it. The conversation you had with your companion.

"Hey. You okay?"

The woman's voice was full of concern.

"Uh, yeah, I'm … I'm fine."

There was a touch of hesitation in your voice.

"Are you sure? You look like you saw a ghost."

A small chuckle.

"I feel like I did."

A brief pause and a small yet determined exhale later.

"Don't worry. It's nothing."

His heart dropped even further at your words; the pain grabbed and pulled at his heartstrings violently. What you said to your friend manifested a bitter taste on his tongue, making his stomach churn. You pretending not to know him and ignoring him hurt him more than he realized. How could you? How could you act like the ink on the pages of your story had washed away so completely that the history you shared became a blank book? Why did he become nothing to you?

Matt wanted to know the unbridled truth and get the closure he was owed. He deserved that much.

–

About a week later, Matt waited for you to return home at the front of your building instead of the usual spot at your fire escape. It was late, almost time for him to go back to his apartment so he could start the patrol for the night. But that could wait.

Matt buried his hands into his pockets to shield them from the wind nipping at his skin. Leaning onto the brick pillar at the bottom of the steps, he closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart rate, reminding himself that it was just you, the woman he had known so well. But his logic persisted. Maybe he didn't know you at all. He could barely understand himself these days. Who was he to say that he knew you for who you really were?

His heart picked up its pace again once he heard the sound of your voice neared. You were laughing alongside the familiar voice from last week; the slightest slur in your words was enough for him to know that you were tipsy. The uneven clicks of your heels on the ground became steadier as you made your way toward the entrance and stopped when you approached him.

Matt stood up straight, clearing his throat softly.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

You wasted no time. Your voice was cold, and your demeanour was curt.

"I need to talk to you."

Your companion's voice interrupted him.

"Who are you?"

You pulled at your friend's sleeve, and after a brief pause, she released a small gasp and a soft "Oh". She then turned to him, her voice stern, leaving no room for any other interpretation.

"My friend doesn't have anything to say to you. So you can–"

"Mindy. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

Matt listened as the conversation wrapped up, with Mindy getting into a cab and you promising to call her if you wanted to talk. You closed the door, waiting until the taxi pulled away before returning to him, still keeping your distance.

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

Matt took a small step forward.

"About what happened between us."

"There is nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

The blankness in your voice made him feel like his skin was pricked with needles. He scoffed, bewildered with disbelief at your outright denial.

"I wouldn't call cutting off all contact, out of the blue, without an explanation, nothing."

When you didn't say anything, he continued.

"Why did you shut me out? It's like our relationship meant nothing to you."

His words seemed to get to you as you snapped back at him.

"There was nothing between us. There was no relationship."

You enunciated your words, making your intention clear.

"I cared for you the same way you cared for me. Isn't that something?"

The harsh puff of air escaped from you was scornful, and Matt knew he was getting somewhere.

"No. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I do. What do you mean by that?"

You stepped closer until you were inches away from him. You were so close that Matt could feel the tension in your body, the way your fists clenched into themselves, the way your heart pounded in your chest.

"You want the truth, Matt? The truth is I didn't want to set myself up for more disappointment, so I did what I thought was best for myself."

His brows scrunched together at the meaning behind your words.

"What kind of disappointment?"

You sighed heavily.

"The kind that came from knowing I could never be more to you. I thought you cared for me, Matt."

Your voice had gone quieter, so small that he felt like it took all of your strength to physically say it. He softened at that, and his hand reached out to find your cheek.

"I did. I still do."

But before the contact happened, you took a step back, avoiding his hand.

"No. You don't care about me like the way I cared for you. I was just your side piece that you could fuck whenever you–"

Matt was so taken aback by your firm conviction that he didn't register the latter part. He didn't care about the way you seemed to shy away from him and grasped your arms, pulling you close.

"You're more than that to me! You're my friend."

His chest heaved in exertion. He didn't know what else he could do to convince you. When you spoke, it was the way your voice shook that broke him.

"That wasn't enough for me, Matt."

Your hands came up to hold onto his arms, your grasp weak, but it gave Matt some hope. You swallowed hard.

"I lov– I liked you, so much that my heart hurts whenever you didn't stop by."

His heart rattled in its cage, wanting to break free at your confession. Your voice was so small, yet your words carried so much weight.

"I thought we could be more, but you confirmed that it wasn't in the cards for you, so … I did the best thing for both of us. I didn't want to waste anymore of your and my time."

Matt loosened his hold, his head dipped as he hoped you were looking at him.

"You knew what it would be like to be with me. I would go out and I might get hurt, and I didn't want to leave you by yourself worrying about me in case something happened."

You tore yourself away from his grasp, your voice raised in what felt like exasperation.

"You don't get it! I already went through those worries when we were still sleeping together. I was always worried about you when you got injured, when you came to my place just a little later than you said you would. I would be worried sick. So don't feed me that bull shit. I knew what I was getting myself into."

Matt fell silent, and for the first time, he lost his defence. So he returned to the start of it all.

"We agreed to be casual."

"Then why did you act like my boyfriend? Cuddling me to sleep? Making sure I was okay after a shitty day at work? I thought it was you showing that you cared about me more than just a fuck-buddy."

Your anger only intensified at his attempt at calmness.

"You're worth caring for. I didn't regret anything I did for you."

You chuckled, the sound bitter to his ears.

"Right. It doesn't matter anyway. You already have someone else waiting for you at home."

Confusion clouded his thoughts.

"What are you talking about?"

You scoffed in disbelief.

"I'm talking about Karen Page."

"What about her?"

"Don't pull that shit with me. I know you're together. I could tell by the way you acted throughout the interview and the photoshoot."

"You got it wrong. We used to date, but not anymore. We're only friends. Please, you have to trust me."

He could hear you moving toward him before feeling a jab of your finger at his chest; your face was closer to his for the first time in months.

"I don't care what the two of you are anymore, okay? It looked like that from my end. Do you know what it feels like knowing that you were made the other woman? I even defended you before my friend, saying that you actually loved me. I was so fucking stupid."

Your last words were dripped in a teary tone. Matt was speechless as you sobbed; the sound made his body throb with pain as if he was dealt with a thousand cuts. He noticed the way your heart thundered in your chest, but it wasn't out of dishonesty. It was out of the hate and love you had for him, both surging at once. Your heart thumped vigorously for him; your body burned with fervour because of him. He was too stubborn to see the signs for what they were: the affection and devotion you saved for him, reflected through the little things you did for him. You didn't have to say it. Your feeling for him was tangible and real, like the feel of your finger prodding at his chest. Real like the tears on your face at the expense of his unintentional ignorance.

Your hand fell to your side. Your anger subsided; now you were depleted, and Matt hated that he was the source of your distress.

"Please, understand where I came from. I didn't want to be a home wrecker. I just couldn't do it anymore."

He nodded. The silence stretched as the two of you let the confession infuse the air between you. Matt had asked for the truth, and he got it. Yet it was so suffocating that he felt like he couldn't breathe. All of your cards were laid on the table, and it was his turn to reveal his.

You sniffled, and your voice sobered up. But Matt could still hear the shakiness in it.

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. He held his cards close, afraid to confront the aftermath. After all, he had so much to lose.

You took his silence for your answer. You trained your voice to be cold again.

"Right. I hope you got what you came here for."

You brushed past him and ascended the steps, leaving Matt where he was: at the front of your door, in the cold autumn wind, alone. Like he always had been.

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!* Follow my side blog to receive notifications whenever I post! @cellophaine-archives

[your-not-invisible-to-me]

Wax Strips (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: This one shot was supposed to be a birthday present for @pastafossa, but in the time before and since their birthday I've gotten COVID, started a new job, and have been exhausted ever since. But, alas, it is finally written.

I haven't written fanfic in a long time. Please be kind.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary:

Matt prides himself on his memory until he forgets to take the trash out, causing you to learn a new secret.

Word Count: 1,825

Warnings for Chapter: mentions of toxic ex, insecurities, mentions of body hair/waxing

If there was one thing Matt Murdock was, it was precise.  

He wouldn’t have survived this long without it.  After everything he had been through with the accident, after everything he’d been through with Stick to lead to him becoming the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, who would he be if he wasn’t?  

That included his memory. Especially when it came to you.  

He remembered everything about the day you had come into his life. The way he picked up your heartbeat before you entered the building where the Nelson & Murdock office lay. You were old friends with Foggy, and had just moved back to the city.  

He remembered the sound of your footsteps as they pressed against the floor, each beat making his heart pound faster as he wondered who they belonged to.  

He remembered the smell of your perfume as it blew past his nose. Cherries and blossoms, like a fresh summer day brightening up the dark in his mind.  

It was your voice, however, that would be sketched into his soul.  

“And this is Matt Murdock, the second half of this esteemed establishment of course!” Foggy’s excitement about seeing his friend could be heard a mile away.  

“Hello.” Sweet and shy. Beautiful. He knew he needed more.  

“Hello,” said Matt. His voice was out like a whisper in the wind.  

After a moment of silence that was just a moment too long, it was Foggy who groaned in annoyance.  

“I’ll give each of you the other’s number later. Now come on, Matt has work to do and we have a lunch reservation.”  

It took Matt another six months before he even dared to mention his secret, completely surprised when you didn’t turn him in, or even worse, turn and run away. It was another six months after that when you finally moved in with him.  

But living together meant knowing everything- and there was one secret he wasn’t sure he was okay with you knowing yet.  

He had thrown them away in the small trashcan he had kept in the bathroom that the two of you now shared. All of his supplies were tucked safely away.  

That’s when he felt the fingers along his back, their soft pads wrapping around his stomach. It was then he felt your lips, soft kisses across his shoulder.  

You had just gotten back from a week-long work trip and apparently weren’t too keen to see him up this early in the morning.  

“It’s too early Matt, come back to bed.”  

The kisses continued across his back before you slowly turned him around, chasing lips of his own. The way your tongue hit his lips, slowly opening him up to chase the feel of his mouth made a shiver go down his spine. He let you pull him back to bed.  

He meant to throw the trash out of the bathroom, he really did.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat at the end of Foggy’s couch, nursing the beer in your hand. You knew Foggy was trying to tell you a story, but your mind was elsewhere.  

The sound of Matt leaving the apartment had long faded away when you finally convinced yourself to leave the safety of the warm covers. You padded into the bathroom, content to wash up and relieve yourself when you saw them bunched up in the trash.  

Wax strips.  

What was Matt doing with wax strips? You didn’t use them, that was for sure. Why would Matt? The pouring of thoughts started breaking through, and suddenly all you could do was wonder what had gone on in the apartment in the week you had been gone.  

“You okay?”  

“Hmm?”  

“Considering I finished my story, and you’ve been silent, I can only assume your mind is somewhere else,” said Foggy.  

“Sorry, Fogs, I just...”  

“What is it?”  

“Is Matt cheating on me?” you asked. The words were out before you could even blink.  

“What? What in the world are you talking about?” 

“I know you heard me, Foggy.”  

“Which is why I’m concerned. Do you know how long I’ve known Matt? I’ve never seen him more in love than he is now. Why on earth would you think he’s cheating on you?” He took a sip of his beer, his eyebrows scrunched in his own confusion.  

“I found wax strips in the bathroom trash!”  

And suddenly your face was spattered with beer as the only sounds you could hear were the one of Foggy’s laughter. You wiped your face, annoyed.  

“It’s not funny, Foggy! I don’t use wax strips!” You threw a pillow at his head.  

“Okay, one, rude with the pillow. Two. I know you don’t use wax strips. I can’t believe he’s still doing this, but they’re Matt’s.”  

And that’s when he told you.  

Matt had his fair share of ladies in college, but there was one girl, even before Elektra, that had done a number of him. One look at him without a shirt was all it took for her to dump him, and why?  

Cause he had chest hair. 

And she thought it was gross.  

Ever since then, Matt Murdock had a wax strip budget. He waxed his chest regularly, and never let another girl close enough to tell.  

As Foggy finished his story, all you could think about was one thing.  

Someone had hurt the love of your life so much that he felt like he couldn’t be honest with you. He felt like he had to change himself, as if anything different would make you run away. Finding out he was Daredevil was one thing, but you were finding yourself feeling different about this.  

Someone had hurt Matt’s heart, and that wasn’t okay with you.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting on the couch reading a book when he came home. The clang of the roof door echoed as he ran down the stairs and into the bathroom.  

“You okay?” you called out, head not looking up from the page you were, at this point, pretending to read.  

“Needed to pee!” The sound of the toilet flushing echoed throughout the apartment as you waited. You knew him too well.  

“Fuck.”  

There it is.  

More time passed before Matt slowly emerged from the bathroom, devil suit in hand as he now wore the t-shirt and sweats he sometimes kept in the bathroom. He threw the suit into the trunk before slowly turning to you, your head still looking at the book.  

“Sweetheart?”  

“Hmm?”  

“Did you, um, did you take the trash out?”  

“Yes, when I got home tonight.” You closed the book, finally looking up at him. “Is there a problem?”  

“No, no, it’s fine. I just, um.”  

In a way, this was fun. You hadn’t seen Matt flustered like this since the day he had first asked you to dinner. That being said, he was flustered for the wrong reasons.  

“What is it, Matt?”  

“You saw-.”  

“The wax strips, yes.”  

Matt stood there looking like a deer in the headlights. His eyes moved around quickly, and you knew what he was doing. He was trying to read you. But you knew he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. He wasn’t going to find the disgust.  

“Come here? Please?” You reached your arm out to him and waited, like trying to lure an abused pet into trusting you. Hell, maybe that’s what you were doing to an extent. He eventually took your hand, sitting on the other end of the couch. Before he could say anything, you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.  

The stiffness in his shoulders bled out in a near instant as he buried his head in your neck. You took your time, softly scratching your nails down his back as you just breathed with him.  

Eventually, you pulled back, taking his head in your hands.  

“I’m sorry, Matty.”  

“Sweetheart-”  

“No, let me finish.”  

His jaw snapped shut with an audible click.  

“I’m sorry that that stupid girl back then made you feel like this. But I’m even more sorry that I made you feel like this was something you needed to hide.”  

“You’re not, you didn’t, I... it doesn’t gross you out?” asked Matt. You could feel the worry simmer off his chest as if one wrong word from him would have you packing.  

“No, Matt, of course, it doesn’t. And even if it did, I would never ask you to shave or wax for me. Your body is natural. Chest hair is natural. You shouldn’t feel like you need to change it for anyone!”  

Matt dipped his head forward, giving you the perfect angle to place a kiss on his forehead. He let out a breath, each word shakier than the next as he spoke.  

“She told me it was gross. That just, that just looking at it made her want to vomit. I had never even given a thought to my chest hair before then. I didn’t think I had to. How does it not gross you out?”  

“Matthew Murdock, tell me, if I were to suddenly stop shaving my legs, would that gross you out? Would you tell me I needed to shave them or you’d leave me?”  

The silence spoke louder than words.  

“Exactly.”  

Matt let out a sigh, a soft thud could be heard as his back hit the couch. It wasn’t hard to understand that he still wasn’t sure.  

You took his chin in your hands, turning his head so you could give him a kiss. It still made you feel like you were floating on air the way he would automatically open himself to you in a moment like this. You pulled back gently.  

“Listen, I’m not saying you need to change anything that you don’t want to right now. It’s your body.” He shuddered as he could feel the breath of each word hit his lips. “I’m just saying that if you did want to? I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”  

You kissed him again, tracing your thumb against this jaw before breaking the kiss. He softly spoke. 

“Okay.”  

It was only a few weeks later when you walked into the bathroom as Matt was getting ready. He stood up from where he was rinsing his face and faced you, causing you to freeze in your path.  

Matt’s hairy chest.  

He’d apparently stopped waxing, cause low and behold your boyfriend stood in front of you, his hairy chest right there for you to see.  

It couldn’t have made you happier.  

“Good morning,” said Matt. The nerves could be heard as he waited for any sort of reaction from you.  

In an instant, your arms were around him. You rubbed your cheek against his chest as you buried your head into him. The little hairs tickled your face, feeling lovely as you pressed a kiss into his sternum. You looked up, placing a kiss on his chin.  

“Good morning.”  

The smile on his face was all you needed.  

A/N: Feedback/comments always appreciated! I tried proofreading this the best I could! Feel free to let me know if I missed something.

[pastaxandria]

The Red Thread: Chapter 157

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its shelves: Chapter 157 of The Red Thread.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Can I make a suggestion?” Foggy’s voice came out strangled and choked. “Like, just a-a little one?” “No. You can shut the fuck up and let her talk.” Your eyes darted right and then left, your gaze leaping from the trash can to the fridge and then up to the dividing wall it sat against. Karen narrowed her eyes, pointedly taking one step further into the kitchen. “Stop trying to figure out if you can escape by climbing the furniture.” “I wasn’t,” you said defensively. Lie.

Wordcount: 7.4k

Warnings for this chapter: some sexual innuendo but other than that, you're good!

Read me on AO3 because that’s where penguins hang out

[courtforshort15]

Drinking Buddies

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Other characters: Jessica Jones

Summary: Your friendship with Jessica Jones is solely based on drinking and giving Matt Murdock a hard time. You think it's the best thing ever.

Word Count: Just about 1,800

Trigger warning: Characters are drinking

Masterlist

Your vision is absolutely swimming and the noise of the bar isn't any less overwhelming. Loud conversations, louder music, the stale scent of beer floating around you. It's a lot, but you're gonna power through it like the badass bitch that you are because you're not ready to call it quits for the night. You forcibly swallow down the nausea.

Spitters are quitters.

You're not quite sure if the phrase necessarily applies to alcohol, but the sentiment is there.

"You good?" You snap your head around, noticing that Jessica is eyeing you in amusement. The sharp movement causes your head to spin.

"Wha--? I uh...yeah," you tell her disjointedly before offering a wide, drunken smile. "I'm good. Like realllly good."

Jessica snorts before tossing another shot back. She's not exactly sober either, but she's definitely better off than you right now. "You sure? Because you kinda look like you're about to fall off the chair and crack your head open."

"You'd catch me before that happens."

"Would I though?" She says it in such a blasé tone that you find yourself struggling to figure out if she actually would just let you fall.

Would she?

Fuck. You don't know.

"I'd press charges if you didn't," you threaten, doing your best to glare at her. It doesn't work, mostly because there's two of her and you don't know which one to focus on. "It would be all your fault."

"I don't think not stopping you from falling counts as a crime."

"That's what you think," you disagree, and the words could not sound more slurred. "The Supreme Court probably disagrees with you on that."

"Funnily enough, I don't think they'd give a shit," she says dryly.

"We could look at filing a civil case, if nothing else," a familiar voice pops up behind you. "Sue her for all she's worth. Which probably isn't much, if we're being honest."

Your head whips around, and you find yourself wobbling in your chair, teetering on the edge. A hand snaps out to settle you. Matt's face is full of concern, his other hand reaching out to grab the glass of water that's resting in front of you, wordlessly encouraging you to drink it.

"Aw man," you sigh, shooting Jessica the stink eye as you regain your balance and push the water away. "Why is he here?"

"You suggested karaoke. We all know you're too far gone when you hit that point."

"You're a goddamn traitor, Jessica. You didn't need to call him."

"He's your husband," Jessica states flatly.

"He's boring," you complain drunkenly. Her eyebrows raise in humor as she glances at him in consideration before nodding in agreement. "He never lets me stay out late."

"He's standing right here," Matt says dryly. His hand rests at your back as if nervous you're going to fall off your chair. Which, fair. You're pretty wasted. "And he's here to take you home."

"You weren't supposed to rat me out," you try glaring at Jessica again. Her smirk tells you you're unsuccessful in intimidating her.

Having super powered friends sucks.

"I didn't rat you out," she tosses back nonchalantly. "He already knew we were gonna be here. He was probably listening from a few blocks away the whole time like a weirdo."

Matt doesn't deny it.

"Yes, but you weren't supposed to actually call him."

"I may be able to lift a car, but I am sure as shit not carrying your drunk ass home. That's what husbands are for," Jessica tells you bluntly, but she's still smirking. "I am here to drink with you, not deal with you after."

You gasp, hand flying to your chest, absolutely wounded. "Rude. Why are we even friends?"

"Mostly because you like having someone else around to call Murdock out on his shit."

You ponder it for a second, then nod. "That is a fair point. Hey! Do you want to come over for waffles? Waffles sound amazing right now and we have a fantastic waffle maker at home."

Matt opens his mouth. "I don't think--"

"Shush, Matthew, the grown-ups are talking," you interrupt, placing a finger over his lips. He gives you an unamused look and smacks your hand away.

Jessica absolutely cackles.

"As much as that sounds like a great time, I'm going to pass on this one. I've seen you puke enough times."

"I'm not going to puke! You have zero faith in me."

"I can practically see your mouth salivating from here. You're like twenty minutes away from it."

You do a quick check in with your body and determine she's...probably not wrong.

"Okay, but you've still only seen me puke like twice."

"And that was more than enough," she says flatly. She tosses her credit card on to the bar top after glancing at the no doubt hefty bar tab the two of you have racked up. Matt throws his own card out to split the bill. What a wonderful husband, taking one for the team. "I have no interest seeing your dinner and the seven shots you knocked down come back up."

"Seven?" Matt asks incredulously.

"And three beers," Jessica adds, not so helpfully.

Matt looks decidedly not thrilled. "Fantastic."

"It was a rough day at work, Matt," you moan miserably, briefly burying your face in your hands for maximum effect as you unsuccessfully fake an excuse for being drunk off your ass. "I deserved it."

"It's Saturday. You didn't have work today."

A brief pause.

"Yesterday was a rough day at work," you amend. He's not impressed.

"You're a horrible influence on her," Matt states as he gives Jessica a look that suggests he's pretty annoyed. The woman shrugs, unconcerned.

"Your wife is a disaster all on her own, pal," she says with a grin.

"I'm the disaster?" You ask in mock outrage. "No, no, no, dear friend. Matt is the human disaster. Can't even go a week without needing stitches or blaming himself for all of the world's problems."

Jessica snorts. "You're not wrong there."

"I think it's time to leave, sweetheart." Matt pockets his wallet once the bartender hands him back his credit card. Jessica signs the receipt for him. You glance briefly at the total that's been charged to his card and decide to not to tell him what it is, knowing he won't be happy about the amount. He'll find out later, anyway.

Whoops.

"But it's only like 10pm," you protest loudly to Matt, shoving the issue of the credit card bill aside and focusing on the more important things. "It's too early, the party's just getting started."

"It's almost 2am."

"Oh," is all you say before eyeing Matt suspiciously. "Did you finish your patrol early just to come harrass me then?"

He doesn't answer, just continues to look like he can't decide if he's amused or exasperated that he's probably going to have to literally drag you out of here.

So that's a yes.

"Okay, so the party's already in full s-swing," you hiccup. You're determined to succesfully plead your case. "We still have at least another hour before bars close."

"We both know you're already going to be a mess with how much you've had to drink so far," Matt replies as he shakes his head. "Let's not push it. It's late and we have plans with your parents at 11am."

"I'm not sure using logic with her will work right now," Jessica tells him looking almost bored. "You gotta treat drunks like children."

"I'm sure you have plenty of experience being on the receiving end of that," Matt fires back. Jessica just shrugs because everyone knows he's completely right. "But I think I know how to handle my drunk wife."

"I'm just saying," she holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Might help if you treat her like she's the nicest baby drunk you've ever seen."

"Yeah, daddy, you gotta be nice to me," you slur, patting his chest. The glare Matt sends your way causes you to erupt into drunken giggles. "Whoops, sorry. Forgot he doesn't like it when I call him daddy in public. That's a bedroom only thing."

"Christ," Matt hisses under his breath.

Jessica laughs with absolute glee. She lowers her voice significantly so that only the three of you can hear her. "Never letting that one go. The Daddy of Hell's Kitchen."

You shriek with laughter, causing nearby patrons to look at you in annoyance. You lower your voice to a slurring whisper. You're absolutely fucked up on alcohol at the moment, but you're not interested in outing his identity. "Daredaddy has a nice ring to it, too."

Jessica's grin is absolutely merciless as she hones in on more ways to tease your husband. She's a great a friend like that. "Daddydevil could also work."

"Oh, I like that one. What about--"

"We're done here," Matt interrupts you before you can continue, grabbing your jacket and purse off your bar stool. "Come on sweetheart, it's time to go home."

"Noooo," you whine, trying to push him away. Matt doesn't so much as budge, the asshole. "Jessica and I are still having fun. Go be a Debbie Downer somewhere else."

"I am having a ton of fun right now," Jessica says before taking another shot. When did she get another shot? You want one. "Please, tell me more of your bedroom secrets. This is great."

Your eyes light up. "Okay! So Matt really likes it when he gets to--"

"No," Matt groans, throwing his head back as he no doubt prays for patience. "She doesn't need to know anything, it's none of her business."

"But she's my friend," you tell him, feeling a full blown pout coming on. He's generally immune them, but you try anyway. "Girls share these types of things."

"She's not a girl," Matt all but snaps, and he looks extremely irritated at this point. "She's a menace."

You turn to Jessica, eyebrows raised, offended that your husband is being so rude to your friend. "When did he get this grumpy?" You ask her in a stage whisper. "Do you think I need to suck his cock more? Maybe I should--"

You're abruptly dragged out of your seat and yanked towards the door before you can finish what you're saying, Matt's cane angrily tapping in front of him. You giggle, finding it funny that he's so pissed, he's barely pretending to use it.

Jessica is absolutely howling behind you, and Matt throws a middle finger her way before pulling you through the exit door of the bar.

"Bye Jessica!" You screech at her on your way out. Jessica waves, laughing too hysterically to say anything back. "I love you!"

You manage to not puke until you're home, so you count it as a wildly successful ladies night out. Matt glowers as he holds your hair back. "You're never hanging out with Jessica again."

Joke's on him. You've already made plans with her for next weekend, and Karen and Claire will be joining.

It will be magical.

[deceitfuldevil]

Practice Makes Perfect

Matt Murdock X Reader

Summary: Despite constantly chasing each other, you and Matt were always preoccupied with someone else. So when you beg Matt to call you with a fake emergency to get you out of a date and you have to tell him exactly why you wanted out. . . things get complicated. Matt found it simply impossible anyone could think you were a bad kisser, so he just had to see for himself. You wanted to get better after all. . . and practicing kissing with your best friend should be easy right?

Warnings: kissing (duh), college! Matt, general fluff, friends to lovers, and lots of dialogue.

Word Count: 1.7K

It was your first year of law school, and you had just walked into your 5th period civil procedure class a few minutes late. Sneaking to the very back of the classroom trying to draw as little attention as possible from your classmates, you sat next to a notably handsome man with red lenses adorning his face. You didn’t say anything to him at first, just pulling out your notebook and trying to scribble down what was on the board before it was erased. But you were so far away you could barely make out what the professor had written, you learned over keeping your eyes trained on the board as said to the man next to you: “I don’t know how you can read the board this far away, you must have super sight of something.”

You obviously hadn’t taken a good enough look at the handsome man beside you because he perked up with a laugh and said: “Quite the opposite, but I can lend you my notes if you can read braille.” you took your eyes off the board and back to the man seated next to you for another glace. Glancing over his red lenses once more and then letting your eyes fall on the red and white cane propped up against his seat you hadn’t noticed before. Gathering context clues from your surroundings you gasped quietly, clasping your hands over your mouth after realizing the weight of what you said.

“Oh my, I am so sorry.” you said with a small laugh. He seemed to enjoy the moment as much as you, a smile evident on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. . . I’m Matt.” he said, extending his hand out in your direction.

“Y/n.” you said, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. Starting what would be a very close friendship. Truth be told, you initially started talking to Matt in hopes of becoming something more but as time progressed and you became close you settled for being his friend. You were never aware the feeling was mutual, and there wasn’t much Matt could do because there was always someone else. If you weren’t talking to someone, he was. In the end you were always there for him at the end of his failed endeavors, as he was for you. It was a bittersweet connection the two of you shared.

So, now that you were stuck on another dead-end date, you texted Matt saying ‘call me with an emergency.’ and despite however many times you’ve sent a text like that to Matt, he never failed to panic when he heard it read aloud to him. This time Matt was confused and called you with genuine concern, you kept up an act over the phone and told him you’d be right over to his dorm, leaving your date in the dust. Matt could sense you before you even got to the stairwell, heart racing with anxiety and out of breath.

When you got to the door, you barely knocked before Matt swung it open and asked you what was wrong. You were clearly anxious but you didn’t say that, you just admitted that there was no real emergency and that you wanted to get out of that date.

“Why did you want to get out of the date? He didn’t try anything, did he?” Matt said, voice low and fists clenched.

“No no nothing like that, well actually a reason like that is why I keep cutting our dates short. Honestly I don’t know why I keep trying, like he’ll think I’m any better.” You said hastily, pacing around Matt’s empty dorm.

“What do you mean ‘a reason like that’? Are you afraid to go to the next step with him y/n?” Matt asked, paining him to let those words slip out his mouth.

“Yes, no, it’s complicated.” You said, now completely frazzled. Matt came to your side, running one hand along your arm as you reached down for your hand and bringing the other to your cheek.

“Y/n, you can talk to me. I’m here for you no matter what, you know that.” Matt assured you, leading you to his bed for you both to sit down on.

“It’s just that I—” you hesitated, afraid to admit such a childish thing. “I’m afraid to kiss him.”

“Why? Does he have really chapped looking lips or something?” Matt joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“No no it’s nothing to do with him it’s just that… the last guy I kissed told me I was. . . bad at it.” You said, the last few words slipping out quickly as you cringed internally, reliving the memory.

“Bad at kissing? You’re joking right?” Matt said somewhat incredulously.

“You haven’t kissed me Murdock, don’t laugh like it’s not possible.” You said with a slight huff, not happy that Matt couldn’t even rack his brain to believe you.

“I could.” Matt said, out of context.

��You could what?” You asked.

“Kiss you.” Matt said, like it was the most simple and obvious answer in the world. But sensing your thumping heart and heat spreading to your cheeks he made a clarification.

“Or help you, well, both. You know?” Matt explained l, picking up some of your nervous energy.

“No, I don’t know. What are you getting at here?” You said suddenly feeling very aware of your hand still locked in Matt’s grasp.

“You could practice kissing. . . with me. If you’re so worried that whatever asshole you were with last, that what he said was true… I could help.” He explained, heat now flooding to his own cheeks.

“Matt I— you’re my best friend and,”

“That’s exactly why it would work! We’re just friends, and friends help each other, right?” Matt said with a soft tone.

“Yeah, I guess they do…” you trailed off, waiting for Matt’s response but he didn’t give one. He was probably still racking his mind for what to do now that he was in the unlikely event that you agreed to practice kissing with him.

“So when’s Foggy going to get back?” You asked shyly, subtly scooting closer to Matt on his twin sized dorm room bed.

“Uh, not till 8… he took a night class this semester.” Matt said, feeling excitement radiate off of you. Not the kind of excitement he expected though…

“Could we… practice now?” You asked innocently, leaving Matt to feel like that meme where he doesn’t know what to do now because he didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Sure yeah let me just…” Matt said, taking off his glasses and facing his unfocused eyes towards you. It was the first time you ever got a good look at his eyes.

“So you want me to just go or…?“

“Just kiss me, Matthew. Nothing is going to make this less awkward than it—“ your first few words acted as the only allowance Matt needed because he quickly slipped his hand under your chin and pulled you in for a kiss.

It was rushed, messy, out of order. Matt wasn’t sure if he could hear your heartbeat or his own pounding in his ears, at some point your lips had parted giving Matt access to your mouth if he so pleased. But everything was happening so fast and suddenly Matt couldn’t breathe, and he found himself pulling away.

He sat back, head twitched still replaying the moment you two just shared over and over again in his head. When he brought his fingers up to trace his lips and ground himself to this moment he realized you hadn’t said anything either, thumb running across his bottom lip he could sense that you were staying very still like you were having some kind of revelation.

“Was that um, okay or—“ Matt broke the silence awkwardly, but you cut him off and said “just shut up for a second.” As you grabbed the collar of Matt’s black shirt that was always just a little too tight for him and pulled him in for another kiss.

This kiss was smoother, full of sure eagerness and newfound attraction. This time you both remembered to breathe through your nose and matched paces with one another almost immediately. This time when you parted your lips Matt reciprocated and darted his tongue over your lips, causing your heart to skip a beat, which he definitely heard.

Matt continued to explore your mouth as he eased you up into his bed completely, now you were under him propped up against Matt’s pillow, still passionately kissing him. Forgetting whatever he was raised on by all means Matt wanted to keep going but when he felt himself get a little too excited, he parted his lips from yours.

Neither of you spoke for a minute after that, you just laid very closely to Matt cuddled into his side catching your breaths.

“You know, I don’t know what that other guy was talking about but you are definitely not a bad kisser.” Matt said, eyes gleaming towards the ceiling as he held you close. His comment made laughter bubble up inside you giving Matt the joy of hearing one of his favorite sounds.

“I’ve gotta talk to Adam.” You said quietly, making a mental note to yourself. But you could quite literally feel Matt deflate beside you at your words. “Oh no no no not like that, I just have to tell him I can’t see him anymore.” You said reassuringly, taking one hand and running over Matt’s jaw.

“That good of a practice kiss huh?” Matt asked confidently.

“Wait till you see the real thing.” You said teasingly, pressing your lips to his for another kiss.

—

A/N

If I remember correctly I saw one post where someone was talking about their favorite tropes and briefly mentioned practice kissing, and then fan fic writing brain went brrrrrr. I knew the trope paired perfectly with college! Matt Murdock so some odd 2am writing tangent (I’m sure) later and here this baby is <3 Anyways hope y’all enjoyed this fic bcuz I thought it was pretty cute!

Much Love,

—Skyler

[kl4us4]

CAN’T LET YOU GO (Matthew Murdock xF!Reader)

summary: when matty shows up beaten and bruised - again - you’re not sure how much more you can take.

masterlist

It wasn’t fine when you saw the first bruise, two years ago, when Matthew Murdock stepped into the courthouse beside Foggy Nelson. He was just a lawyer to you back then; someone you’d occasionally see while gathering article material. Even when you had both gotten closer, and he had told you he was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, the scars and faint bruises covering his body made you ache. It wasn’t fine when, a month ago, he had shown up on your doorstep, leaving a trail of blood on your windowsill. And now, as he uses the last of his strength to pry open the window to your office, it still isn’t fine.

Your eyes widen to a point that’s almost comical as you jump from your chair, shoving past your desk towards the window, “Matty? What- what the hell happened?!”

“N-Need help,” he groans out, one hand pressing against the wall as you latch yourself underneath his other arm.

“Okay, o-okay, uh, come here,” you nearly stumble with his weight on your shoulder but manage to seat him down against the wall. He lets out a grunt, teeth clenching together. “S-Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“‘S-s okay, sweetheart,” he pants, a shaky hand reaching up to tear the black mask off, “I’m- fine.”

“Fine?! You’re-” you shoot him a glare, “You’re covered in blood!”

Matt lets out a small chuckle, trying to muster up any humour he can, “Not all… mine.”

“What do I do?” You whisper to him, eyes scanning his face worriedly, “Matty, you’re- Jesus Christ, you look pale. What do I do?”

“G-Got a-a first aid kit?” He asks, though he knows there’s always one in every workplace. You jump to your feet, tearing open your office door and heading for the kitchen area. It’s late, way past the New York Bulletin's closing hours, which is why Matty decided to scale the building and seek your help; though he’s not sure who else he could’ve come to. Matthew opens his eyes to the feeling of your hand tapping his cheek.

Your voice soon comes back into focus, “Matty! Please! Please, don’t do this to me. Come on.”

He opens his eyes, stirring a little before letting out a choked groan, “‘M here, I-I’m sorry. Tired, Y/N.”

“Keep your eyes open,” you order, pressing a few clean kitchen towels into his hand, “put pressure on your side.”

“Not too deep,” he reassures you, “wouldn’t have - ah, wouldn’t have come to you if it w-were.”

He can hear your heartbeat elevated and he knows his words do nothing to put you at ease. Grabbing a saline wipe, you press it against the cut on his temple, softly wiping the stray blood. “What happened, Matty?”

Matthew smiles briefly, the cut in his side burning less as the kitchen towels soak up his blood. “Bad guys.”

You meet his distant gaze, “Yeah. I figured.”

“Too many of them,” he admits quietly, letting out a short sigh, “I think they were waiting for me.”

“I’ve heard your name being thrown around a lot lately,” you admit to him, swapping the red wipe for a fresh one, “the Devil’s got a lot of people talking.”

“I know,” he answers, hands gripping the towel for a moment.

“Let me see,” you tug at his hand gently, lifting the kitchen towels slowly, “I don’t think you’re bleeding as much. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” he gives you a weak nod, “just had to catch my breath. I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“I can’t- I-” you cut yourself off before you can raise your voice and speak out of turn, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, “I really hate seeing you like this.”

You place the towels down, using saline and a wipe to clean over the wound. It’s long and red, but not deep - he was right, he’ll be fine. But you’re not sure how much more of this you can endure.

When you press a large bandage to his skin, Matty’s hand grazes yours, “I’m alright. Really.”

You look up at him, his tired eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the slight smile he wears so prettily. “Yeah, of course you’re alright. You’re always just fine.”

He frowns for a moment, head tilting before he gently tugs on your hand, “Come here, sweetheart. Please?” You almost cry at the softness in his voice. Pressing your back against the wall beside him, you press your head against his shoulder. Matty wraps an arm around you, his hand stroking your hair gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he lets out a quiet breath, turning his head to press his lips against your temple, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“You always scare me,” you whisper to him, eyes closed as you press into him carefully, “I don’t… Matty, I don’t know much more of this I can take.”

He stiffens a little, a frown crossing his features, “Sweetheart?”

“I know that people always say ‘if you love someone, let them go’ but I… I can’t stand the thought of not being with you. I-I know that- I know you’ve been doing this longer than you’ve ever known me. And I can’t expect you to change who you are. But sometimes, I…” your voice shakes a little and you pull away from him, looking up at his pained expression, “I don’t know if you’re gonna make it home or not. And it really kills me. I love you. I really love you but I-I can’t let you go. And I don’t want to lose you, Matty. I can't let you go.”

“Hey, hey, shh, sweetheart,” he wraps his arms around you tighter, shaking his head gently, “you’re not gonna lose me.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” you murmur quietly, feeling hot tears lining your eyes, “neither of us can.”

Matthew stays silent for a moment, taking a breath and holding you close. “I, uh,” he begins, licking his lips, “I love you too. I really love you. You know for… for the longest time, I didn’t think I was gonna find someone I wanted to spend my entire life with. Thought I was, I don’t know, cursed or something,” Matthew lets out a breathy laugh, loosening his grasp on you and angling his head towards you, “until I got to know you. ‘Cause you’re so wonderful. And you… you saw me- you see me. You make me want to be better.”

“You’re already the best,” you laugh softly, pressing a hand to his cheek.

Matt leans into your touch, eyes falling shut for a moment before he smiles, “I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you, I mean that. I mean it with all of my heart. So I… I don’t want to do anything to ruin this. But, sweetheart, I… I can’t… stop.”

You let out a sniff, nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s who you are. If I heard what you heard, and I could do what you do, I'm not sure I'd be able to put the mask away either.”

He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. “But I promise I’m not gonna scare you again. I won’t put myself in this situation again, I… I knew it’d end ugly and I could’ve walked away but I didn’t. And for that, I’m sorry,” he inches his face towards yours slowly, his lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss, “I want to come home to you every night, for the rest of my life, and I’m not gonna put that at risk.”

You glance at his lips, wiping a stray tear from your cheek, “Promise?”

He smiles fondly, “I promise.”

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Me and the devil, walking side by side.

Matt Murdock x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, fluff.

A/n: I've never written for Matt before so I'm sorry if it's shit. (Matt isn't blind in this story)

Summary: Matt and Y/n have been dating for six years, They both hold a secret that is about to be uncovered. Y/n knows of Matt, but what she doesn't know, is of his nights as the vigilante Daredevil. Matt sees Y/n but what he doesn't see is Cadaver. A silent (The city assumed it was a man) person who went about the joint kicking ass and taking names.

________________

Y/n crashed through a window and rolled onto a roof, four men surrounded her and held up knives.

"Well Cadaver, looks like you're just as dead as your fuckin name!"

She turned to him, voice changer turned on..

"Was that supposed to be clever? You just sounded like an idiot."

Daredevil stood on top of the service shed, staring down at what was going on below him.

"Well come on then, what are you waiting for? Oh! You want me to make the first move!? Okay!"

Y/n grabbed one of the men by the front of his shirt and punched him, spinning around she smacked the knife out of the other man's hand and pushed him into the other.

She dodged a swing from the man with a scar, Daredevil jumped down and began taking on the two she pushed. The man she punched stood up and grabbed the knife, sinking it deep into her side.

She cried out in pain and flipped the guy over her shoulder, kicking him in the head to knock him out. The other she pushed off the roof and he landed on the top of a car.

Y/n turned around to see Daredevil standing over the unconscious bodies of the other two men. She slowly walked a tad closer, Y/n picked up the knife and slipped it into her boot.

Matt took note of how her black mask shined in the moonlight, he tilted his head and asked...

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cadaver, and you're in my district." A warped low voice replied from the person in front of him.

"Strange way of saying thank you."

"Who are you?"

"Daredevil, but...my true name...I'll leave you guessing."

Y/n smiled, she liked this guy's attitude. He reminded her of Matt.

They moved closer, circling each other. Y/n gasped when she felt a hot sting come from her side, her adrenaline was wearing off and she was starting to feel the pain from being stabbed.

"Fuckin hell!" She cursed.

Matt looked at her side and stepped closer, she held up her hand for him to stop. He did and watched as blood started running down the black leather suit she was wearing.

"Hey, thank you for helping me...imma go...you do you...I hope I see you again." She said.

He nodded and watched as she jumped off the side of the building.

_________________

Matt got home to Y/n making dinner, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Matt pressed gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder and turned her to him.

"You smell amazing." He whispered.

She smiled. "And you, my love. Smell like sweat and dirt. What the hell have you been doing?"

"Nothing important."

She shrugged and pointed to the bathroom.

"Go take a shower, then come eat dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He dipped his head and captured her lips and a deep loving kiss, the headed off to the bathroom.

_______________________

Cadaver sat on the edge of a tall building with Daredevil, they looked out onto the city and just took it all in.

"Do you have anyone special?" He asked.

She looked at him confused..

"We just fucked up around 20 people and that's what you ask me?"

"It was a simple question."

She nodded, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm currently in a relationship, me and him-" she cut herself off.

He looked over at her and chuckled..

"I had a feeling you were a woman, your personality and the style in which you fight. Please continue."

She took a deep breath.

"Me and him have been together for a long time, he handsome and tall. Funny and sometimes stupid, he's really good at his job."

Y/n looked over at him.

"Do you have anyone?" She asked.

"Oh yes." Matt replied with the biggest smile on his face. "Y/n is the sweetest little thing you could ever lay eyes on. She's young beautiful, kind. She'd never hurt a fly."

"Y/n, huh?" That's a beautiful name.

He smiled. "She is my everything."

Y/n was sitting there eyes wide, he couldn't see. She had her mask on, she couldn't believe it was Matt sitting in front of her. Anyone could have the same name as her, but NO ONE! Could have the same voice as Matt. He said she wouldn't hurt a fly, but here she was kicking the ever loving shit out.of criminals.

"I gotta go." She said. "He's probably expecting me."

He smiled and nodded.

"Ill make one last round of your district then I think I'll head home too."

"Goodnight." Cadaver whispered.

________________

Y/n came crashing through the front door ripping the leather suit off of herself. kicking the door shut, y/n took a mad dash to the stairs and bolted to the bedroom.

"Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Holy fuck!" She yelled.

Y/n pulled on a t-shirt and sweat pants, she rolled up her suit and tossed it into the back of the closet, she popped the trim of the wall and pushed her mask into the square cut out she made in the wall.

"Sweet heart, I'm home." Matt yelled from downstairs.

Y/n slowly made her way to him, wrapping him in a warm hug and gently kissing his neck.

"Oh, is that what you want tonight?" He asked in a sly tone.

Capturing his lips in a searing kiss she agreed with herself. Yep, Matt was definitely Daredevil.

He dragged his hands down her sides, but stopped when she let out a sharp gasp.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked.

Then he felt the hot liquid seeping into her shirt, he looked at her side and saw the blood.

Matt picked her up and laid her on the couch, he lifted her shirt just enough to inspect the wound. Matt winced when she cried out in pain, it reminded him of the night he helped Cadaver. He looked at Y/n and lowered his brows, he then went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel and the med kit.

Matt stitched her up pretty nicely, he was bandaging her up when he asked. "How did you get stabbed?"

Y/n was quite, she knew he was onto her. Best not to lie, why would she lie? He wouldn't be mad at her, would he? Even if he was she could have his ass in a vice for the Daredevil shit. Finally she had the courage to speak.

"Do you have anyone special?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, he moved closer and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Oh yes, she is the sweetest little thing you could ever lay eyes on. She's young, beautiful, kind. And she can kick some serious ass."

THE END❤️

[pastafossa]

“And The Holly Cookies Too” (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right I had to go out to shovel the furnace pipes again so while I’m waiting to warm up and go back to bed, I figured I’d finish editing and drop this little bit of TRT Christmas fluff, too, as a bonus! Summary: Matt is determined to support you in your experimental Christmas cookie bake-a-thon, even if it kills him. Warnings: none really, just Matt and his senses and cookies and humor. Wordcount: 1,481 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. This is technically TRT’s reader again, but TRT is not required reading. 

“Right.” You put your hands on your hips, narrowing your eyes at the messy sea of ingredients on the counter and the containers stacked high on the kitchen table. “So we’ve done… cranberry shortbread—”

“Mhm,” Matt said behind you, his voice muffled.

“Gingerbread. Italian rainbow cookies. Ciro’s Christmas pizzelles. Your dad’s seven-layer cookies.”

“Mhm.”

“Christmas fudge. Snowball cookies.” You glanced back, then did a double take. “Matt.”

“Mmm?” he said, dusting his fingers off on his shirt.

 “Stop eating the snowballs.”

 “I wasn’t,” he said around a mouthful of snowball, blinking innocently at you.

“Then why is there powdered sugar on your face?”

“I can’t see them,” he said mournfully, abruptly shifting his argument. He tipped his head, licking the powdered sugar off his lips, and only Matt Murdock could manage a look so tragic after he’d just been caught red-handed… or sugar-handed, rather, with the evidence literally written across his face. “How was I supposed to know these were the snowballs?”

You snatched another snowball out of his hand, and he pulled a sad face until you leaned in and smacked a kiss against his lips. “Don’t eat them until after I pick the ones that we can give away. I want to make sure we have enough.”

 At that, he chuckled, leaning in to touch his forehead to yours. “Sweetheart, we’ve been baking all day. We’ve got hundreds of cookies.”

 “Some might be bad. I want to make sure I have good ones to give away,” you fretted, turning back around to stare at your latest project: a tray of sticky, marshmallow-y holly cookies. It had amazed you how much food coloring you’d needed to dump in to achieve the bright-green color, but damned if it hadn’t worked. Each little clump of cornflakes, held together by a sticky green mass of melted marshmallow, looked just like a holly leaf, complete with bright red cinnamon candies set in like berries. Or… or did they look like holly leaves? Were they too crooked? “Everyone else has gotten way more practice than me. I’m behind. I don’t want to be…”

“Be what?” He set his head over your shoulder as you morosely nudged at one of the holly cookies.

“Bad at Christmas,” you admitted.

“You can’t be bad at Christmas,” he told you gently. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart.”

“But what if I am!?” you howled, throwing your sticky hands up in the air. “Jesus—”

“Close,” Matt said with a straight face. “He’s on Christmas eve.”

“You know what I mean!” You turned, pulling away to pace wildly in the kitchen, baring your teeth at the holly cookies as if they were an enemy that needed defeating. “They look crooked.”

Matt closed his mouth, turning his head with a furrowed brow to consider the cookies.

“What are you doing?” you asked him curiously.

“They don’t…” He narrowed his eyes in focus. “They don’t… sound crooked? And even if they were, isn’t nature crooked? I’m sure they’re fine.”

You let out a huff, abruptly circling around, soothed a little by the sheer determination Matt had aimed towards your holly cookies. You let out a sigh as you stepped back up beside him, staring down at the cookies silently.

Maybe… maybe they didn’t look… all that bad.

“You think they’re ok?” you asked him nervously.

“I think they sound and feel amazing.” He leaned over to kiss your temple, and—you had a feeling—left some powdered sugar in your hair from the snowballs he’d been stealing. “For obvious reasons, I’m a poor judge of looks, and there’s a lot of sugar and cinnamon in the air from the last batch so I can’t quite separate the taste, but I’m sure they’re perfect.”

“I guess they look alright,” you mumbled, reaching forward to nudge one with another sigh. “Besides, it’s half taste anyway.”

“Let me try one, then.”

You threw him a baffled look. “What, these?”

“Yeah.”

“You hate green.”

He made a noise of protest. “I don’t hate green.”

“The last time you had something with green food coloring, you pulled a level ten stinky cat face. These have way more green food coloring than that.”

“It’s different when it’s a cookie,” he said stubbornly.

“Are you lying?”

“No,” he lied, licking his lips just once.

You narrowed your eyes. “You are lying! Matt—”

But it was too late. Before you could blink he’d snatched up one of the holly cookies and darted out of the kitchen. “They’re fine,” he told you, backing away. “I can smell the green. There’s not too much.”

You quickly came around the corner, pointing a finger as Matt boldly lifted the cookie. “Matt, don’t you dare.”

He got that look in his eye—the one that spelled trouble, the one that ended in gunshot wounds and legal cases best avoided, the one that meant he was about to do something absolutely ridiculous.

He took a confident, massive bite.

And froze.

Silence.

His lips and nose twitched, and you swore you could see the momentary flash of regret sweep through his eyes.

“You’re trying not to make the face, aren’t you?” You stepped in closer, mildly amused now. “The stinky cat face.”

“No,” he said, very, very carefully, his voice hoarse behind a mouthful of green food coloring and processed marshmallow. His nose and mouth wrinkled briefly before he forced it down, struggling with himself as he tried to chew. You swore his eye twitched. “These are… delicious.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said fondly, your lips curling up into a grin at just how determined he was to carry on the lie for your sake. “Please stop suffering for me.”

“I’m just… enjoying it,” he said roughly, and oh, this time his eyes did twitch as he swallowed with great reluctance. It looked like it went down like acid, his body shivering as if to punish him for what he’d just knowingly ingested. Even so, he twisted his face into an approximation of contentment. “That… was one of the best cookies you’ve ever made. I didn’t… taste the green at all. People will love it.”

You held out a hand for the rest of the cookie. “I appreciate your attempts to lie to me about my terrible holly cookies, but—”

He shot you a look, something like absolute fire in his dark eyes.

Shit.

You shouldn’t have said that.

“Matt, give me the cookie,” you said quickly. He tipped his head and took one slow step back.

“Matt—”

“...No,” he said hotly, clenching his jaw. “I want to eat it. It’s mine.”

You darted after him, and he took off, vaulting over the couch with one hand, your holly cookie in his other. You, unfortunately, had to go around and by the time you circled the couch, he’d already hit the first landing on the stairs, and goddamit, normally you loved his level of athleticism, but not when you were trying to take something back from him like he was a dog who’d run off with the remote.

 “Matt!” you shouted from the bottom of the stairs as he spun, now on the second level. “Don’t fucking eat that, I appreciate it, but you don’t—”

Which was when Matt—somehow managing the appearance of direct, aggressive eye contact—promptly shoved the entire goddamn cookie into his mouth.

“Are you serious?” you barked. “Matt—”

Matt stubbornly closed his mouth and chewed, once.

Then abruptly spun around, his back to you.

There was a choked noise, and you snorted as you came up the stairs. “Matt, spit it out.”

Another, more stubborn choked noise, and this time he shuddered. You were pretty sure he was just trying to get it down as fast as possible at this point, and you didn’t blame him.

“You goddamn masochist,” you said affectionately as you reached him, rubbing your hand softly down his shuddering back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I love you,” he said hoarsely, fervent determination lying beneath, and you managed to spin him just in time to watch him work his throat, forcing down the rest of the holly cookie. He groaned as he did, though he tried to make it sound more like a moan of delight. “It… was amazing, sweetheart.”

And now that you got a better look at him, you slapped a hand over your mouth, holding back your laughter. “Oh God, Matt.”

His lips and tongue were now a bright, vibrant shade of emerald green.

Something he seemed to notice the second you did.

He lurched, his mouth falling open, his hand rising for just a moment as if in instinct to scratch at his tongue. He made a strange, ragged noise, then, one somehow full of both regret and apology.

You caught his chin, leaning in to kiss his cheek in sympathy. “I love you. Thank you for trying. It was a wonderful Christmas gift.”

“I’m sorry,” he grit out, groaning and leaning in to bury his face against your neck, his words garbled as if he hated the taste of his own tongue. “I-I tried. God, I hate green.”

“I know you did.” You kissed his hair beneath the glow of the Christmas tree, and somehow the Christmas lights were even less green than his mouth. And, well, even if your cookies didn’t ever turn out perfect, you’d still come out ahead as long as you had Matt here to try them with you. The reminder made you... a lot less nervous about the whole thing, even if you were hoping to prevent something like this from happening again. “No more holly cookies for either of us.”

“No more holly cookies.”

[farfromstrange]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock x Vampire!reader (f!reader)

Part 1 // Part 2 (currently here) // Part 3 (coming soon)

PART TWO - Humans are dying at the hands of her species and she has to do something about it, but how can she when the object of her attraction just so happens to stumble into her path over and over again, as if he's just as addicted to her as she is to him?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Very explicit sexual language, dubious consent (inappropriate touching, dirty talk), blood, vampires, death, bad humor, plot, religious imagery (?), submissive Matt Murdock, Dom!Reader, DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat), really, this is absolutely filthy dark, AND not proof-read

A/n: This is so dark, holy shit… Here’s the second part! I hope you’re not mad at me that I left you waiting. 2023 already feels so weird I don’t know why, but I’ve finally finished this chapter and I’m getting to work on the third one as we speak. The smut is coming soon, I promise. Until then, I’m just going to get you all worked up :)

DARK CONTENT UNDER HERE, 18+ ONLY!

Ever since the beginning of time, humans have felt threatened by their fellow species. The goal is self-preservation rather than preserving the world around them. At the same time though, there has never been another species so hell-bent on destroying their habitat than the human race. 

She watched the seasons come and go. Where one life ended, another started. Humans were fast to reproduce, she realized, but they were also just as fast to die. Sickness and injury are the biggest threats to the human body.  You could be okay one second, then on your deathbed the next. While the female body could withstand the terrible strain of childbirth, it stands no chance against cancer. You could bleed out in seconds if the right vein is nicked, and if you fall the wrong way, a broken neck will either kill you instantly or leave you dependent on machines for the rest of your life. 

While humans are considered the most sophisticated species since the beginning of time, they are all collectively fragile. 

The last time she was actively human, she didn’t even have a quarter of the knowledge at hand that she gained later in life. Times have changed since then. The world grew into something new, something modern, and the human race evolved with it. 

They’ve never had many nice words to say about her kind, so it came naturally to be terrified of a species that was more than willing to eradicate her own.

Sure, killing and blood-sucking isn’t something that goes over well with a crowd, but she often emphasized that they weren’t all cold-blooded murderers. Not all vampires were the same, and the lore often got it wrong.

Cold, they were, but only temperature-wise. Her half of the litter, anyway. And they were murderers too, else they wouldn’t have survived this long. Drinking blood to survive was a curse she wished upon no one. It naturally made her species reborn killers; they had to take a life to sustain their own, and since death and starvation weren’t in the cards without a stake through the heart, they had to follow their most primal instincts.

She tried to refrain from murder like a good citizen, and it worked, most of the time. There are other ways to get blood that doesn’t involve murdering an innocent. In Hell’s Kitchen, she could easily roll open a map and point to a random place, and she surely would have found criminals deserving of punishment.

But there were also humans who didn’t fear her species, those who were willing to give to the cause voluntarily. They liked to call themselves blood-submissive as if it were a sexual practice on its own – the sex was a nice byproduct, and some of those people were born to be whores, but making it a new trend was something she wished would never happen.

Though she was well aware of the subculture around humans fetishizing vampires, who were all more than ready to give their blood. Humans are so susceptible to overstimulation, especially through strange forces, even the smallest taste of a vampire’s blood could get them high enough up the precipice to push them into an orgasm.

That was the one thing that enticed her the most; the human anatomy, and how responsive they were to stimuli. She knew all about it, and yet she found herself surprised again and again whenever she lay with someone new. 

That evening though, she woke up with a heavy feeling in her stomach. One that wouldn’t go away. 

She entered the kitchen of her shared home to find a stranger sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. Two very obvious holes adorned the young man’s neck. He didn’t look terrified when he saw her, only overly tired and perhaps a little drained. 

She sighed heavily, moving to get herself a drink from the fridge. Not that she had one already sitting there, but he wasn’t hers to take. He had already been labeled with two very sharp fangs that could only belong to one person.

“Eli, you left your dinner in the kitchen!” her voice bounced off the high walls, doing black flips until it finally made the human twitch. “No offense,” she said. “I’m just not a fan of waking up to blood banks sitting at my kitchen counter.”

He opened his mouth, but no words would come out.

She grinned. With her mug in hand, she returned to ask the boy, “Coffee?”

He declined.

“Well, you can’t say I haven’t tried to be hospitable with you.”

Just in time, Eli came around the corner wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. She rolled her eyes. It was one of those guests. 

She met Eli somewhere around 1800 when she spent some time in the deserts of Egypt. He was only a couple of days old then, bitten by a passing vampire with no regard for human life. Eli was lucky to have survived, but with no one to teach him, he went rogue and slaughtered his entire village in a hungry haze. When he came to, the life he once knew had been destroyed beyond repair.

She saved him. Initially, she planned to just pass through, but the word about a vampire on the loose traveled fast, even back then, and so she found herself in Eli’s village soon after, convincing him to join her. She saved his life and therefore, he felt as if he owed her. They never left each other's side again.

Though sometimes, Eli was particularly hard to live with. He was almost like an unruly child, and he left his food lying out most of the time – he tended to forget that wasn’t the only hungry one in the household. 

“Would you stop calling every human I bring home a blood bank?” he said. 

“If you stop letting them stay for breakfast,” she retorted.  

He met her bitter smile with a sour one of his own. “Not everyone feels the need to submit to you as Talon does.”

“Maybe I should make that a rule then. I mean, I am the head of this coven, after all. The least you can do is give me some respect.” She eyed the young man still sitting at the counter, completely hypnotized by the shirtless man prancing around the kitchen. “And your blood whores, too, before you start giving them a sexually transmitted human disease. Or turn them into one of us.”

He scoffed. She patted his shoulder as she passed by him, taking the chance to whisper into his ear, “Would be a shame if I had to drive a stake through one of them when all they signed up for was just a little fun.”

She couldn’t help herself. On her way out, she passed by the helpless human, pulling his head back by the hair to reveal his deliciously long neck, and she dipped her nose to take him in. The blood running through his veins smelled beyond divine. Sweet temptation. She wanted to bury her teeth in his soft skin and suck until he was empty. “Ah, delicious,” she said. “Youngblood, untainted, pure. Excellent pick. I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells.” 

The tips of her sharp fangs scratched at his neck, and she had to force herself to pull away before she could make the mistake of taking Eli’s food off his plate. 

“Get him out of here,” she told him. “Before I make you bathe in holy water for the rest of the week.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

The respect issue was a problem she had to deal with. She wasn’t someone to play around, with except for the bedroom. She was nothing if not playful there, with someone writhing underneath her and begging for the mercy of pleasure, and they would always get what they wanted and deserved. She was considerate like that. But her lovers also never struggled to pay her respect. That seemed to be a family problem only. 

Perhaps she had to assert more dominance over them too, even if it was just for kicks. They would learn soon enough. It wasn’t exactly easy to be a leader, after all. That was common knowledge even amongst the undead.

The vibrations of the phone in her pocket caused her to look up. She checked the text – a piece of technology she was quite fond of, the cell phone – and if she hadn’t been pale enough already, she surely would have turned white as a sheet right about now. 

“What happened?” she asked as she entered the main room. 

Talon nodded his head. “I just got word from my source at the police station,” he told her.

“And?”

“There’s been several suspicious murders in Hell’s Kitchen in the past week.”

“If I wanted a broken record player, I would have gone into the attic. Spit your words out now, Talon, or I will cut out your tongue.”

He flinched, remaining in his position with his head bowed downward. He couldn’t look into her almost blacked-out eyes and be met with disappointment. 

“The victims have been drained of most of their blood, but the injection sites are sloppy, so a lot of the blood got wasted and spilled around the corpses,” he said.

“That’s… graphic.” She rolled her eyes. Chaos only compelled distraction. “But not at all the details I need,” she said.

“Yes, I was just getting to the important part. There’s security footage that shows a foreign party escaping from the site of the murder, and the same person is shown a couple of days later attacking the third victim in a blood-thirsty rage.”

The scenery sounded all too familiar. She tilted her head, intrigued by his report, and moved forward. “What exactly are they saying?”

“The police are blaming it on a new drug epidemic that has the users acting out to the point they would cause a blood bath. The drug supposedly triggers hallucinations that make them unaware of their surroundings and crave violence.”

“You mean blood. The drug is making them crave blood.”

“That’s what they’re thinking, but it’s not in the official report.”

“Yeah because that drug is called vampirism and that’s not exactly an epidemic that should be happening,” she said.

Talon nodded. “Police are issuing a warning,” he told her, “without knowing what they’re warning from. It’s just a couple of kids overdosing and bleeding out in the most ghastly of ways. They’re saying it’s drugs because they don’t understand.”

She grew more and more agitated with every word that slipped past his lips. The pedestal that kept her above the man made her seem much taller than she actually was. She paced the floor. It gave her a sense of superiority that she fought very hard to receive. Her status surpassed those of the people around her. She was older and wiser and perhaps slightly more sophisticated. Her moves were calculated yet often brutal because she learned that you get nothing in life if you’re not willing to spill a little blood, literally and figuratively. To have something or someone threaten her precious freedom like that was an obvious call for action

She halted her movements when he went quiet. “Do they have proof?” she questioned as if she expected him to tell her himself. 

“No,” Talon said. 

“Good. Call a meeting. I need to know who did this. And make sure no one knows beforehand. The last thing I need right now is a fucking vampire uproar.”

“What, you suspect it was one of us?” He had a doubting frown resting on his pale face. 

“While I have faith that you can keep your fangs in your jaw, I need to make sure I’m not misplacing that faith,” she stated. “If I’m wrong in my suspicions, that is good for you. If I’m right and one of you idiots is behind this, I will drive you to hell myself.”

“If you want to have my opinion…”

She smirked, “I really don’t.”

“But if I may?”

“You may not.” Stepping down from the pedestal, she eyed him. “Call the meeting,” she ordered. “In the meantime, I’m going to get myself a bottle of Scotch to drown my sorrows, and then I’m going to steal from the police.” 

Talon yelled after her, “Do you need any help, boss?”

“Yes. You can help yourself to stop crawling up my ass! That would help me a lot, actually. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “I like my men submissive, but your behavior is just getting pathetic now. I’m your boss, not your mother. She’s dead. Deal with it.”

It wasn’t the first time she broke into the police station in Hell’s Kitchen. Crime rates exploded at night, which meant a higher police presence in the building, but at the same time, the cells overflowed with the many criminals they caught. They were always drowning in paperwork, and the crime never seemed to take an end. 

She waited until the commotion in the bullpen caused the officer at the front desk to jump from his seat and escalate the situation. She sped toward the file cabinet, retrieved what she needed, and disappeared just as fast as she had come. 

The officer looked up to find nothing but a strong breeze knocking the documents off his desk. He frowned, choosing to ignore it as the man underneath him writhed against the handcuffs.

Talon said a lot yet nothing at all. She eyed the pictures in the moonlight, the dead eyes staring straight into the security cameras, the man’s body covered in blood as he left a trail of bodies along the Hudson’s riverbed. He downplayed it. This was bad, a monster out of control, someone who shouldn’t even have existed in the first place and yet somehow came to life. There were clear rules. Those rules had been broken in more than one place, shattered on the ground, and then walked over with utmost disrespect. 

And he wasn’t the only one. Every murder was accompanied by one of the herds escaping, later appearing on the scene of another crime. To the untrained eye, it appeared as if these kids were high and just playing around. The blood around the bodies was significant, so the ordinary human might sort it as an overdose after all. An accident. Though none of the things she saw were accidental. 

They killed without a care, without remorse, and at the rate they were going, she was sure they wouldn’t stop anytime soon. 

It wasn’t the first time she had to run against the clock, but it had been a while since she was tossed into such a situation where she had to choose between peace and her most primal nature. She had to appeal to her common sense. She knew better than to let them continue this.

Humans aren’t stupid but often underestimated. At this rate, if they kept going, war seemed inevitable. 

These strangers were hunting on her turf and they turned everything upside down. She wasn’t having it. She had to do something. 

The wind came from the far east and blew through the streets. Many different smells lay in the air that night, but the most prominent hit her nose at the front step of the precinct. 

She tilted her head. She could sense him clearly now. He still smelled the same, his blood a bittersweet taste on her tongue, and she craved more. His heartbeat filled her ears, an elevated sound. She searched for him in the night until the sound of his scruffy, careful voice caught in her ears. 

He stood on the fire escape of the precinct’s second floor. The metal creaked. A door fell shut. He wasn’t alone. 

“Look, man, I’d be happy to help you, especially because we are way in over our heads with this case, but I told you,” the second voice said, “The file is gone.” 

She stared down at the brown folder in her hands. 

“What do you mean gone?” he asked, finally, and her eyes rolled back at the mere sound of him. 

He was everywhere, so goddamn overwhelming, all she wanted was to pull him off that fire escape, into the alley, and turn him into a helpless mess until he was begging her for mercy with tears in his eyes – she could only imagine the soft color behind the red glasses. Were they brown, green, or perhaps even blue? They surely would turn black with lust and then gloss over with exhaustion from the sheer overstimulation when she was done with him. Though she would only stop when the color of his eyes would disappear behind his eyelids as he slipped into a state of unconsciousness, the pleasure causing his mortal body to shut down and submit even more to the power she wielded. 

“Apparently, someone took it.”

“Since when do people steal files from a police station, Sergeant?” 

The man shrugged. “It’s not the first time,” he said. “Happens more often than you might think.”

“What now?” her nameless stranger asked. 

She could only imagine his mouth moving in sync with his gravelly voice, the movement of his Adam’s Apple in his throat as he swallowed, and the way his hands balled to fists at his sides, the beautiful veins protruding and his knuckles turning white. She wondered how those hands would feel somewhere other than a cane or a metal rod. How they would look tracing not the brim of glass but rather a different opening. Playing with wetness until his hands were coated in it the same way he played with the condensation on the glass of his drink. 

“Sergeant, if you want me to help you, I need more than a whim to go on. Do you have anything you could give me?”

“Look, I can’t help you,” the Sergeant said, “but if I did know something, I would suggest scouting out the docks. Ground zero seems to be close to the docks, but I’ve also got word that the rest of Manhattan might be involved too, so I’d be careful if I were you.” 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. We have heightened police presence there since the first suspected overdose, consider that before you make any wrong moves.”

That stopped him. “Suspected?” he questioned.

He was a smart one. Her lip curled into a distant smirk.

“I’m not saying it’s not an overdose, I’m just saying they’re too suspicious to be instantly ruled as such. It’s my opinion, not the official statement, and everyone else here at the station and even the DA’s office agree with the drug epidemic explanation. But I’m not sure it’s right to assume that, not yet, not without evidence,” he said. “We judge people way too quickly these days.”

The stranger chuckled again, his voice darker than when she met him, but the darkness he displayed was something she thoroughly enjoyed. It was enticing, eliciting an excitement she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

“Are you talking about me?” he asked sheepishly, and she imagined him smirking. He seemed more confident in that alley, fully in his element, not at all as submissive as he had been around her. 

She wondered if there were two sides to that man whose name she still hadn’t figured out. 

The Sargeant scoffed, opening the door back into the precinct. Hot air met the cold one outside, causing the air to condensate. She could feel it even from a distance, the changes in temperature, the warmth that felt more wrong than it felt right. 

“Just be careful,” he told him. 

The fire escape squeaked and the sound of his boots disappearing into the distance had her frowning. Blind men don’t jump rooftops and they don’t do parkour. There was more to him than she first suspected. He wasn’t the innocent man he made himself out to be. He had dark secrets that went way below the surface. Her curiosity was spiked. She needed to see him again and she needed to have him now. 

She held the file in the air, watching as the edges started to crinkle and the fire spread from her fingertips, infecting the paper. The folder lit up, filling the night with yellow flames and the ashes of the several documents gone with the wind. 

When the paper fully dissolved, she closed her fist and the last remaining flame vanished. 

As the mysterious stranger made his way over the rooftops of the city, she turned in the opposite direction. Her first instinct was to follow, but there was no fun in chasing him just yet. She wanted to play some before she did that and wanted him to know more about her before she completely destroyed and corrupted him. His beautiful soul would only remain a faint memory. 

The doors into the old, abandoned church swung open. The benches were occupied with exactly five people, two of them Eli and Talon, and the rest of what she liked to call her family, but historians would have called them a coven. An assembled group of vampires qualified as such, as did more than one witch sharing the same ideologies and sharing the same living space. That’s what the two species have in common - they are both widely hated by all kinds of religions except for Satanity. 

Six vampires living in a church sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but the place had been abandoned years ago and there was no official owner, so it was run-down and, most importantly, they didn’t require an invitation to enter. So they made their home there, choosing Hell’s Kitchen as their turf and claiming it as their territory. That had been years ago and the small chapel grew significantly to feel like home since then.

“Cold-blooded murder,” she recited as she walked down the aisle, “Blood baths, two injection sites on the neck, suspicious behavior making humans thirsty for blood, and the police declared it a fucking drug epidemic!” she said. “What century are we living in, people? Is this the seventeenth or the eighteenth? Have we traveled back in time so that these words can be used in the same sentence again, right here in New York? What bad dream am I having right now, because it surely can’t be real?”

She reached the pedestal, stepping up in front of the altar. 

“Seriously, what is happening?” she asked. 

They all stared at her with wide, confused eyes. Those weren’t the faces of people who were about to cause a supernatural war of the undead. They were pretty much caught off guard by her accusations and that gave her hope, considering she knew them pretty well by now to know their tells when they were lying. 

“Please tell me that it’s not one of you currently going on a rampage in Hell’s Kitchen, turning innocent teenagers into ruthless, blood-thirsty vampires, and breaking every rule that was set for us when it comes to hunting humans. Tell me none of you is going on a fucking murder spree!”

Her voice boomed off the high stone walls, almost cracking the colorful windows that adorned the church, pictures displaying passages of the bible and glowing bright red under the moonlight while others shone in blue and green. Though that night, red was truly prominent, and it fell right on her pale face, making everything appear dangerously dark about her. 

One of the younger men raised his hand. 

“William,” she called. 

He stood up, clearing his throat, his hands tangled together in front of his body. He was the shy one, the one she had to pick up because he was starving himself due to his fear of what he had become after he was brutally turned by a woman he thought he could trust. It had been a very dark time back then, early twentieth century, and vampires in the States were still on the loose without a care in the world. There were no rules, only bloodshed, and the covens had body counts higher than the entire population. 

“None of us is going on a murder spree,” he said. 

“Are you saying that just because I want to hear you say it or do you actually mean what you just said?” 

“I, um… you know what, I’m just gonna sit back down.” 

“Wise choice.” She nodded. “So, William’s not a killer. What about the rest of you? Anyone trying to start a rebellion?”

Eli shrugged. His answer was obvious, “It’s not me.”

“I figured. You let your dinner stay for breakfast, and you know, you prefer blood whores. Gives you a sense of superiority, which of course, is not how this works. But anyway…”

The group burst out in laughter and Eli glared at her from across the room. “Very mature,” he said. 

“I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” she said. “Now, anyone else wanna share?”

Another hand rose in the air. “I’m honestly just knitting,” the woman said. As a demonstration, she lifted the half-finished scarf - they didn’t even wear scarves - and threw the ball of wool in the air. “I tried my hand at a very complicated cardigan, but that project failed, so I’m just going back to my roots.”

“Thank you, Helen, but I never doubted you, not even for a second. You’re a total sweetheart.”

“It also wasn’t me,” Talon spoke up. “But you already knew that.”

“Yes, because you are too stupid to cause such mayhem,” she stated plainly. “That leaves only one…” she let her eyes roam over the pews until she found who she was looking for. 

His head hung low. Was he… sleeping?

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can someone please punch Adam in the face?”

Eli stabbed him with his finger. The man shot up, causing the bench to creak. “I’m awake!” he declared. 

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” she answered sourly. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Adam looked around. All eyes were on him. He rubbed his very heavy eyes. “I zoned out after you said bloodbath.” At least his confession was honest. 

She sighed. She was living with a bunch of idiots. She shouldn’t have suspected them. They weren’t capable of the monstrosities that she saw in the police file. 

“Never mind,” she said in exasperation. “You’re all dismissed. Now please, fuck off. I need to be alone so I can fucking shoot myself.” 

She wondered how they even managed to make it this far without getting caught. 

“Talon.”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I need to get back out there. You’re in charge while I’m gone. Make sure that these idiots don’t kill themselves or each other.” 

“Are you sure that is such a good idea? Going out there, I mean? We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” he said. 

“No,” she stated after a slight moment of hesitation, “but I’m the only competent one in this house, so I have to step up.” 

Her version of stepping up was simple. Scout the docks, stake out if necessary, and confront anything she deemed suspicious enough to risk getting caught. She hoped to run into one of the young vampires, at least, so she could make them answer her – the young ones were never bright, always controlled by hunger and the new intensity of their emotions. The anger was the most brutal one. 

It’s like that even for humans – anger blinds, anger poisons, and anger can tear worlds apart and start new generations built on the same ideals. She witnessed anger and greed topple empires that had once been strong and flourished. There is no limit to what anger can make a person do. And vampires, like any other enhanced species, experience most emotions ten times deeper and worse than the ordinary human being. 

She felt that effect even after years of being trapped in the same body, in the same state she was left in back then, and especially as she stood on the roof of the warehouse by the docks, overseeing the Hudson and the city that laid on the other side of the shore. She learned how to control and live with her anger. She learned how to survive. Though there were moments when even the highest form of self-control failed and she was stranded with the blade of a hot knife stuck in her sternum, digging further to tear apart her cold, dead heart. 

The hunger was the worst part. It had the ability to cloud her mind completely and dictate her every behavior with the purpose to stave that hunger, which was a near-impossibility. There was no satisfying a hunger that had been there for centuries, that not even pints of blood could satisfy. In the years she lived, she learned how to live with it, but always going hungry was also no real way to live. It was awful, constant torture, and with every passing century, she grew more tired of the life she was forced to live. 

In the distance, the wood creaked. One of the boats on the harbor displayed movements in its belly. The light only faintly fell on the source of the noise. A figure emerged behind the barrels stocked on the pier, heading straight for the oblivious fisherman who seemed to have stayed around to have a celebratory beer after bringing home quite a large catch of fish. She could smell them across the docks, already tied in bags to take home, but the victor was still inhabiting his boat. Humans have always been particularly obsessed with the art of fishing; it had once been their largest source of food income and fish is still pretty high up on the list of shippable goods. Though there was nothing worse to her nose than the smell of several fish perched together in one place. The stench was astronomical. 

A young vampire was far more sensitive, though once hungry, there was nothing but blood on their minds and so none of them would run at the smallest hint of fish in the air, let alone the fear of getting caught. They didn’t have that kind of perception, not yet at least, because this particular behavior was taught. Primal nature dictated them to be monsters and without the proper training, the hunger would control them instead of them gaining control over the real monster – the insatiable thirst. Self-control is one of the hardest traits to gain, but it goes a long way, especially for creatures of the night who were born to be the opposite of compliant and self-aware. 

If you want to live amongst an emancipated species, you have to learn how to conform to their rules and compromise, if necessary. You have to be willing to change your true nature to fit in and become something more than what history made of you. All of it comes back down to self-control. Without self-control, there can be no rules and without rules, society is doomed to collapse. Rules are what make a society habitable. 

If there was one thing all young vampires had in common it was their lack of stealth. The young boy she had heard lurking behind the barrels across from the fisherman’s boat only checked the corner to his right, his eyes bright red as the moonlight fell on his blacked-out irises. 

She cocked her head to the side. Someone trying to preserve themselves would have gone about this much differently. He stopped tip-toeing when he caught her scent in the air, slowly turning in her direction, and the way he looked straight at her reminded her of a frightened deer or a child caught in the act of stealing something. He was stealing, it just wasn’t something so easily explained. What he was stealing and risking went beyond what the human mind was capable of comprehending, let alone the brain of a young vampire that had absolutely no rational thoughts left behind. 

He froze dead in his tracks and she sighed, almost like a condescending mother trying to teach her disobedient son a valuable lesson.

“I see what you’re doing,” she stated.

The boy licked his lips, revealing parts of his very sharp fangs. Another thing about the young ones – they didn’t know how to mask. One look at them and your first thought would be a vampire. Red eyes, protruding veins around the sockets, pale, clammy skin, and strength and speed they couldn’t control yet. Stealth was little to non existent, as was their sense of self-preservation and control. They were like unruly babies turning into toddlers overnight, the Devil on their shoulders whispering sweet sins into their ears and causing them to make the worst decisions. Right or wrong didn’t exist in their world. They knew what they wanted and they would try everything to get it, rules be damned. 

Even though they all started out like this, not many chose to stay that way anymore. Once you learn how to live by the rules, it’s not that hard, and she grew to love the routine. 

Without someone to teach them, young vampires could turn into everyone’s worst nightmare, and then everything she had worked so hard toward for centuries would have been for nothing. 

“Fair warning,” she said, “Don’t.” 

He bared his teeth. 

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. Not. What’s your name, kid?”

He looked no day over seventeen, at best. His mother was probably worried sick. Little did she know that her worst fear, her son dying, had come true but in a far worse sense than she could ever imagine. Who he was now had nothing to do with the boy he used to be. The young vampire staring back into her eyes dark and empty had nothing left inside of him but insatiable hunger. His soul was clouded by the demon inside of him and chances were that it would never fully recover from the monstrosities he committed and would still commit. 

She couldn’t stop him, she knew that. If she took him with her, whoever was responsible for the sudden spike in bloodless corpses would only create more of him, and take more teenagers from their parents until they got what they wanted. She needed to know what that was so she could stop the war that was looming on the horizon. She couldn’t have an apocalypse, not when her life was going semi-normal for a change. She quite liked New York, she wasn’t done yet. 

“Who did this to you?” she asked again. 

“Leave,” he growled. 

“You see, I can’t do that. I want to, believe me, but I can’t. You’re too young, too inexperienced, so I’m trying to tell you this as easy as possible. What you’re doing right now is breaking all sorts of rules. You’re hunting on our turf,” she said. “My turf. My coven and I live here now. If you continue causing mayhem and destruction and turning innocent people into vampires, you’re breaking a truce that is far older than you, your parents, and great-great grandparents together. There is a set of rules for a reason…”

“You need to leave,” the boy repeated.

She ignored him. “This truce,” she continued, “was put in place over a century ago to assure that vampires and humans can live together in peace. Covens are not supposed to turn innocent people into vampires, let alone leave them without someone to teach them the ropes. A vampire out of control poses a danger to all species and if you continue what you’re doing, your actions will lead to war.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps that’s what you want. Is that it? Do you want us to be at war again?” 

He smirked. 

“You weren’t there the last time. It was ugly. That’s why there are rules, right?” She motioned as if explaining the way the world worked to a toddler. “To prevent such unnecessary bloodshed from happening again. To prevent us from killing each other,” she explained. “That’s what those rules are for, okay? Prevention, not causation. You’re supposed to stick to the rules to prevent a war that would destroy more than it would fix, and world domination doesn’t happen just because you say ‘fuck it!’ And shine a dangerous light on all vampires in the process. We’re not all alike. Every coven knows that,” she said. “Whoever made you is only using you to get ahead. In other words, you’re fucked and doomed to get slaughtered in the end. Either by your own kind, a war, or maybe even one of the very ancient vampire hunters that are only waiting for a chance to get back at us.”

Talking to him was futile. He didn’t follow a word she said and even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood. Young vampires were so stupid, naïve, useless and a nuisance. To think they all started out this way grossed her out, even though she made saving the lost causes of the world her life’s work. 

Her logic was twisted and more often than not illogical, but she was wise and considered herself above average in intelligence, simply because she had been around for quite a while. She saw empires rise and fall. She stared into the darkest pits of existence and still managed to come back from the abyss. Her life had been a series of doors in her face, which led to several life lessons being taught over the course of centuries. She was no angel, but she wasn’t stupid and she had one job: make sure the truce would remain intact. And she would do just that, even if she had to eliminate that young boy in order to do so.

He didn’t say anything for quite a while. “Get out of my way,” he growled. Of course, he would settle on something as dramatically pathetic as this catchphrase. “I’m starving and I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you keep me from my meal.” 

“Ouch,” she cocked an eyebrow, “You really bruise my ego, thinking you can get through me without getting hurt yourself. I’d suggest you think about your actions,” she said, “but I know that I’m practically talking to a wall right now, so thinking isn’t an option. You’re incapable of rational thought.”

Fear was the last thing that came to her mind when he showed off his teeth again.

“Listen, I just want to know who’s behind this. Who’s leading your coven, kid?”

“Fuck you!” he spat.

“Hey now, no need to get vulgar. I asked you a normal question. Who’s behind this and is there a chance I might get to have a conversation with the one in charge? Tell me and I will gladly point you in the direction of a different hunting ground,” she said. 

The boy nodded toward the boat. “I want that one. He’s mine. Don’t even try to stop me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t have him.”

“I’m going to have him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Stop disagreeing with everything I’m saying!”

She shrugged. “Can’t help that you’re wrong all the time. I’ve never learned how to shut up. It’s genetic; centuries of untreated trauma are at fault here, and of course, your general wrongness plays a big part in my need to disagree with your embarrassing hypotheticals.”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did. You know, of course, pride always goes before the fall. Such a human trait to have; multiply it by a thousand, where does that leave you? Certainly not more sophisticated than me, someone with hundreds of years of experience. You need to be careful, young vampires like you are at an even higher risk to be discovered and murdered before you even get the chance to learn what you were given with this transition.” 

Finally, he launched at her. She sped away, gone in a matter of a second, and appeared a few feet behind him, heaving a heavy sigh. “You kids are all the same,” she declared, looking into his very distraught eyes. He couldn’t believe she had switched that fast. “Fast but reckless and extremely easy to trick.”

A moment later, he stood in her spot and she was gone again, crossing her arms behind her back.

“You done?” she asked. His attempts to attack her only made her laugh, “Oh, so terrifying.”

She had him right where she wanted him, so agitated that he spiraled out of control, no longer aware of where he was going or what he was doing. She watched him dance for a bit. By now, he surely must have realized he wasn’t going to win. But the pride was stronger and he kept going, trying to get to her in all kinds of ways, though never succeeding. 

“I feel bad for you. What would your mother say if she saw you like this?”

He stopped. His left eye twitched. She saw the wheels on his head turning and she thought, finally, I got him. 

What did she say? Pride goes before the fall.

She caught the billy club that soared through the air in their direction only a few inches from the boy’s face. Her lips pursed and she stared at the red object, feeling the heavy metal between her fingers and the small ripples in the material. 

When she turned her attention back to the target, the boy was gone. He had sped away, using the moment of distraction to run. She couldn’t sense him anywhere; he must have escaped the docks completely, not even staying close to the Hudson. He was on his way home. The fisherman was safe and she had diverted quite the disaster, but she still deemed the interruption rude, including the attempt to impale that poor boy with the billy club. She had thought about it, but she would have never gone through with it. Whoever the weapon belonged to had to have been close by. 

Her night just kept getting better and better. That was her assessment, at least, until she heard his heartbeat again. The scent of him brushed the hairs in her nose and she took a whiff, feeling his presence so close in the air, she stopped to let the sensation wash over her. The fire inside of her belly ignited once again, the excitement tickling her cold skin and leaving nothing but lust and hunger to rummage through her veins. 

Footsteps thudded against the asphalt, stones crunching under his weight. They were slightly wet from the previous rain, causing a slight slip. 

She lowered her hand with the billy club, turning to look over her shoulder at the supposed blind man in a suit. She had seen that get-up before in the papers when he first showed his masked face in Hell’s Kitchen. She never thought much of it since he had never posed a problem before. 

The tables had officially turned.

Her lips parted to chuckle. “This is awkward,” she said. In the distance, the waves of the Hudson crashed into the riverbanks. It was colder than usual with a breeze in her hair that caused the water to go wild. 

She fiddled with the red billy club, smirking, “Does this belong to you?” 

“Who are you?” his voice sounded significantly lower than the night she first met him at that godforsaken gala. 

To think she didn’t want to go in the first place; she would have never met him if she hadn’t let Talon convince her that she was supposed to show her face. A political move, he called it, to assert her dominance, which she did, but not in the areas that mattered. 

“What are you doing in my city?”

She pouted. “So many questions.”

“Who was that boy you were just talking to? Where did he go?”

“What happened to hello, how are you? What’s your name?” She retorted. “Take a girl out for a drink first, would you? Back then men used to still be gentlemen.”

His chuckle was rather dark, a sound that made her shiver and imagine what it would sound like to reduce him to whimpers instead. The man was a brat, no doubt, not easy to force into submission, but she had cracked worse nuts. Surrendering wasn’t her forte, but she could make it everyone else’s.

“I’m not here to play games,” he told her.

“But I am,” she said. 

“What do you want?”

“As far as I can recall, I made that pretty clear when we first met.”

“When we- I don’t know you,” he lied and she realized how bad he was at it for a lawyer. 

She licked her lips, the fangs threatening to come out. She was starving. “I quite like an oblivious man. Makes things so much more exciting.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for small talk. There have been several suspicious murders around this part of New York and you’re currently my only connection, so you better talk before I make you.” 

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “what does making me entail?” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He headed straight ahead, determined to grab her, and she watched with an amused crinkle in her eyes. The downward tilt of his lips was truly something to laugh over. 

She allowed him to push her against the wall behind them. His force was surprising – those arms didn’t just look scrumptious, they actually carried a lot of strength for a human. 

The stranger bared his teeth and she smirked, eyeing his focused expression. He tried to look intimidating but failed miserably. One of his hands braced against the cement beside her head and the other landed around her neck, a threatening motion to assert dominance. They were all so predictable and foolish enough to think that a woman like her couldn’t fight back.

Everywhere she went, she was underestimated. If only everyone knew her true nature, they wouldn’t be so reckless as to push her into corners over and over again. Or in this case, against cement walls on the docks in the middle of the night, right in the middle of her hunting ground with not another human soul close enough to hear him scream. And water is knowingly a great way to dispose of a dead body.

He squeezed tighter and she unclenched her jaw, wriggling out of his grasp in the process. “You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?” she asked. 

“Answer my question,” he bit back.

“If you answer mine first.”

“This isn’t a game. Lives are at stake here! Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you are,” he said, “but if I find out that you had anything to do with these innocent kids getting slaughtered or know something about this new drug everyone is talking about, I will find you and I will destroy you.”

“You know, if it weren’t for the way you smell, I wouldn’t have recognized you, all confident in your little devil’s costume,” she purred.

Her finger slid up the leather of his suit, brushing over his tensing abs hiding behind the protective gear and she sucked in a sharp breath at the illusion she received.

“All of this tension and I still don’t know your name.”

He caught her hand and pinned it over her head. She squealed. He was full of surprises, and it only turned her on more. She wanted to bite him, really bite him, and suck on his pulse until he was crying her name and praying for God to save him, but the pleasure would only drive him further to hell and God wouldn’t be coming. She wanted him to writhe under her touch, taste him and make him come undone over and over again and once he believed she was done with him, she would start her torture anew, right from the beginning, pushing him from the precipice just far enough so she could catch him, bring him back to the top and then do the same thing in repetition all over again.

He roamed her face aimlessly, as it seemed, but barely visible behind the mask. “How?” he growled.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” She chuckled. “It’s unfortunate that we had to meet again like this, but…” In an instant, she had them flipped around, her arms pinning him to the wall instead of herself and her strength remained unmatched. He could struggle, it was of no use. She had the upper hand.

Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke, far too close for comfort, “You smell absolutely divine. It’d be a shame to waste all that sweet, sweet blood for a second time,” she said.

He couldn’t move. Sharp nails raked through his hair and over his scalp, tugging his head to the side until his throat was completely bare to her, naked, exposed. His aorta pulsated wildly under his skin. She could see it bulge with every beat of his heart. That strong, masculine heart, stronger than anything she had heard or felt before.

She tasted the sweat on his skin and the salt of threatening tears in the air. If he was turned on or scared, she wasn’t sure. The lines between fear, pain, and pleasure blurred. It was all the same to her, anyway. Getting close to her would most certainly draw everyone under her spell at some point, no matter the sex or gender, and all the heads would continue turning to her whenever her presence entered a room full of lively human beings. Only then her pheromones could work their wonders.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen struggled against her grasp but to no avail. He was powerless, just how she liked him, how she wanted and craved him.

She licked a long stripe over his pulse point. “I want to taste you so badly,” she whispered. “I want nothing more than to dig my teeth into your pretty little throat and suck you dry, and then I want to get on my knees and eat your cum so I can feel it mix with the essence of what your heart has to give, and then you’d be mine. I’d own you. You’d be completely at my mercy, you’d be bound to me and it would feel so fucking good. It would feel so fucking good for the both of us.”

Her fangs began to scratch the surface, enough to make him feel it but not nearly enough to break the skin. She tasted the salt of his sweat even clearer now, wondering how much deeper she had to go to finally reach the source of the sweetness that surrounded him.

“Don’t you want that?” Her hand joined the words slipping from her silver tongue and wrapping around him like a poisonous snake. “Don’t you want to let me corrupt you, to bite you, to eat you until all you can feel is the pure pleasure of having me all over you? My lips, my tongue, my teeth, my body on yours everywhere, all the fucking time… oh, that would be such an orgasmic sight, and the pleasure you’d be feeling, I can’t even describe it. You won’t know until you at least try and believe me, you should. Isn’t that something you want, darling? Doesn’t your body crave to be caressed and receive undivided attention from someone who knows how to make you feel good?”

He sounded small, fragile, and utterly broken when he next spoke, and she hadn’t even started yet. “What are you doing to me?” he asked. The heat of his breath mixed with the cold night air. “What are you?”

She chuckled. “The better question is, what am I not?” The tip of her tongue moved from his neck to his cheek until she reached the corner of his luscious lips. Her nose dug into his cheekbone. “Fuck,” she said. “The things I want to do to you are far from innocent.”

But so fucking good. 

Even with fear holding the reins to his body, he melted into her touch. He turned into a puddle of melted chocolate right at her feet. She could have asked anything of him, he would have done so just for the sake of pleasing her. But she wanted him to do it voluntarily not because the smell of her pheromones managed to drive any man into a state of co-dependency. 

She wanted him to want her for the sake of wanting her. Like this, she would only compel him to do things he would never choose to do out of his own free will, and while the thought of having him right there on the docks was exciting and had her cunt squeezing around thin air, already wet and wanting, the only treacherous thing about her that was entirely defenseless and could be forced into submission with just a simple flick of the tongue over plump, rosy lips. He had her on the cloud of dangerous euphoria in seconds, already stumbling on the edge and about ready to slip, lose herself, and lose control only to have him, finally, in all the ways she pleased and all the ways that would make him feel good. 

She could give him anything he had ever wanted, give him a time that not a single human could give him, and make him come undone inside and outside so many times, he would pass out from the pure pleasure. But he wouldn’t regret it. He would go out this as the winner, fucked out and blissful and perhaps a little addicted to the taste of her as well – she was sure she would be addicted to him as well. She almost already was, just from the scent of his blood and the way his body shivered at the slightest touch. He was so responsive, so human, yet stronger and more unique than anyone else could ever be. He was the one thing she wanted and she was ready to take it as soon as he wanted it, too. 

She was used to taking what she wanted however she wanted and screwing the consequences, quite literally, but not with him. With him, the need bubbling up deep inside of her belly was different. It wasn’t just a hunger for blood or a hunger for sex and pleasurable violence, he caused much more than that within her already conflicted soul, and as enticing as that was, the connection confused her. There was a reason she didn’t let anyone close, using sex as a mere pastime activity to get the edge off – she couldn’t toy with him because chances were she would reduce his survival chances to zero. 

Allowing a human like him close would only cause pain in the long run, and she’d been through enough of that for several lifetimes. And that wasn’t even an overstatement. 

Her lips brushed over his momentarily before she forced herself to pull away, widening the distance between them. 

The poor man slumped against the wall, his world rotating. He took it much better than most people, but the sweet taste of his fear in the air reminded her that he was just human, after all. A curious, enticing, and mysterious human, but a human being nonetheless.

Humans serve only one purpose for vampires like animals serve a purpose to humans – predators hunt their victims to feast, sustain themselves and survive. Humans are essentially animals and vampires used to be humans turned into hunters, predators, and dangerous perverts who craved blood to survive while at the same time using it for twisted, sexual purposes that had God locking the gates of heaven to anyone who even dared to fantasize about it. There is no ancestor ready to turn around in their grave because vampires were born from lust and hunger, and the first vampires had been carnal creatures as well, ready to go at it like animals without a single brain cell at their disposal.

Vampires weren’t like that anymore. Sex still played a huge role in their existence, but their main purpose was to fit in. They wanted a peaceful life. Taking everything they wanted was no longer possible, their chances were limited, but at least they didn’t have to fear imminent death anymore. Not ever since the truce was first established, anyway. 

If those young vampires continued killing and turning innocent children without mercy, and their coven even supported their decisions, the peace would have been short-lived. She could already see it swindling with every passing second, though fear was not something she wanted to concern herself with, not yet. Her life had more important things to offer before she rang the warning bells on all the vampires she knew, therefore causing a certain commotion that would send the gravestones rolling. Not yet, she decided, but if they kept going at this rate, certainly very soon. 

“Go,” she growled into the night. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from the Hudson until further notice. You can never know what blood-thirsty and murderous monsters might lurk in the dark around here,” she said. 

He didn’t move. 

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, his voice remaining steady. 

She frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, you don’t scare me. Manipulate me all you want, this isn’t the first time an otherwise scary woman fails to put me under her spell. But,” he smirked, “don’t take it personally. I’m sure you look pretty scary.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, her eyes switching from their natural color to a glossy black. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?”

The red nails adorning her fingers grew sharper and in size. If only he could have regained his eyesight, he surely would have changed his mind. Her skin turned even whiter, the bags under her eyes sinking deep into her skull, replaced instead by thick, purple veins that transported the venom from the core of her existence into them. She was chaos, an abomination, humanity’s biggest threat – not scary was a description she wouldn’t accept.

No matter how blind he was, he had to follow the natural order of things like everyone else. He was supposed to be afraid of her. If he couldn’t find it in himself to show her, all of her games would inevitably lose their fun factor. And her ego would suffer the most. 

Open an ancient book about demons and a picture like that might stare back at you. 

“It takes a lot more than dark magic to scare the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” he told her.

It was cute. Remarkable, really. She laughed at his attempt to make himself feel better, and partly because she was starting to grow upset with him.

“Somehow, being infuriated with you only makes you so much more attractive to me,” she said. 

“You still don’t scare me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Five seconds. The heartbeat of the fisherman rang loudly in her ear. She was starving, her last meal far too long in the past. He wriggled in her grasp, crying, begging for her to let him go, to have mercy on him and, “Oh, God, your face- what happened to your face? Are those- are those fangs? Please, I have a family!” 

Her laugh reverberated in her chest. The man stiffened when she tore at his hair to position his head sideways, his neck in perfect reach for her mouth. She looked at the man in the suit before her, his jaw clenched, and he had his billy clubs at the ready. They weren't going to hurt her, he knew that. She would catch them with ease. He could only stand by and pretend he wasn’t scared even though he had never been more in sync with the feeling. They were a package deal when it came to her. 

“Don’t worry,” she told the poor fisherman, “You’ll see your family again, and you won’t even have to remember a thing.” 

Her mouth opened.

“Don’t,” Daredevil threatened – yes, it was a threat, not even a warning – from the other side of her, and she saw the conflict dance clearly over the revealed lower part of his face. “You don’t have to hurt him,” he said. “The man’s innocent.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

“He has a family.”

“I know. My ears are quite impeccable, can you believe that?”

“How about you think this through before you act? There’s a lot of ways you can go about spiting me, but pulling an innocent bystander into this is not fair. Come on, you said you wanted me, so take me.” 

As lucrative as that sounded, she had a different plan. 

She hummed, “No.”

“Why? Are you scared? Perhaps you’re not such a bad person after all. Is that it? You want me to be afraid of you, so you’re trying to hurt that man until I cave? Well, I won’t, but I’m offering myself to you instead of him, so don’t try so hard. Just take me. Take your shot.”

Oh, he sounded so amused – time to wipe that smirk off his beautiful face. 

“Ancient advice,” she ignored everything else he had said, “Don’t be a martyr,” she said and her lips rained down on the fisherman’s throat in a fiery passion. “History hates martyrs.”

“No, history only consists of martyrs.”

“The official version. The truth lies much deeper than your little human brain could ever explore.”

Daredevil was right about one thing; the man was innocent. No matter how she turned it, there was nothing wrong with him, so death would have been unnecessary punishment.

She wasn’t going to kill him just to spite the man she craved to actually have a taste of. She was just going to take a sip, still a quarter of her hunger and then move on, heal the man’s wounds and make him forget this ever happened. He would be disoriented, but he would be fine. 

Humans are the most susceptible to manipulation.

“Don’t be afraid,” she told the fisherman, “I’m just going to have a little taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Her teeth dug into his aorta and she sucked, tasting the blood that squirted into her mouth and all over her face in thick stripes. He tasted nothing like the feast standing right across from her, but it didn’t matter. Her mind shut off. The hunger moved to the forefront and at that moment, everything else stopped existing. It was just her and the life of this particular human in her hands, the taste of his blood exploding on her tongue and her stomach churning with the endless hunger that only got fueled with the small taste. She wanted more, needed it, but she knew better than to let the desperation overpower her. 

Passed out and short of a few pints of blood, the fisherman fell to the ground. She licked her lips. He was everywhere, even stuck on her clothes and traces of him had gotten tangled in her hair. He was a bleeder, that much was sure, and if she hadn’t licked over his neck to seal the wound, he surely would have bled out. 

Poor thing, but sentiment was useless in a case like this. He would make it. No use crying over a blood bag, she was taught. Humans lived to feed them. It was their purpose and she had no reason to feel bad for wanting to be full for a change, not go to bed hungry because she wouldn’t dare touch someone that wasn’t already in a plastic bag. She deserved this. 

And Daredevil cowered in fear at the sounds he was met with. Her night had turned from a total shit show into the sight of victory. 

She stepped forward and he flinched away, finally. “You wanted to know what I am. This is it!” she declared. “I’m the monster parents warn their children about and I’m the one thing every church fears because I happen to stand against everything religion stands for.”

“Dear God,” he breathed out.

“God can’t help me now,” she said. Her eyes moved to the sky, watching the stars disappear behind a thick cloud of smog and thousands of lights from the city center. “He stopped doing that the second I died. He’s dead to me now. He cannot be found. There is no God, there is only hunger and I’m probably the most merciful of them all, so I’d run if I were you. I’d run before another one of those demons God gave up on saving, jumps out of the dark and decides to suck the life from your pretty little body. I’d run,” she said, “because there is not a millisecond that goes by in which I do not want to tear your neck open and drink your blood while I also desperately want to suck your dick between my lips and do the same to those veins too, and the longer you stay the more my self-control starts to fade into the thin smoke that comes out of your mouth whenever you speak.”

He shivered and the color faded from his skin, blood pooling in his veins at twice the amount and the smell almost knocked her off her already hazy feet from the first course. 

More, her body screamed, but she held back. She learned how to hold back. No one had to die tonight.

“Run now or I’m cutting this short, and then Hell’s Kitchen will no longer have a Daredevil to protect them from the likes of me. They won’t even get the chance to mourn because it’d be impossible for me to drop your body in the Hudson after getting a taste of your blood.” 

He turned around, finally getting the hint to run. He jumped the wall up to the rooftop too gracefully for a blind man. She watched, her bloody lips moving into a smile. 

“Fear is healthy,” he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t let your pride cloud that healthy feeling from manifesting. And find me,” she said, “when you’re ready to talk without underestimating me.”

By the time she looked back up, Daredevil was gone with the wind, but his scent still lingered long after he had left and she would take it to bed with her where the most unholy of things would happen to the sound of a name she didn’t even know. 

She should have fucked him when she had the chance.

[briars-patch]

Falling from Grace

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, mommy kink, daddy kink, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms (f), oral (f receiving), mean!Matt, begging!Matt, improper use of religious themes, very minor descriptions of injury and blood (he's Daredevil, what were you expecting)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader

Summary: After Matt stumbles through your window at two in the morning, you try to patch him up, but Matt has other plans.

Author's Note: this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is helpful and encouraged, just don't be a dick about it. Thanks, hopefully you enjoy <3

Word count: 2930

Loving Matt Murdock was a challenge, to say the least. It wasn't the loving him part that was hard, just the part where he tumbled through your window, bloody and beaten, at two in the morning.

Which was just the occasion. You'd been asleep, wrapped up in one of his t-shirts, when you were woken by a loud crash. Switching on the lamp beside your bed, you saw your boyfriend sprawled on the flood, panting.

"Jesus Christ, Matt!" you shouted, rushing to him and lifting him the best you could.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he mumbled, leaning into you heavily as he pulled off his mask. He attempted to capture your lips in a kiss, but you were having none of that.

"Matt, you're bleeding," you said, gently pushing him to sit on your bed.

You went to walk away, but Matt had other plans, capturing your waist in his toned arms. "I'm fine, Y/N," he said, his voice soft, like the light brushes of his fingertips on your thighs.

Fighting back a small moan, you push his hands off your body and into his lap. "No. Not until I get you cleaned up," you said firmly, trying to ignore the small pout on his face.

Not giving into him any time Matt wanted something was hard for you, but you managed.

Walking to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit, you could hear Matt following behind you.

You couldn't help but sigh playfully. "You're very touchy feely tonight," you teased, leading him into the kitchen.

Sitting heavily in one of the chairs, Matt tilted his head up to you. "I can't help it.."

His hands were roaming whatever exposed skin they could reach, distracting you from your intentions of patching him up.

"Hey, stop that," you scolded playfully, gently removing his hands from your body. "I need to assess the amount of damage we've got tonight."

While you pulled off the layers of suit he wore, until he was sitting in just a pair of black boxers, Matt insistently groped at whatever parts of you he could get his hands on.

"Y/N, please... I need you," he whined softly.

You let out a soft gasp as you saw the cuts and bruises riddling his perfect body. You knew they'd be there, but everytime you were a little surprised.

"No, Matthew, you need a doctor.. And maybe a few prayers," you muttered under your breath, beginning the process of cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

"No. Prayers, maybe. But only if they fall from your lips," Matt whispered as he pulled you close, squeezing around your waist gently.

You couldn't help but be a little glad that he wasn't able to see the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Matt, baby, please. Let me get you cleaned up at least.."

"Y/N, please!"

This time was different. This time, the desperation in his voice wasn't just out of desire. He was in pain, and the only way he could fix it was you.

Swallowing thickly and finishing up on the larger cuts, you gently cup his cheeks.

"What do you need me to do for you, Matthew?" Your voice was soft and gentle, but full of authority. Watching the affect it had on him always amused you.

Matt shivered in pleasure, his breath shuddering ever so slightly as he realized you were giving him what he wanted.

"Please mommy, please. Let me worship you. Let me wash away my sins with the sound of your beautiful cries. Baptise me between your thighs. Let your name be a prayer from my lips. Please, I need you. God, I need you. I'm yours... please take me," he begged softly, his firm hands gently gripping your thighs.

Looking down into those gorgeous, unseeing eyes, you felt yourself completely crumble. It pained you, knowing he was hurting so much, but God did you live for when he begged for you.

"Alright, love. I'm yours. Do whatever you please," you whispered, running your fingers gently through his dark hair, giving a small tug.

Matt let out a soft moan before grinning and practically pouncing on you, pinning you against the kitchen table. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he whispered, kissing your neck as he quickly pulled your panties down, laying you bare before him like a full course meal. Due to his impatience, they ripped, but you couldn't find it in you to care, especially when he buried his head between your thighs.

You gasped softly and moaned, feeling his tongue massage your clit. Matt was the only man you'd ever slept with who could eat you out and make it good.

You were quickly pulled from your thoughts when Matt slowly pushed two fingers into your soaked pussy. You hadn't noticed how wet you were until you heard Matt chuckle.

"Damn, angel, you're practically dripping down my arm," he whispered gruffly against your clit, his fingers still working deep inside you.

You, however, were too distracted to care about his teasing. Already a moaning mess, you kept bucking your hips up to try and grind against his face or hand.

Matt quickly put a stop to that, using his free hand to pin your hips to the table. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from inside you, chuckling softly at the little whine you couldn't hold back.

Just before you could really start complaining, though, Matt got back to work, plunging his tongue deep into you.

"Fuck, Matt!" you cried out, unable to stop yourself from squeezing his head tightly between your legs.

Slightly embarrassed by this fact, you tried to open your legs again for him, but Matt just crushed your thighs around his head again, a low growl escaping his throat.

"M-matt, please... you'll suffocate," you whispered, voice shaking from being flustered.

Prying himself away from you for only a moment, Matt gave you that shit-eating grin of his. "Well, I'll say, that's one hell of a way to die," he laughed before diving back in, moaning softly at your cries of his name.

"Matt.." you whined softly, tugging at his hair gently. "Matt.. o-oh God. I'm-"

Just as you were about to cum, he pulled away from you, licking his lips. Giving you a devilish grin, Matt started kissing up your body.

Small groans of pleasure and frustration escaped you're lips as you're hands tightened their grip on his hair. "Matthew Murdock, I swear to God, you keep pullin' that shit and teasin' me, I'm gonna do something you won't like."

Matt pouted playfully, barely brushing his lips against yours. "Aw, but Y/N, I thought maybe you'd want a little more than just my tongue," he whispered, grinding against your thigh slowly.

You let out a soft, surprised moan, turning your reddening face away from his. "You're a demon, Murdock, y'know that?" you muttered softly.

Matt snickered softly, leaving a trail of kisses down your exposed neck. "They don't call me the devil of Hell's Kitchen for nothin', angel.."

Hearing those teasing words in his intoxicating voice drove you wild, and you knew he knew.

"How cute. My sweet, perfect little angel is all worked up just for me.." he teased, gently running his hands down your thighs.

"No I'm not," you replied meekly, to entranced with watching those perfect hands of his.

Matt stopped his movements, chuckling softly at your miniscule whimper. "What's the matter, angel? If you aren't so worked up for me, why whimper when I stop such a simple thing?"

You groaned, "Matt, stop being a tease and fuck me already!"

His face darkening and a low growl emitting from his chest, Matt's grip on your thighs tightened. "Now, is that how we ask for things, angel?"

"N-no," you stuttered out, face flushing as you looked up at him. He truly had the face of an angel, although he was anything but.

"Matt, ple-"

"Ah-ah, angel. That's not what you call me," Matt interrupted with a teasing smirk.

Your cheeks flushed an even darker shade of pink, avoiding his gaze. "Sir..?"

"Atta girl," Matt chuckled darkly, kissing up your neck agonizingly slow. "Now, what is it my angel wants from me?"

"Please.. please fuck me, sir.." you beg with a soft whimper, turning your head to look up at his face.

Matt let out a soft groan, smirking down at you. "How cute. My little angel wants to be fucked? Who'd think such a precious little angel would want such a dirty thing."

His words were teasing and even a little mean, but it set your body on fire like the devil himself.

Part of you wondered if the man between your thighs really was Lucifer. He was beautiful enough to he a fallen angel. Broken enough to be the king of hell.

You were broken out of your thoughts with a sharp slap to your thigh, crying  out his name.

"What was that for?" you pouted, tracing the scars along his arms.

"You weren't paying me any attention," Matt responded with a pout of his own, burying his face in the side of your neck. He inhaled your scent, which he could only describe as intoxicating. A mix of vanilla and cinnamon, with a heady aroma that he could only recognize as you.

"I'm sorry, Matty.. I was just thinking about how perfect you are," you hummed, running your fingers through his dark locks.

You could feel the smile stretch across his face as he held you a little tighter. "M'not perfect. That's all you, angel.." he mumbled against your skin.

The feeling of his hot breath and his lips brushing against your skin made you shiver slightly.

This didn't go unnoticed by Matt, of course. He was so in tune with everything about you, he knew exactly what to do to get you going.

Pulling his face away from your neck, Matt kissed your jaw and cheek. "You're still so needy, aren't you?" he teased.

You didn't dare point out that he was the one begging for you earlier. Besides, he was right. He'd gotten you worked up, and now you were desperate for him.

Matt chuckled softly, his hands ghosting across your body, lingering on your chest.

He kissed you deeply, his fingers gently rolling across your hardened nipples.

You gasped softly against his lips, a low moan erupting from your throat, only to be swallowed by Matt's greedy tongue being shoved into your mouth.

Tangling your tongues together and trying to fight for dominance, you ultimately lost.

Matt pulled away for breath, his chest heaving slightly. He couldn't contain himself any longer, gripping your thighs gently. "Ready, angel?" he asked, slipping his boxers off.

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching when he asked.

Matt kissed you gently and lovingly, slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.

A low, keening moan leaves your throat when you feel the burning stretch of his cock filling you up.

"M-matty.." you whined, fingers tangled in his dark hair, giving a harsh tug.

Matt moaned in your ear, giving a slow, shallow thrust as he held you gently in his strong arms.

"More.. move faster, please.." you whispered in his ear, giving his hair another tug.

Matt groaned and chuckled darkly, giving a hard thrust. "So fucking needy, angel. God, I love you.." he whispered hoarsely.

Dimly, you could hear the table scraping against the floor. You couldn't bring yourself to care though, not when Matt was making you feel so good.

Finding a steady rhythm, Matt thrust hard and fast into you. The sounds of your moans and cries of his name were driving him absolutely insane.

It didn't take long for that familiar knot to build in your core. "Matt!" you cried out, yanking his hair again. "M'gonna.. gonna cum!"

"That's it.." Matt groaned, his voice deeper with lust. "Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my cock."

With another powerful thrust and a cry of his name, you were coming undone all over him. Your juices flowed around his cock, dripping onto the table below you.

Matt moaned and pulled out slowly, smirking at the way your body twitched under his hands. "I hope you aren't tired, angel. We aren't done yet."

Whimpering softly, you tried sitting up to get away. "Matt, no... no, too sensitive.." you whined.

Matt easily pinned you to his chest, carrying you to the couch. "Don't care, angel. I need you.."

He knew exactly what he was doing, pulling out his own whiny, desperate voice. There was no chance you'd say no to him.

Nodding slowly, you kissed his neck. "Okay, Matty. You can have me.." you mumbled against his skin.

Matt smirked, tossing you very unceremoniously on the couch. "Good girl. Bend over the arm for me," he ordered, giving your ass a playful little swat.

You moaned and shot him a mean look, knowing he wouldn't see it, as you bent over the arm of the couch.

Matt situated himself behind you, running his large hands gently over your lower back.

You couldn't help the little shiver that ran through your body, pushing back slightly to feel him more.

Matt laughed, his hands sliding down to gently spread and knead your ass cheeks. "God, angel, you're so cute. So desperate for my cock in your needy cunt, aren't you?" he asked, smacking your ass.

Your body was on fire, every nerve acutely aware of the man behind you. His words made the knot in your stomach tighten again. It was almost humiliating, how right he was.

"Yes, daddy.. so desperate," you finally replied with a low moan.

That nickname made Matt go feral. He wasted no time, sinking into your tight cunt, and slamming into you repeatedly.

"Fuck, angel. You know what that does to me," he growled in your ear, large hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. "But a little whore like you doesn't care, does she? She just wants to be fucked stupid. That's what I'll do then. Fuck my pretty little angel into a stupid little whore."

You were moaning and crying his name, hands gripping at the side of the couch for some sort of grounding. "M-matt please.. fu-ahh..."

"Look at you," he sneered, the tip of his cock brushing against that spot that had your knees shaking. "Can't even talk. Turning you into a little mindless slut was easier than I thought."

His words, coupled with the way he was fucking into you, had you coming undone embarrassingly soon.

Matt laughed harshly, smacking your ass again. "Already cumming little slut? How pathetic," he teased, thrusting deeper and harder. It was like he was determined to break you.

You were a stuttering, crying mess as you reached back to grip at his hand. "D-daddy.. I ca-.. I can't.." you cried out, nails digging into his skin a little.

"You can, and you will," he growled, yanking your hair roughly so you back arched and pressed against his chest. "Understand?"

Whimpering, you nodded the best you could with his hand in your hair.

"Good girl," he cooed in your ear, rutting into you even faster. He kept brushing against that spot repeatedly, making your body shake.

"God, you're so tight.." Matt moaned in your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

The overstimulation was almost too much for you to handle as you gripped onto his hand.

Matt chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you upright while he kept fucking into you.

That knot began building again, threatening to snap, and Matt could feel it.

"Hold on, angel. Hold on just a little longer for me," he whispered gruffly in your ear. "M'so close, baby.."

"Matt," you cried out, nails digging into his forearm as you held back your own powerful orgasm.

"Shh, shh, angel. Almost there, almost there.." Matt moaned, thrusts getting even sloppier and irregular.

"That's it, that's it.. cum with me, Y/N.. cum with me," he moaned, his hips stuttering as he started painting your walls white.

You didn't have to be told twice, your own orgasm rocking through you. You were glad for Matt's arm around you, otherwise you'd have fallen on your face.

After a few moments, the two of you calmed down.

Matt sat gently back against the couch, moving your body in his arms so you were facing him in his lap. "Did I hurt you, angel?" he asked gently, brushing his fingers gently over your face.

You hummed happily, leaning into his touch as you shook your head. "No, it was so good, Matty. D'you feel better now?" you mumbled against his fingertips.

Matt smiled softly, kissing you lovingly. "You always make me feel better, pretty girl. Thank you.."

You smiled and nodded a little bit, yawning as you snuggled against his chest.

Matt chuckled and gently picked you up. "Let's get you to bed, angel.."

You nodded sleepily, your eyes already closing as he carried you to bed. He gently laid you down, climbing under the covers with you.

Slowly, you fell asleep in his arm, content as could be. Matt smiled softly as he held you, listening to your heartbeat and the slow, steady breathing of sleep. Eventually, he too fell asleep, too tired to keep himself awake.

When you woke in the morning, your entire body was sore. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you smiled softly, seeing Matt asleep next to you. The way the sunlight his his face made you think God, he truly is an angel.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Justify ||

Poor is the man

Whose pleasures depend

On the permission of another

Love me, that's right, love me

I want to be your baby

Pairing: Matt Murdock X female Reader

Rating: E 18+ very much MAXIMUM SMUT, Shibari rope bondage, religious tropes, black suit (mmfff), fuck-me-in-half style sex, Matt Murdock's All Night Long Fuckathon, multiple orgasms, overstim, p in v, cream pie, oral, cumplay, oh- is that a breeding kink? Mayyyybe.

A/n: if you fancy you can have a listen to part of the inspiration for this, of course it's Madonna - Justify My Love. It's a bit long, sorry for any mistakes if they're terrible let me know, um.. nothing much else to say really, enjoy?

You waited alone in the office for him to arrive, idly tidying away the detritus of the day to pass the time. You were on edge, excited, and if you were completely honest, a little bit nervous.

He came in through the window and you almost didn't hear him, your body jerking in surprise and heart hammering a hundred times a second as his hand slipped so casually around your waist. You could feel him smirking, lips warm into your neck as he brushed your hair aside and planted a soft kiss just under your ear.

"Matt..."

"No. You asked for the other guy." his tone shot straight through you and you released an extremely shaky exhale before breathing him in. He smelled of the cool night air, of the city. Of rooftops, alleys and blood. Fights won, prevented, and lost.

His hands go to your shoulders, easily sliding the loose straps of your dress aside and you looked down almost helplessly as it fell down watching it pool on the floor around your feet.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?"

You shouldn't have been surprised at how beautifully he worked the ropes, how his fingers danced across your skin setting you alight with anticipation as he prepared you. Coils wrapped tidily around your wrists like crimson cuffs with a strong loop emerging from between them. Rows of neat knots decorated your body in a deceptively simple and attractive harness. Every single twist, wrap and knot was strategically placed for your pleasure, either indirectly by pressing against a pressure point, or more obviously, like the two strands that crisscross and diagonally frame around your clit. Every time you squirm against your bindings they give you a delicate kiss of stimulation and no more, just enough to have you lightly panting and pliant for him. You perch on one of the office chairs, the ropes wrapping your thighs softly pressing into your skin.

It was well into the evening of course, the main office door was locked but he had made sure your friends were busy just in case. You wouldn't have wanted to give Karen or Foggy an accidental view of you in this particular state. In fact you had almost said no to Matt before you acquiesced to his request for it to be here, he was very persuasive. With that mouth, and those hands he could almost get you to agree to anything.

Of course, you also had requests.

Actually, just the one.

"The Devil." you'd asked him, "I want him to take my confession."

Matt's mouth had gone dry. "I uh, hear the church can do that, see, they have these things called priests..." he half jokes but he's curious.

"Please."

"Alright." Matt's interest was doubly piqued. After all, what could you say to the Devil that you wouldn't say to him?

And so here you were. And here he was. You had to admit this was not quite what you were expecting when he decided to take his turn with the ropes.

Exposed. That was one word for how you both felt and looked, the blood red silken fibres your only garment while you were very much on display. But, this was his church and you were serving as his altar. He leaned up against the desk opposite as you shifted again.

"How long has it been since your last confession?" His voice is dark, dripping golden honey, rolling over you like liquid temptation.

"I... don't remember. Too long." Your tongue flicks out across your lips. "Many, many sins ago..."

You see a muscle in his jaw tic under the skin.

"It's okay, you can unburden yourself now, to me."

You take a deep breath.

"I have... thoughts."

Matt smirks, unsurprised. "As do we all from time to time. What is it that troubles you about them in particular?"

You rub your legs together, squirming in the chair. The rope fibres swish softly, almost musically, to Matt's ears.

"They're... impure. They concern a man."

There's silence for a few moments before he coaxes you to continue.

"God is always listening, sweetheart."

You swallow. "He's a good man, he cares so much for others, more than he does himself. He gives so much. He makes me want to be a better person."

Matt tilts his head to the side. "That sounds admirable?"

"Yes," you nod, "he stands up for people who cannot help themselves and seeks justice for them."

"But?" Matt preempts.

"Sometimes things don't have a happy ending, sometimes he can't stop the bad things from happening. Through no fault of his own. But he carries his own sins, he punishes himself with them and it hurts me to see him like that."

You watch him, wondering if you've crossed a line as he turns his head away, guilt almost seeming to darken the room.

"I know I can't change those things, but I can help him deal with them, maybe help him forget? I love him, as anyone could. I admit that it isn't always easy, real love never is, but I am so in love with him, with all of my heart, my soul. I want him to know that."

Although he knows you're talking about him, Matt starts to feel untethered.

"Then, how could your thoughts be impure?"

He draws his focus and holds on to the steady beating of your heart in the silence before you speak again and he's glad of it, as what you say next has him burning alive.

You sigh, closing your eyes as your confession starts flowing free and unbidden from your lips.

"I yearn, I ache for him. God, I can't find the words to describe how much I ache for this man... I want to take on all of his sin, to drown in it. I'm not unsatisfied, far from it, he gives me so much. But I know he holds back, I know I can take more, give him more of me..."

Matt can feel your body temperature rising, and the sound of your pulse is thudding through his skull. He can't help the shudder that wracks his body as you suddenly slide yourself off the chair, dropping to your knees in supplication in front of him.

"I need him so badly, you can't know how much."

His hands curl into fists and he's biting the inside of his cheek as he fights with the urge to devour you, but you're not finished with your admissions. You bow your head, and there's the barest whisper of a prayer from your lips that could only ever be for him to hear.

"God forgive me, for I know there's no other heaven than what I feel when he's inside me."

What the hell did he do to deserve you? To deserve this? He's interrogating himself but there's no answer. Blood is flowing like lava through his body, most of it heading south leaving him almost dizzy.

Leaning down, his fingers touch to the side of your face, sliding along to hook gently under your jaw and tip your head up. Your eyes drink him in. His are still shrouded with black cloth, his head tilts minutely to the side waiting, listening. The slick black shirt clings like a second skin to every muscle of his torso, it moves with his shoulders and chest as his breathing comes quick and shallow, adrenaline from the night still simmering in his veins. You don't miss the way his cock strains against those tight black pants.

"You want to drown in my sins, darling?"

You watch dumbstruck as he unzips his fly and pulls his thick cock out, holding it just above you making you squirm again.

He strokes himself a few times, slow. Your pupils grow wide as you gaze up him, watching his mouth as he parts his lips, just a touch, enough to let a thick drip of saliva fall straight down from his bottom lip. It lands neatly on the head of his cock, dripping around it and stretching, dripping down again in a connecting string which hits the flattened surface of your protruding tongue as you open your mouth for it. Matt's eyes roll into the back of his head as he hears, feels, and smells all of this unfolding, visualising the whole scene, his cock throbbing as his grip on it tightens.

"Fuck... baby-"

Any further words are lost into a slur of murmured expletives as you slide your mouth on him, spit slick and hot over the velvety soft skin. You rock your hips as you work him over, moving back and forth as the carefully positioned rope framing your cunt is teasing, beckoning you towards pleasure of your own. You bring your bound hands up around the base of his cock, fingers brushing at his dark curls and caressing his balls drawing a beautiful sound from deep in his chest as you attempt to suck the very soul out of him. Your throat gradually relaxes taking him deeper, and you feel him fighting the primal jerk of his hips, holding back as you moan around him.

You can't have that.

Pulling back slowly, your tongue drags underneath his shaft all the way to the tip where a glistening drop of precum leaks and spreads over the surface of your taste buds like a blot of wicked ink.

"Let go." you tell him.

His fingers twitch at his sides, chest heaving and he rips off the mask. "I- I just don't want to hurt you."

"You could never. I asked for the devil and that's what you're gonna give me. Let him out."

As you engulf him once more it doesn't take long for his hips to start moving in short thrusts. His fingers tentatively touch to your hair, gently sliding around to hold and guide your head and you groan your approval allowing him to take what he needs.

What he wants.

You're driving him insane already with your pretty mouth and tongue, his hand gravitates to your throat, fingers spreading as he fucks your mouth proper. God, he can feel his cock moving inside, feel the warm spit leaking and dripping down your chin, can smell your sweet cunt soaking the twists of ropes between your thighs. Fuck. He can't help himself, rutting harder now as he thinks about how you crave this, growling as it makes you moan louder and reverberate through him, makes gorgeous tracks of tears run down your cheeks and mix with the drool spilling out of your mouth. Your hands are massaging, pulling at his balls, the slightest tease of your fingers at his ass.

Oh goddd- oh fuck- he's gonna cum.

You grip him tightly as you feel him start to shake, hear his stuttering harsh breath as his orgasm builds its way right up from the base of his spine. You look up as his pretty mouth goes slack and his eyelids flutter closed. You want to grab his ass and force him to you but the bindings make it too awkward so you settle for gently squeezing his balls and humming around his cock, satisfied as you hear and feel his feral grunt and his hot release hits the back of your throat, coating it and your tongue in thick spurts.

You swallow him down, lick him clean, and slowly let him go. He's gripping the desk behind him, shaking. "oh god." he whispers, a prayer.

"It's just us." you say softly, smirking.

After a few moments he manages to unscramble his brain and pulls you to your feet wiping the mix of tears, cum, and spit from your face with a tissue from the desk. Then he's lucid, stripping himself of the rest of his clothes and boots, guiding you backwards towards the door, careful not to let you trip as he pushes you up against it. You try to withhold a grin of satisfaction, you've done it now, no going back. Turned the key in the lock and let this thing loose.

He casts the loop at your hands around the coat hook on the back of the office door. You shiver with anticipation as he takes his time just tracing his fingertips over your body, down your neck to your collarbone, tickling down the inside of your arm, palming your breasts, skimming lightly over your hip and trailing off at your upper thigh.

"Matt..."

"Shh." He soothes, with the black of his armour gone, all the rough kisses of the night on his body are on display.

You let loose a sigh as he leans into you, skin to skin, feeling almost every part of him already melding with you, buzzing with urgent desire. His teeth graze against your throat, you lean back on the door, your head gently thunking against it as he nips and marks you, echoing his own bruises.

"Are you gonna absolve me of all this, sweetheart?"

His voice has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up and you moan softly as he sucks more red bruising kisses into your skin.

"All my lust? My greed?"

"Yes."

Being anchored and held by your wrists meant that you could easily be turned, and that's exactly what he does, quickly spinning you around to face the door. He drags his fingertips down the center of your spine, pulling at the criss-crossing ropes and your back arches instinctually at his touch, hips tilting and pushing your ass up into his hands as they slide around to squeeze it.

"Eager, aren't you?"

Matt grabs your hips, pulls them back towards him and you moan feeling him hardening again between the cleft of your ass as he lazily grinds against you. One of his hands slips around to your front splaying over your public bone, his two middle fingers pressing into your slit.

"Mine." he rasps, rubbing the fingers through your wetness and over your clit making you keen. He slips them inside you, "yours..." you hiss as Matt starts to pump them in and out.

"So tight,"

"Yeah..."

"So... fucking... wet," he drawls.

Your patience for teasing is wearing thin. "Matty-"

"Spread your legs for me angel, your devil's gonna take you to heaven."

You barely have time to obey his command before the head of his cock is teasing and pressing into your entrance and you both groan in unison as he's filling you all the way to the hilt. He rests his chin between your neck and shoulder, his other hand dragging across your pretty harness and toying with your breasts. He's as close to you as can be, his breath ghosting over the marks he made as you relax into his intimate embrace.

Your own breath is punched out of you as he snaps his hips suddenly, roughly, your wrists jerking on the hook and stressing the door in its frame as he sets a brutal pace.

"M-matt!" you yelp as he flicks a finger against your clit, but he does not relent.

"Like that?"

You moan, head nodding loosely as all you can do is lose yourself to the incomparable sensation of him inside you. He wrenches at the red ropes at your hips, pulling you onto his cock and hitting so deep inside you wonder just how long he's been holding himself back. He's feral tonight, focused on just how much you can take, how far he can push you and you're high on it.

He keeps driving into you, rattling the door with each thrust. His lips brush the shell of your ear, "you feel so fucking good, always so good baby."

All you can do is moan in response, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his hand returns between your thighs, intent on blowing your mind. There's nothing patient about the way he's touching you, nothing teasing like he wants to draw this out. He's set on pulling as much pleasure and as many orgasms as he can out of you while you're restrained. The way you had given him permission for this was still burning bright in his mind and gut.

He gathers your slick, spreading it all over you and easing the friction of his rough fingertips on your clit. Your whimpers and breathy little moans he pulls from you are so addictive. Matt grunts as you clench around him and that only serves to make him speed up his fingers, still fucking that perfect cock into you like it was his only purpose. Heat is curling up like a muscular snake in your core, tightening with every thrust, every precise and sensual movement, and Matt is well aware.

"C'mon sweetie, I want to feel it."

Your eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as you start to pant heavily, tension almost at breaking point and then, with a simple devious whisper he sends you over the edge.

"there's a good girl..."

You shatter, white hot pleasure unfurling right through you as you cum, pussy fluttering and making Matt grit his teeth in a salacious grin but he just keeps going, fucking you all the way through it until you're whining at him.

He pulls out, the loss almost burns but he turns you around to face him, hikes one of your legs up and pushes right back in again. You'd cry out from the overstimulation, but you're so turned on you don't want him to stop. He lifts you up easily to wrap your legs around his hips holding you up against the door that's threatening to come off it's fucking hinges if he gets his way. The silk fibres around your thighs rub against his sensitive skin as you squeeze but he doesn't give a damn, he just wants to see how many times he can get you off before he taps out.

It's different now you're facing him, he's going slower and you're grateful for the slight reprieve. He noses along your jaw, one hand gripping onto your thigh and the other braced against the door. Soft kisses land on your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and finally your lips. You let him in, let his tongue lick lazily between them savouring the slight salty tang of sweat from his upper lip mixed with the unmistakable taste of him.

You're feeling it now, past the point of too much and back into building pleasure. The roll of his hips is delicious and you don't hide it, couldn't if you tried. You're annoyed that your hands are bound as all you want to do right now is squeeze his beautiful ass, maybe scratch your nails down his back...

"You alright?" he asks, far too sweetly for your current situation, "too much?"

"God, Matt," your laugh almost comes out as a moan, "no, you're just too fucking good at this!"

He smiles and you tilt your head up to catch his lips as if you could eat it. "Mm you're so pretty too." you say as you pull away letting your head fall back again.

He laughs, it's devilish. "Shh, you'll make me blush sweetheart. Now where were we..."

Slivers of tingling pleasure rip up and down your spine as he slows his hips, fucking you with long, hard strokes that have your eyes rolling back into your head. A second climax is steadily creeping up on you as he manages somehow to grind in just the right way to hit that sweet spot. Your bottom lip trembles as the heat flares up and up, Matt tugs on it with his teeth, nipping it making it swell and then soothing it with kitten licks. It's more than you can stand.

"m'close... don't stop-"

He grins, "if you can take more I've got no intention of stopping..."

The intensity of your orgasm is so much higher this time and the slow sure rhythm of Matt's hips causes it to surge over you like a giant wave. You arch away from the door as you cum, broken quavering moans filling the office as your body sags against his and he lets you down.

He unhooks you and carries you to the desk carefully sitting you on it. Taking your wrists in his hands he gently unties them, rubbing his thumbs across the marks, bringing them up to his lips to kiss. You roll them a couple of times before pulling him to you for a kiss.

"thank you." you murmur, just before his hands scoop under your ass, pulling you to sit at the edge of the desk.

"Don't thank me just yet." he husks and you mewl as he pushes your legs apart sinking down to the floor between them. His tongue traces over the soaked fibres surrounding your cunt and then he's fucking his tongue inside. Your hands swing backwards to brace yourself as you lean back and let him eat you out, you've got no choice. You've barely come down from the last orgasm, he won't let you, just keeps pushing and pushing you up until you're a dumb shaking mess at the mercy of his mouth. Tongue swirling around your swollen clit, crying out when he sucks at it sharply. You crash backwards on the desk as he just won't stop, your hands flying to his head, ploughing your fingers into his hair and tugging as he's burying his face into your pussy. He moans so deeply into you the vibrations along with his sinful mouth make you buck against his face, pens and office supplies falling off onto the floor around you as you chase yet another high.

"Oh fuuuck!"

You scream as he sucks this one out of you hard it almost hurts.

Lying there prone and breathless, when you finally have enough energy to open your eyes he's standing there between your legs, stroking his cock. He may have already cum once but it looks so hard and red like he's going to explode any second. He leans forward to lick up the curve of your breast and suck your nipple in his mouth making you squeal.

"One more baby, just one more and I'm done. Promise." He smacks the side of your thigh and shifts closer.

You whine, you're so fucked out already. "I don't know... if I can.."

He lines up and presses his cock into your hot, wet core with a growl, manoeuvring your legs just where he wants them. "Yes you can sweetheart, I know it, c'mon."

You're so tired, you just lie there and take what he's giving, he presses your legs back towards you chest as he fucks you harder than ever before. The noises you can hear are obscene and it's driving Matt spare, hammering into you and making the desk screech it's way along the floor. It's too much, it's not enough, it's too much.

His hand claws into the desk by your head, his breath hot and fierce at your neck. Open mouthed kisses drunkenly search for your mouth as he knows he's close, teeth and tongues clashing as he grunts into it. He grasps for the edge of the desk, buckling over you, contorting, howling as he cums spilling every single drop he has deep inside your abused cunt. His hips stutter and he bites into your shoulder as he gives you absolutely everything he has. You hold him as best you can, wrapping your legs around him as he slumps against you panting, running your hands up and down his back you collapse under the weight of him, your head hanging off the end of the desk.

Eventually he slowly pushes himself up and slips out of you, bracing himself on the desk between your legs. He can sense it, smell the mixture of your cum dripping out of you and he-

just

cant

help himself.

You feel his fingers stroking up your sweaty inner thigh, and you're twitching as he gathers up the leaking mess on his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

"M-maaatt! Wha-!" You gasp and try to clamp your legs shut but he prises them open wedging his elbow and forearm between your knees so he can keep fucking his cum back into your pussy.

"Mmm, such a fucking good girl for me," he purrs as he crooks his fingers, rubbing at the front of your walls. "think you deserve another."

You buck up off the desk. "No, Matt I CAN'T! Please... you p-promised- fuck!"

Matt just gives you that trademark smirk of his, curling and fucking his filthy fingers and making you shake.

You don't know how but he wrings it out of you like it's the simplest thing for him. And it is, you've made him feel whole after all. Made him feel he can be his true self with you and that you'd never punish him for that.

In this act was the merging of his two lives and you were the beautiful silken rope that tied them together.

Okay, I am absolutely spent. I love you.

Tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief

[cellophaine]

Lingered Affection (Chapter XV)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Word Count: 4865.

Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Fluff. A little angst.

Author's Note: I'm finally back to this wasteland that I call home. I've missed this, but it's hard to get back to it since I put too much pressure on myself to make it good when I could've had a silly good time with a silly goofy plot. But no, I had to suffer instead 🥲

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)

GIF is not mine

The car ride home was cast in a glowering silence with your unwillingness to talk as the instigator. It wasn't that you didn't want to. You didn't know how to explain yourself, where to start. An apology was redundant if not too little too late, and what was the point of apologizing if you kept committing the offence over and over again?

After the swift escape, you made your way to the alley behind the building to retrieve the sealed document lying on the empty spot, usually occupied by an industrial waste container. Once it was secured in your hands, you jogged to the main street with Matt's sullen silence glued to your side, uncomfortable like the lump in your throat you couldn't get rid of, and wordlessly flagged down a cab.

And now, in the suffocating, borderline blistering warmth of the taxi and the moody crooning of an old jazz classic crackled through the old radio, you found yourself unable to open the conversation. It was like an old diary of your worst mistakes sealed shut, and you knew once you pried it open, nothing good would come out. Still, the anticipation of the inevitable confrontation felt worse, somehow. It seemed harmless at first, like a small but smouldering flame that built up until every inch of you was covered in the tiny blazes, pricking at you from the inside. Your body knew the price of keeping secrets, and you were reminded every time.

You glanced at Matt, who angled his face toward the window as if his city, which always moved in blurry shapes and danced in transient flames, suddenly came to him in every little detail so sharp that he could touch it with his unsighted eyes, and he couldn't help but marvel.

You took a steady inhale, then exhaled softly through your lips. The easiest thing you could do for yourself right now was to say what was perching on your lips the moment Matt pulled you to the side at the fundraiser.

"I wanted to tell you. I really wanted to."

But you couldn't, not after everything that happened between the two of you. If your self-sabotage tendencies were like headaches, your family and everything that came with them were like migraines that only intensified, never relented. You thought you could spare Matt from descending downward into the neverending pit. It was a gateway that, once you opened, would never shut.

Your parents' maltreatment was like a program ingrained in your mind, impossible to unlearn, much less remove entirely. But it seemed like no matter what you did, Matt would end up in the midst of it. The only thing you could do was to be honest. But it was hard, and you couldn't help the way you were. The way you had always been. Your secrecy was your way of protecting yourself, looking out for your sanity because who else would?

"I'm really sorry. The last thing I want for you is to be involved with my family's… drama."

Such a trivial word for an intricate situation. It couldn't encapsulate the scope of virulency your parents were capable of. You knew that, and Matt had started to grasp the weight of your situation, too. It wasn't a walk in the park. It was a run for your life through the woods on injured ankles with bloodhounds chasing after you, their mouths foaming, their teeth snapping at your heels. And you couldn't outrun them.

Matt sighed and turned to your side of the cab. You couldn't gauge his emotions in the dark of the taxi. His face was cut with sharp angles by the shadows, but there was a softened edge of defeat in his voice.

"All I ask is for you to be honest with me."

When you were lost in your own turmoil with your parents, you neglected Matt. You forgot that he, just like you, also had a hard time getting close to others, especially when it came to his Daredevil identity. It took time, patience, and so much commitment for the two of you to reach this point where you could trust each other completely and wholly. You messed it up more than once, but here he was, still giving you his all. For as long as you thought you were protecting him by keeping him at arm's length, it only hurt both of you in the long run. You had to learn how to balance. Allowing Matt to know more about what was going on between you and your parents seemed like a fair trade for the time being.

"I know."

You allowed the rumble of the car and the low jazz to take over again. In the back of the cab, your hand found Matt's on the worn-out leather seat. At first, it was a barely-there contact; your skin grazed his. You drew on your courage to move atop his hand, feeling the small raises of his scars underneath your palm. For a moment, he didn't move. You breathed a relieved sigh as Matt responded to your touch, turning his palm upward to enclose your hand, your fingers wove tightly. Those were the last words exchanged for the rest of the ride.

–

Matt's home granted you great relief from the outside world, but his persistent silence did not. After closing the door behind you, he walked ahead while you lingered at the console table. You understood the gust of indifference he left behind was for you. Like a moth to the flame, he could never truly stay away, yet, for tonight, it didn't keep him from trying.

You followed Matt into the living room, where he had stopped to tug on his tie. He pulled it loose, draping it over the back of the sofa before working to discard his suit jacket. You tossed your purse along with the sealed file on the dining table, allowing the important document to be nothing but a scrap of paper and made your way to him, stepping into his space with so much uncertainty.

You reached out to him with your hands curled on his wrists, silently asking. After a moment, Matt let his arms fall to the sides, allowing you to help him. You felt the tension in your body wane with every button unfastened, slowly and languidly, until you reached the bottom that disappeared into the waist of his pressed slacks. You tugged slightly on the soft material, freeing the rest of the white shirt. Once all the buttons were undone, Matt's chest was bare to you, naked and moving steadily with every breath he took.

You couldn't help but risk a touch below his belly button, feeling the faint dust of fine hair tickle your fingertips. Your brief contact raised goosebumps on his skin, and Matt drew in a soft breath, held it there and waited for your next move. He looked beautiful like this, patient, yet his longing was palpable to your eyes, and you wanted nothing more than indulge. You missed this, the intimacy you shared, the deliberateness as you really took your time with each other until the need you built was so unbearable that you gave in. You dragged your fingers up, barely touching him, and the hitch in his throat was so quiet that you almost missed it. It gave you a small boost forward as you grew bolder; your hand ghosted over his abs, the hard planes on his chest, and only stopped to stroke teasingly at the column of his throat, feeling him swallow hard. You dared a look at his face to see his unsighted eyes settled on you, his lips parted and quivered in soft, careful exhales. Your eyes fluttered, and your heart skipped a beat as you took his slightly dishevelled self in, reading the barely hidden yet, still restrained desire written all over his glossy eyes, his parted lips and the way his breaths seemed to grow even quieter at his control.

You leaned in, only paused when there was barely any distance in between so he could end this if he wished to. But Matt made no move to push you away. So you followed the natural course laid out before you; your fingers were replaced with your lips on the delicate flesh with a light-as-feather touch. The small caresses were careful, experimental as you were unsure of your place until they became insistent as you pressed harder, wanting to feel more of him. Your lips parted to suck on his skin; your tongue darted out to taste it. You felt Matt's arm close around the small of your back, pulling you closer like an invitation for you to continue. Your teeth closed around his skin and tugged, drawing a deep groan from his throat. Matt's hands grasped you through the material of your dress; the low resonant of his whine urged you to continue. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand found its home in his hair, carding through the soft strands and tugging as your mouth moved to nip at his jaw. Matt liked that, his grunt of approval and the tightening of his arms around you, pressing you against him even more, was an obvious indication.

His hand grasped your chin and tilted your face to meet his. He caught your lips with such urgency as if he couldn't do it soon enough. A dam broke inside you when your lips connected; a swirl of relief and exhilaration winded deep in the pit of your stomach. His hand banded around your throat, his fingers brushed against your pounding pulse, holding you still but not restricting your movement. Your kiss was unrestrained and desperate, releasing all the bottled frustration from your earlier exchange in the closet. It was also a physical proof made of skin, bones, and the thundering of your hearts that you were here together, that this was real. Matt had longed to hold you like this, to have you like this, and you had yearned to feel once again the home you made in his arms. In this sacred moment, you didn't need words. You had already said so much in so little time and trusted that your action was enough to show him how much you wanted him. Matt crushed you to him, making your dress bunch and wrinkle, and you groaned at the barrier in between. You pushed at the shirt on his shoulders with impatience, and Matt helped you get rid of it. You sighed as your hands met his bare skin, warm, alive, and taut over the expanse of muscles.

You barely parted. You couldn't, even when the air in your lungs wane. When you were desperate for it, you would pull back slightly only to gravitate toward Matt again. Your teeth clashed, your tongues intertwined. You needed the lack of distance, the growing intensity, and the impatience you shared. Matt found the zipper of your dress and tugged on it harshly, eager to free you of your confinement. He pulled on it several times, but the creased garment refused to give. You felt his grunt of frustration before his withdrawal from your lips, felt his hands hold the fabric in place so he could slide the zipper down while you peppered kisses all over his neck and collarbone, licking and nipping at his skin like it was a drug.

After a final decisive pull and a satisfied groan, your dress came loose and pooled at your feet. Matt's warm hands raised goosebumps on your skin as he caressed your body, worshipping with every fervent touch. His hands moved and kneaded and groped as if you were to disappear any moment, and he needed to seize every moment, every second. Your bodies fused as one as you moved backward and bumped into the back of the couch. You felt his erection straining against his dress pants, pressing into your thighs. You felt lightheaded, not only from the onslaught of kisses, of the intoxicating air you breathed in but from the dizzying need to shed his clothes, to get him naked, to have nothing else in the way.

With shaky but determined hands, you reached for his belt, tugging it loose with Matt's help. You sighed breathily into his mouth as his pants fell, and the hard outline of his erection felt more noticeable now. You palmed it, and Matt moaned softly, his face contorted as if your touch was enough to make him lose it. He made his way to your throat, making you gasp and moan as you could tell his bites were hard enough to leave marks. You couldn't care less about how you would be perceived with Matt's love bites on your neck the next morning. You could only focus on how good he made you feel, how he lavished his attention on you. He settled on the point between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the delicate flesh. One hand guided your neck to arch into his mouth while the other reached for your bra and unfastened the hook. You tossed the garment over your shoulders, and Matt wasted no time attaching his skilled mouth to your breast. You felt your legs weakened as he worked you over relentlessly; his tongue swirled over your sensitive nipple, his teeth dug softly into the supple flesh, sucking and nipping and licking while his other tended to the other, groping and rolling your hardened nub between his forefingers. You threw your head back, letting your moans of ecstasy bounce freely off of the brick walls. Your hands grasped his shoulders; your nails dug into his skin to warn him of your urgency.

"Take me to bed, please. I need you."

Matt came back to you, so breathless and speechless that all he could do was nod, his breathing laboured. You were picked up in one swift movement; Matt's hands dug into your thighs. He laid you onto the bed gently, a contrary to the way he had been handling you. You crawled backward on your arms, watching as he followed. Your gaze roamed over the mushed-up hair on his head, his glossy unsighted eyes trained on you. You eyed the faint smear of your lipstick all over his lips; the clumsy imprint was blurry and only enhanced the irresistible dishevelled look on Matt's face. You caught a brief glimpse of the pigment before Matt brought you back to him by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, by the feel of his hand on your hip bone, his thumb delved under the lace of your underwear. You lifted your hips, and he worked quickly to rid of them. You went for his boxers, pulling the waistband down the globes of his ass until he was free from the containment. His cock was hot and heavy on your thigh, and you couldn't help but moan softly at the sheer anticipation.

Matt touched you where you needed him most, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped. His skilled fingers ran along your wet folds, grazing your sensitive clit. Your back arched off the silk sheet as his movement grew persistent, drawing needy whimpers from you as if he could feast on your pretty sound of pleasure. Your hips chased after his hand even after he pulled it away to retrieve a condom from the bedside table. A wave of relief washed over you as Matt returned. He braced himself above you, close enough for you to feel his warmth, yet not enough that he could crush you. You involuntarily tensed as he poised at your entrance; the tip of his aching cock caught on your folds. You hadn't been intimated with anyone else since your breakup, and you had the feeling that it was the same for him. Matt sensed your uneasiness and drew his hips back, giving you some space. His hands found yours; his thumbs drew soothing patterns on your palm. Even though there hadn't been a single word exchanged between you ever since you got back, you understood everything Matt had been telling you with his actions. His face softened, and his unseeing eyes settled on you with affection and love as he waited for your permission.

Your heart swelled in your chest at the tenderness evident in every fibre of Matt's being. You knew you were safe here and how much you had desperately wanted that safety net to catch you. All you had to do was to let yourself fall into his arms.

Your hand travelled along the side of his firm body to reach his back, relishing in the coiled muscles, feeling the divots of his waist, and urged him to move with a slight nudge. The other came to rest on the side of his face, softly caressing the stubble that tickled your fingertips. Matt understood your cues, pressing his lips into your palm before pushing in. You felt the slow and delicious stretch of his cock, your mouth fell open, and a moan parted your throat in a way that drove him mad. He took his time and moved slowly, and as impatient as you both were, you understood that Matt was careful not to break you. The world and your worries ceased to exist as you were wrapped in the enrapture of one another, lost at being so physically connected that the only person you knew of was him. The only thing you felt was him.

Matt increased the pace, jolting you with each hard thrust as he pulled out just to slam back in again. Euphoria filled your body and mind, inspiring your thought to spiral into something deeper you weren't even aware of. You missed this. You missed sex, but not as much in the act itself. You missed being intimate with Matt. The way he understood you, the way he knew what you needed in the heated moments. He listened, he obliged, and he cared more about your pleasure than his. Finally having him here, like this, despite the rift you caused just months ago, made your nose sting. You thought you had lost him for good, and that alone gave a final push to the salted tears gathered in your eyes. Matt's pace faltered, yet, he still kept a steady rhythm, only slower than before. He touched your cheek, feeling the wetness at the corner of your eye, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Am I hurting you? Should I stop?"

You shook your head and pulled him down to kiss you; your lips moved together in urgency. He felt your plea to be consumed wholly, so he kissed you just like how you needed. Deeply, thoroughly, wholeheartedly. Your mouth eagerly opened to his demanding tongue. Your hips arched to meet his, silently asking him to pick up the pace. And he did. You let go; your fervent moans materialized and molten together in a melody. A song of lovers found, of lost souls touched and intertwined. Your hands grasped his sweat-dotted skin; your thighs banded around his hips like a mark. You tried to hold on as you didn't want this to end already, but Matt gave your wrist a squeeze, promising you it was okay. The frantic drive of his hips made it harder and harder for you to hold off, so you conceded. You came with a loud cry, and Matt held you through the intense wave of ecstasy. You moved your hips to meet his stuttering thrusts before Matt came too. A broken moan enveloped your hearing and pounding heart in a warm embrace. You held him close as he lay on top of you, welcoming his weight like an anchor, binding you to him, to where you had always belonged.

Time slipped by your woven hands much too fast to your liking as you nestled in Matt's arms, with his hand covering yours on your chest. He lavished you with attention, adorning you with kisses to dry up the tears that poured moments before until the inevitable happened. When it did, Matt left the bed with much reluctance, leaving you in the remnant of his warmth on the sheet. You heard him putting on his Daredevil suit and watched as he made his way to you, giving you one last lingering kiss. He smoothed a hand over your hair before putting his gloves on, and then he was gone with a promise of returning soon.

You flopped back to the bed and sighed, relishing in the afterglow. A tiredness settled in your bones, a result of all the exhilaration and anxiety that happened in the span of one night. You buried your face in the pillow that smelled like Matt, wishing he was here with you.

You could feel the pull of fatigue in your body, but your mind insisted on staying awake no matter how much you willed yourself to fall asleep. You tossed and turned and eventually gave up when it was clear you were only wasting time.

You leaned against the kitchen counter while waiting for the water to boil. The aroma of dry tea leaves soothed your nerves as you zoned out, trying to clear your head. Your eyes roamed the room aimlessly until they fell on the sealed file perched atop the dining room table alongside your purse. Its whispered promises of secrets revealed drew on your interest, and you allowed your curiosity to win after debating whether you should open it. After all, you had time to spare. For once, maybe you could stay ahead of your father's game.

You sat down and flipped through the file; your eyes read and examined every word written on the pages. Your eyes read the names next to their black-and-white photos. Ethan F., Theodore K., Terry M., Minh T., Rob H. No last names. Nothing else that might give away too much, only short descriptions of their blood types, medical summaries and respective recordings of what you couldn't fully understand. Stabilized with Aconitine. Responded well to the insertion process. Metal compounds with complicated names were assigned to each man. In Terry M.'s report, the recording was only half as long. His page was crossed out in a red X. You skimmed through the paragraph, noting the small differences compared to other men, and at the very end of it: Subject responded negatively to graphene. Increased dose. Subject unresponsive. Your brows scrunched together, and your stomach churned at what you were reading. You shut the file and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to process.

Just because you hated your father didn't mean whatever he was planning was illegal. Maybe your source was wrong. Perhaps you were the bad person in this situation. You were so desperately hoping for your father's life-long project to be malfeasance that you overlooked the good things that did come out of it. He saved a life. He might have hit you, injured you for a long stretch of your life, but he saved someone. That must make the scale balanced.

The thought grew ugly and vile as it twisted at your insides, knowing it had the upper hand already. Your eyes were pricked with fresh, frustrating tears, and you blinked slowly, willing them to not fall.

No matter how you looked at it, abuse was still abuse. You had to remind yourself. It was hard to remember and believe it on most days because who were you to say that you were innocent, that you didn't deserve your father's beatings? If only you were a better daughter, a better person–

You stood up abruptly, cutting off your train of thought forcefully. The chair scraped the hardwood floor, making an unpleasant sound that made you wince. You hunched over, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale slowly in an attempt to slow your heart rate and the growing anxiety. You did it until your pulse returned to normal, until the dread in your stomach wasn't as intimidating as before.

You eyed your purse on the table and realized you might have a better understanding if you knew at least some of the extent of your father's project. You reached for your phone and quickly looked up your father's name. You watched as the results showed within seconds and scrolled through the headlines. They were all praises dedicated to "the most innovative doctor of our time". You clicked on the link written by a reputable scientist who worked closely with your father throughout the early stages of development, the article cited. The details they shared were generic enough to give a normal person a good understanding but not in-depth enough to give away their life's work. You read on as they sang your father's praises on how he reconstructed Aaron's broken spine by providing support with an unnamed material that was flexible yet durable. The procedure was described as "delicate, one-of-a-kind, state-of-the-art that will change the world for the better."

Before you could read further, the door to the roof opened, signalling Matt's return. You placed your phone on the table and watched him descend the stairs, gauging for any sign of injuries. He appeared unharmed, his steps light and quick as he approached you. You greeted him in the middle, your arms opened with a hug, and Matt returned your gesture of affection. You let him lift you off the ground, his face tilted up to find yours; his lips captured yours with urgency with his cowl still on. The hard material dug into your face, but you couldn't care less as you melted in his arms, grateful for his presence.

When you finally pulled away, Matt spoke, his voice deep and drunk from the kiss.

"What are you doing up?"

"I'm just looking over some stuff we took earlier tonight. I couldn't sleep."

You took hold of the helmet with one hand and tried to free Matt from it.

"Anything important?"

His hand moved to help you with the cowl as you responded distractedly at the sight of his face revealed.

"Oh, I'm sure everything in that file is important. I haven't figured it out yet though."

He went in for a peck, and your nose scrunched as it landed.

"I know you will. I'm here to help you as well."

"Thank you. I appreciate you."

You stroked the back of his neck, feeling the slightly damped hair there. Matt cleared his throat softly; a touch of tease edged in his voice.

"If you're still up, that means … I didn't do my job right."

Your smile widened at his meaning.

"You'll have to try harder then."

"Is that a challenge?"

He arched a brow, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"It is if you want it to be. Do you … want it to be?"

"I think you know the answer to that already."

You threw your head back and laughed softly, exposing your throat to him. Matt caught the chance, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive skin. You squirmed in his hold and gasped softly when his grip on your thighs tightened as he carried you to the bedroom.

–

You pulled your bag closer to yourself as you stepped off of the subway, navigating the flow of pavement traffic. The weather had warmed up so much that you could ditch the scarf and heavy coat and opt for a light jacket instead. You checked your phone again to be safe and continued your route. Eventually, you stopped before your destination. The building looked decent from the outside as you took it in before checking the address one more time. Figuring you shouldn't stand in the middle of the sidewalk any longer, you walked in through the door. It opened even though it looked like you needed a key. You didn't question it as you took the elevator going up. The number ticked up slowly, and you felt your anxiety rise with it.

The elevator's doors opened, and you stepped out. At the end of the hall was where you saw it: the writing on the frosted glass pulled at your attention, indicating your stop. You closed the distance with assured steps and took a deep breath before you knocked. You waited patiently, listening as some dull sounds made it to your ears: a dull thud, a chair push, boots steps on the floor, and finally, the wooden door with glass pane revealed the person on the other side.

"You."

The woman levelled you with a cool gaze and an even colder tone, almost as if she was bored by your mere appearance.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. The one with mommy and daddy issues."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Detective Jones."

She rolled her eyes; her annoyance was clear at the formal and false title.

"I'm not a detective."

She turned on her heels and walked over to her desk, not bothering to see if you would follow her.

"Come in. Whatever you found for me better be good."

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