#matt murdock request

[chvoswxtch]

hi um so this is like my first time making a request, like ever. I’m not even sure if this is where I’m supposed to put a request. So I’m really nervous but this idea has been in my head for weeks and I need it to be brought to life? Idk but can I request Matt Murdock with a sort of shy reader? Where he tells her about his abilities and daredevil and everything (established relationship) and she doesn’t really care as long as he’s safe but she has something in her mind and he notices and keeps asking and basically she has a question about his senses, specifically his taste and idk if you know but Matt can canonically know ALL of the ingredients of anything just from a taste and she basically wants to make him taste a bunch of stuff and tell her the ingredients of it so she can make them? I know this is probably WAY too specific so feel free to completely ignore this, I just wanted to get it out.

hi my darling!

so I actually read this request right before going to the grocery store, and while I was looking through produce, it made me think about how matt would absolutely know which produce was the freshest and which ones to avoid. I kinda mixed that in with your idea about being able to tell exactly what ingredients were in something, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for! <3

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and matt being a lil shit word count: 1.3k

lemons.

“Not that one.”

You hand instantly stilled over a lemon that your fingertips had already grazed over. Glancing at Matt over your shoulder, a crease formed between your brows while you looked back down at it.

“What do you mean? This one is perfect-”

“It’s not ripe enough.”

“But…it’s so yellow, like sunshine yellow.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s lips when he felt the way your own pursed into a bit of a confused pout. It was something you always did when you were intensely focused on something, and he found it endearing. Reaching his hand out, he used the pad of his thumb to smooth away the furrow that had creased in the middle of your forehead, and his soft smile curled up into a light smirk catching the flush of heat that immediately coursed through the tops of your cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a very pretty lemon, but it doesn’t taste ripe.”

Ever since Matt had told you the truth about his vigilante identity and his abilities, you’d had countless questions. You wouldn’t voice them at first, almost as if you were afraid to cross some invisible boundary that Matt might have, but he knew you, and he knew how to dismantle that shy exterior of yours. From the moment the two of you first met, you had been overly polite and accommodating about his disability, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. You didn’t walk on eggshells around him or call any extra attention to his blindness. In fact, the way you interacted with him was so seamless, it was almost like it came second nature.

If you guys were grabbing coffee with Karen and Foggy, you would automatically place the raw sugar packets within his reach because you knew he preferred it to the artificial sweeteners. If the four of you went to check out a new lunch spot, you always called ahead to check if they had a menu in braille and made sure Matt was given one. There were so many little things you did to make him feel included and normal. It was part of why he fell so hard for you.

You never asked about the origin of his blindness, and even after he opened up and told you about his accident, you were reserved with your questions. He could tell you were curious, and he wanted you to ask. He wanted you to know things about him. You were a bit of a wallflower, and Matt could always feel you silently observing him, but he wanted you to understand him. He quickly realized he would have to flat out grant you permission to be nosey, and so he did.

Out of everyone he had revealed his Daredevil secret to, you had taken it the best. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the surprise of just how well you handled it. You didn’t get angry or yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar or a traitor, or ask him if he was faking his blindness; all reactions he expected. You just sat there in pure confusion, and you were silent for so long, Matt was panicked that he’d sent you into a state of shock. When it finally settled in that it wasn’t a joke, your brows knit together, and Matt could feel the way your face contorted into an expression of irritation when you flat out asked him if he was crazy. The memory of that night never failed to make him smile.

“Um…well, I mean…not in the traditional sense-”

“Matthew, what the hell are you thinking running around on rooftops, going after guys with guns and knives with…sticks? How do you even do that?”

“They’re batons, actually. Look it’s hard to explain, but I have heightened senses that help me-”

“Are those super senses going to keep you out of prison? Because that’s where you’re going if you get caught. What was the point of going hundreds of thousands of dollars into debt for law school if you were just going to wind up a prison cell for doing backflips off buildings in your underwear?”

“Heightened senses. And it’s not underwear. Underwear is comfortable.”

There hadn’t been a hint of anger in your voice. Annoyance, sure, but mainly concern. All you wanted was for Matt to be safe, and he did his best to assure you that he would be. Matt went into as much detail as he could to help you understand his abilities, and the more comfortable you got with asking him things, the more you learned.

Like how he could tell exactly what ingredients were in the lemon bread at the cafe down the street from your apartment that you loved so much, which was currently the reason behind your little trip to the store at the moment. All it took was one bite of the bread, and he knew exactly how to replicate it.

Apparently he could also tell when lemons were at their peak.

Reaching into the pile of lemons, Matt grasped the one that was in perfect condition to him and held it out towards you. Taking the lemon in your hand, you gave it a light squeeze, noticing that it was firm to the touch but easily gave into the gentle force of your fingers testing its density. 

“Feel the rind.”

Following Matt’s instructions, you brushed your thumb along the bright yellow rind. It was smooth to the touch, and somewhat glossy as it nearly reflected the brightness of the overhead lighting in the grocery store. 

“It’s shiny.”

Matt chuckled at your response and lightly nodded his chin in your direction.

“What else?”

“It’s smooth.”

“It’s perfectly ripe. The zest on this one is the freshest. It has the most flavor, and the right amount of juice.”

Arching one of your brows, you stared up at Matt curiously while still faintly squeezing the lemon in your hand.

“You can tell how much juice is in this just by touching it?”

A grin stretched across Matt’s lips, showcasing his dazzling teeth and causing indents to appear in his cheeks. His thick brows rose slightly above the rim of his crimson glasses.

“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

“No I’m just…still trying to figure out how you do…what you do.”

A bashful twinge of heat coated your cheeks once again, and Matt thought it was adorable that you diverted your attention back to the lemon shyly to avoid his gaze even though he couldn’t see your reaction. He reached out to tenderly brush his knuckles along the warmth in your cheeks while he smiled in your direction. 

“I’ll try to do better at explaining. Now c’mon, we have more ingredients to get. You know, I think this bread is gonna turn out so well, the one at the cafe might not meet your standards anymore.”

The confidence in Matt’s voice caught your attention, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Sometimes you forgot that your boyfriend was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that everyone was so afraid of. If only they knew that he spent his Saturdays sniffing out ingredients at the grocery store like a bloodhound to help his girlfriend recreate the recipe for her favorite lemon bread.

“You know, if you didn’t love law so much, you could’ve made out like a bandit in a baking competition.”

“Oh I would’ve won with my sob story of being a blind little Catholic orphan alone.”

“Matthew!”

Matt snickered at the disbelief in your tone, but he could also detect the way the edges of your lips twitched, like you weren’t sure if you should laugh at that or not. Snaking his arm around your waist, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead and gently nudged you in the direction towards the spice aisle.

“Come on, we need flour.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[devils-dares]

Could I request Matt Murdock x wife!reader, just something with them, they have a toddler aged child (named after Matt’s dad). Maybe hurt/comfort. Thank you

wordcount: 1383

warnings: assault, bit of blood, daredevil is daredevilin', hospital

-----

“C’mon buddy, let’s get home.” You felt bad, almost dragging Jack home from urgent care. He’d been steadily getting more and more sick, so you’d decided to take him tonight. One hand gripped his little hand and the other scrunched the brown bag with his prescription inside. You’d made him some soup earlier, and wanted nothing more than to give him a bath and put him to bed, and then fall into your husband’s arms to sleep.

“Care to help me out, Miss?” You hear a voice call out, presumably to you, but you keep on walking. You could hear the man grumble and the jingle of the coins in the can quieten, but you thought nothing of it as you slightly quickened your pace, deciding your best bet would be to pick Jack up as he was struggling to keep up with you.

“Mommy?” He whined, presumably upset with the pace you were keeping, bouncing him up and down on your hip with the speed.

“I know honey, but we gotta make it home. Don’t you wanna surprise Daddy before he gets home?” He nods enthusiastically, hiding his face in your neck.

“Mommy, that man is catching up with us.” Jack says, his dad having taught him about being vigilant of his surroundings.

“Yeah, bug?” You say, trying your best not to sound nervous, trying to dig into your pockets to find your phone and dial Matt.

You never made the call.

The man had grabbed you by the waist, practically throwing you into the alley next to you. Jack had landed safely, but you landed on your back. Sitting uo, vision blurry, you reach a hand to the back of your head where it had made contact with the ground, warm blood seeping onto your fingers. Your phone had skidded away from you, the cracked screen tauntingly displaying your husband’s picture and phone number.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks, gesturing a knife wildly to the prescription bag on the floor.

“Sir, please-” You try to reason with him.

“I asked you a question!”

“It’s flu medication! Flu medication for my son, please there’s nothing of worth in there.” He dumps out the bag on the ground, a bottle of medication rattling on impact. He picks it up and checks the label, and he must have realized that it was no worth to him as he threw it on the ground. You gesture to Jack, and he makes a mad dash to position himself behind you.

“You’ve gotta have somethin’ of worth on you, lady.” He turns the knife towards you, but before he can make impact, a sickening crunch of bones interrupts him, landing him against the ground in a rough fashion.

“Leave them be.” A voice rang out, one that sent chills down your spin as well as a feeling of warmth and comfort. The man foolishly takes a swing at Matt, and his actions are met with yet another hard impact.

You pull Jack into your lap, covering his eyes and ears so he doesn’t have to witness his father’s other personality. Matt pulls the other man up by the collar of his shirt, pushing him up against the bricks and throwing his fist, not stopping until you mutter his name under your breath.

“Get lost,” he says, “I don’t even want to find you messing with anyone else.” The man nods, sprinting away with gashes across his face to escape Matt.

“Daddy!” Jack runs over to Matt as he kneels down, burying his head in Matt’s shoulder.

“Hi buddy.” His voice is still hoarse from the grunting and the adrenaline running through his veins.

“Can you grab your medicine and Mommy’s bag while I check on her?” Jack nods and Matt plants a kiss on his head before getting up to check on you.

“Where’s the blood coming from?” He asks, voice softening with use.

“My head, back of my head.” He takes his glove off, gingerly weaving his fingers through your strands of hair, stopping when he feels the warmth of blood and your quiet whimper.

“You’ll have to go to the hospital for this,” he says, “they have to make sure it isn’t a concussion.”

“Can you come with?” You ask.

“Course I can. I just gotta run home to change. Is it alright if I drop you off there?” You nod. He stands, reaching his hands out to take yours and help you stand. He turns to Jack.

“Can you hand Mommy her purse?” He nods, your purse almost dragging on the floor because of how small your son is.

“Matty, what-”

“Don’t worry your head about that. I’ll drop you off, take him home, and then change and meet you at the hospital.” He presses a kiss to your lips, and then leans down to carry Jack on his back.

“Are you holding on tight?” He asks, and Jack hums his agreement.

“I can walk on my own,” you say, Matt immediately taking a defensive stance, “I can make it, it’s only a few blocks.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I can make it. Keep Jack safe and make sure he takes his meds, I’ll see you when you put on appropriate clothes.” He shakes his head.

“Fine, but I’m following you all the way.”

“Okay.”

He’d called Claire while following you, asking her to take care of you. She agreed, and was there to bring you in from the door. Your cracked phone buzzed a few minutes later, a message appearing from Matt saying he and Jack had made it home.

“Is it throbbing?” Claire asks.

“Starting to.”

“Hm, that’s the adrenaline wearing off.” She separates your hair, cleaning off the sticky blood with alcohol wipes to make sure the bleeding has stopped. She does her assessment, diagnosing you with a concussion, and keeps you there for monitoring.

“Matt’s here,” she says after about twenty minutes, “he brought the kid.” Sure enough, you hear the stomping of little shoes running down the hallway towards your room, little four-year-old sneezing and sniffling Jack pushing himself up onto your bed.

“Mommy!” He shouts, nuzzling up to you. You laugh, watching him burrow his way into your blankets. Claire pats Matt on the shoulder, and he turns his attention towards you once she steps out.

“Hey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “how are you feeling?”

“Head’s throbbing, but I’ve got Doctor Jack,” you tickle his sides and he giggles, “to take care of me.” Matt smiles down at the two of you, reaching up to remove his glasses.

“I was telling Daddy, he went ‘boom!’ and ‘pow!’ and he scared that man off, Mommy! Did you see? Daddy looked so cool!” Jack excitedly babbles.

“I did see, bug, but you gotta keep that a secret, okay?” You say.

“Daredevil is my favorite superhero.” He says, and Matt grins widely.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get on this couch and let Mommy get some sleep, okay?” He nods, reaching his arms up towards Matt, who takes him and lays him on top of his chest.

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy.” He says, voice still nasally but sounding just a bit brighter.

“Goodnight, Jack, we love you.” You say, turning over and letting sleep take you.

Matt stays awake, the background noise of the hospital too loud to rest. Jack is mouth breathing on his chest, and he can’t get mad at the kid either, he’s getting over a nasty flu, and the patient in the room next door has a wheezing issue. His head aches.

“Matt?” He hears your voice call out.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” He whispers back.

“No, but I can hear you thinking.”

“It’s just loud,” he sighs, “struggling to rest.” He hears you sit up, rummaging around somewhere.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Here, catch.” You toss him a small container.

“What’s this?”

“Earplugs. Just enough to block out most of the sound, but not enough to block out what’s near you.”

“You didn’t have to.” He says, slipping them in. Sure enough he can still hear your’s and Jack’s heart beats, but not the wheezing next door anymore, or the beeping a few floors away.

“How’s that feel?” You ask.

“It feels amazing, thank you.”

“Love you, Matty.”

“Love you too.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

I NEED MATT MURDOCK BENCH PRESSING HIS LOVER SO MUCH PLEASE!!!

This idea is absolutely amazing and now that I’ve settled into my new job, I’ve had the time to actually write! I hope it lives up to what you wanted!

Bench Me (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Warning: Fluff, Matt being cheeky and flirty, established relationship, implied smut

“Looking good, sexy,” you hum, walking into your shared apartment. Matt is in the middle of his workout regimen. You managed to convince him to invest in some weights and other material so he wasn’t always going to Fogwell’s if he just wanted to do a light workout. Not only was it a way you were able to see Matt a little more often, but you never were opposed to the sight of him in a sleeveless tank and sweatpants, glistening from the exertion of his exercise.

“I could say the same, angel,” Matt smiles, putting down the weights and wiping his face with his towel. Moving over to him, you place your hands on his shoulders and press a sweet kiss to his lips, enjoying the stick of his skin. “I missed you today.”

“Missed you, too,” you say, kissing him again. “And my, my, what a nice treat to see first thing home.”

“I thought you were past objectifying people?” he teases.

“Hey, you do the same thing to me,” you chuckle before you begin to mimic him. “Mm, baby you smell so good today. Mm, angel, you’re so soft. My God, I’m not sure if I love your ass or your tits better.”

“Those are compliments! And I don’t sound like that!” he laughs.

“You do so!” You smile as he holds you tighter in his arms before he leans in for a kiss, making you arch your back to accommodate for the depth of the embrace. “And if you can pass those off as compliments, then think of my little remark one of the same breed.”

You feel his lips twist into a big smile against yours, the kind that make the lines by his eyes appear deep with joy. “I still love you, even if you are a bad impressionist,” he murmurs against your mouth, pecking your lips a few more times before he lets you go to resume his workout.

“Hey, Murdock. I have an idea,” you say, unable to help the smirk that curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Do you now, angel?”

“I do,” you say as you move toward him. “I want to help with your workout.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Like you want to spot me? These aren’t really the kinds of weights for tha—.”

“No, Matty. Bench press me.”

“What?”

“Bench press me,” you repeat. “I know you for sure can pick me up, and you have those gorgeous arms of yours. Why not bench press me?”

His mouth hangs slightly, his brows raised, and you can see how his mind races. “You can think of it as extra special quality time,” you add on. “But do know whatever way you choose to lift me will definitively commit you to whether you like my ass or tits better, so choose wisely.”

“Just because it will be easier for me to lift you with a hand on your ass doesn’t mean it’s my favorite,” he counters with a sassy smirk, lightly raising his brows and cocking his head to the side.

“I knew you liked my boobs better.”

“Tie up your hair and get over here, will you?”

With a big smile, you do as he asks, feeling the tips of your ears and you cheeks grow warm with excitement. After he lies down in the proper position, he perks his head up and waves you over with a goofy, mock seductive curl of his finger. You laugh as you walk over to him, and as you turn around to get in position, you feel his hand cup your ass almost immedately. Involuntarily, you suck in a little gasp and feel a heat spread across your neck.

“Get you mind out of the gutter, angel. It’ll make it easier for the both of us,” Matt instructs as he adjusts his hands to where he needs them. “Now, relax a little, and let me get some reps in.”

You chuckle softly and do as he asks, letting your eyes close as you let him lift you up and down, over and over.

“Doing good, Matty?” you breathe as he continues to follow the rhythm he set.

“Yeah,” he grunts as he pushes you up, giving your ass a squeeze.

“How about you take a rest?”

“‘M good.”

“Matt, c’mon.”

With a sigh, he brings you to his chest and readjusts his hands, placing you on his lap.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting up.

“Very,” you assure. “You?”

“Mmm,” he hums with a smile, his eyes half closed. “I guess it’s just not how I’d prefer you going up and down over my body.”

You giggle and feel your cheeks burn hot, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss. “Dork,”you tease, kissing him once more.

“Yeah, well, I’m your dork.”

“That is true . . . And right now, you’re my sweaty dork.” Your fingers play with the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt, and the twitch of the corner of his lip and the slight quirk of his eyebrows give you all the permission you need to peel the fabric from his skin and toss it aside.

“How about you help your sweaty dork wash up?”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

[farfromstrange]

Hey can I make a Matt Murdock request. It's Matt and reader's wedding day, and Matt remembers how you met in st. Agnes , the little adventures you had and how sister Maggie caught you trying to sneak out which sometimes worked out

I want to apologize for taking so long to write this! I'm so sorry. I just spent the past four hours pouring my whole soul into this because this request was just so beautiful... Like seriously, I have tears in my eyes. I listened to a lot of love songs while writing this, and I hope I could match up with your expectations. Thank you for your request and enjoy! <3

You Are The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: On the day of your wedding, Matt thinks back to your time together at the orphanage.

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. (not proofread though)

Word Count: ~6.8k (oops)

The church bells play an all too familiar tune. It echoes off the high walls that are adorned with colorful paintings and stone sculptures that are as old as time. Clinton Church stands taller than he is, but he doesn’t feel suffocated by it, not today.

Matt Murdock grew up on religion and has lived by his faith in God ever since. He fell into several dark holes over time, but he crawled out of them and he picked himself up again. He played this tiring game for a while. He never felt like he truly belonged anywhere. He was lost. And then you stepped back into his life.

After his father died and he was taken in by the St. Agnes orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt had more than just his grief to deal with. The accident that blinded him a year prior turned his life upside down and no one knew.

His father knew he was blind, of course, but no one knew about how he could suddenly smell or hear much better than before, and that it was worse than the usual enhancement of one’s senses after becoming blind. His senses became heightened to the point he could pick up everything around him with his ears, nose, and hands alone.

It has been the most exhausting experience, especially as a little boy, he thought about giving up many times because it confused him and it made him bitter, and then his father died and the only person he could trust was gone, too.

He felt so utterly alone, he had nightmares, he was traumatized and the children at the orphanage didn’t like him much, either. He was a broken boy, and he had no one to turn to but the sisters taking care of him. But after a while, even that support stopped when more children arrived, and he chose to fight this battle on his own. He didn’t want to bother anyone. He was lonely, but he accepted that he just wasn’t that important and that sometimes, life goes a certain way.

Matt told himself God blinded him for a reason. He tried to find a purpose in his heightened senses and whatever else came with the accident and his father’s wrongful death, but with each passing day in this small bedroom with the church bells ringing in the background, causing his head to spin with their audacity, he lost more and more of the hope he swore himself he would keep. He wasn’t just alone, he adopted this feeling of loneliness and ran with it, turning more and more into an outsider. But he also had nothing to show for himself as the other kids did. He was blind, he was different, and that was never appreciated.

One day though, after spending most of his time hiding away in a corner, listening to the people around him and judging them in his own way, a set of small footsteps approached where he was sitting in the garden behind the orphanage.

He remembers the way your dress brushed against your tights, a sound he found annoying and painful at first, but he quickly got used to it. He remembers how you walked up to him with almost determined steps after Sister Maggie showed you the way and dropped you there for you to explore. He remembers your little sigh when you realized how far away he was from the other kids, but you didn’t turn around and leave when you noticed his black-rimmed glasses or the cane next to him.

You stopped in front of him, and Matt did not once forget the sound of your voice when you first spoke to him, “Is this seat taken?” he remembers you asking, and you sounded a lot nicer than the other children.

He frowned, at first, because he wasn’t used to being talked to. He figured you must be playing with him. But you didn’t stop there.

You chose to sit down next to him, and you smiled when you said, “I like your glasses, by the way.”

He remembers turning his head in your direction, signaling he was listening. You took that as an invitation to introduce yourself. Your name rolled beautifully off your tongue, and he stored it away instantly, along with the sound of your voice.

“I’m Matt,” he chose to tell you.

You smiled even brighter and took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Matt,” you said.

Eight years, that’s how long you stayed. And during those eight years, you became inseparable. He confided in you about his heightened senses, and when Stick came around and left as fast as he had appeared, you were the one who picked up his broken pieces.

The first field trip you took together was to Central Park. The sun was shining brightly that day. Sister Maggie and some of the other nuns accompanied your group, and you quickly found your spot next to Matt. It was the first time he wasn't stuck with an adult during a day out, and he was so flustered, he remembers forgetting his words when your cheery nature found a place next to him.

Your heart has always been a steady sound in his ear, and back then, it grounded him whenever he had to face situations that made him uneasy. Field trips held so many different sensations that overwhelmed him, and he often felt as if his disability wasn't taken very seriously, but with you by his side, he could actually feel the sun on his skin rather than the heavy lump in his throat. He didn't want to cry on the way there; he listened to the beautiful sound of your voice, your laughter, and your excitement both infectious enough to make him smile, and it's something he swore he would always cherish. You had a talent, and he was the only one you used it on.

“Hey,” he remembers you saying when he was hiding away at the back of the group once again. You reached out to gently take his hand. “Don't worry, I'll be your guide today,” you said.

It wasn't pity, you actually enjoyed doing this for him. Even though it was hot outside, he ignored the sweat simply to hold your hand.

“What if…I get lost?” he remembers asking you, and you laughed at that-

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I've got you. Trust me.”

As you strolled through the park, you described everything you saw. You walked him through it the way you saw it, and he imagined how the world looked like through your eyes.

“The sky is so blue, Matt,” you said, pointing upward. “It stretches out like an endless canvas. And the clouds are little white specks of color that take different shapes wherever you look.”

Matt tilted his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “I wish I could see it.” It was the first time he actively admitted it to you, and your heart broke a little.

“But you can feel it,” you instantly tried to make him feel better. “The warmth of the sun on your skin, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair. You can smell the flowers. It's all there. Sight is so overrated, anyway.”

He stored your advice for another day, knowing that you weren't wrong. Next, you stopped near a bed of colorful flowers. You crouched down and reached out, picking one. The scent seemed familiar.

“Close your eyes and breathe in,” you instructed, holding the flower near his nose.

Matt followed your guidance, inhaling the sweet scent. “It's… it's beautiful,” he said.

“You see, Matt,” you said, “Beauty isn't just in what we see. It's in the little things we discover along the way.”

For someone who lost so much, you were a true optimist. You breathed fresh air into his life.

With each step, you continued to describe the vibrant colors, the rustling leaves, and the laughter of children in the distance. Matt's trust in you grew, and he found solace in the world you painted for him.

Of course, he could hear, smell and feel everything down to the smallest detail, but the way you described it was so different from the picture he had painted before, and he let you change his perspective. Your view of the world was much more beautiful than his, and he rather lived in a fairytale than take everything too seriously. With you, he could be himself. That was the first day he came to that realization, and his loneliness slowly started to die out.

That day, as you explored the park hand in hand, Matt realized that his blindness didn't define him. With you by his side, he discovered a newfound appreciation for the world and the beauty that could be found in even the smallest details.

The months passed by and turned into years, and you grew closer as friends. During the times you were allowed to play together, you never left each other’s sides, much to some of the nuns’ dismay, but Sister Maggie was the one who encouraged Matt to tie himself to you so he wouldn’t be as alone, and he gladly did it every time. She saw something in you that he could feel with every one of your fleeting touches and the sound of your voice, and your friendship became a lifeline he kept holding onto. But he was yours, too, which you told him many times before, and he told you he would be more than happy to show you the world through his senses. He made you feel seen and appreciated in a way no one has before, a job he took seriously enough to somehow take permanent residency in your life–but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The summer sun beat down on the small group of children from the orphanage as you made your way to a nearby lake. Sister Maggie never struggled to control the group and she was one of the nicer sisters who allowed you to do silly things others didn't, so you often used that to your advantage.

Being friends with Matt for three years, you gradually figured out who he is, and in return, you revealed parts of yourself. You were the duo most kids feared, which was one of the reasons why the boys stopped picking on him, and the girls had never even dared to say a bad thing about you. Still, you were the weird outcasts who always hung out together; you both prided yourself on that title and often made fun of it.

Laughter filled the air as you excitedly chatted about the day's adventure. Matt walked beside you, his cane tapping gently on the ground. His other hand rested on your arm. He didn't need it, he once admitted to you, but he still felt safer and more grounded, knowing he could hold onto someone in case something happened.

As you approached the shimmering lake, you couldn't help but notice Matt's hesitance. You turned to him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Matt,” you said, nudging his arm playfully. “Remember the promise we made when we were little? That we'd jump in a lake together someday?”

Matt's lips curled into a shy smile. “Yeah, I remember. But… I can't swim,” he said. “What if something goes wrong?”

You patted his back reassuringly. “You're not alone, are you?”

With newfound determination, Matt nodded, placing his trust in you once again. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks as you waded into the lake, the water lapping at your feet.

You turned to Matt, splashing water playfully. “Come on, Matt! The water feels amazing!”

He remembers the goosebumps on his skin, the eagerness in your voice. His uncertainty melted away when you reached out to help him inside somewhere he could stand, and he felt a little less scared about his ability to control the setting. With hesitant steps, he followed you, the soft sand beneath his feet giving way to gentle ripples in the water.

As you both ventured deeper, you guided Matt's hand to your shoulder, urging him to relax and float. “Just trust me,” you said.

Little did you know that he trusted you with his life already.

He took a deep breath, his body relaxing as he felt the water supporting him. A surge of joy filled your heart as you watched his confidence grow. You took his other hand, spinning in the water together, laughter echoing across the lake. He might have been standing on the sandy ground of the lake, but it still reminded him of the times his father took him to the pool. Sharing this moment with you felt… different, but in a good way, and he slowly started to warm up to the idea of enjoying a day in the water. You were always careful with him, and he knew you would never let him drown.

Time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the tranquility of the lake. The other children moved into the background, and Sister Maggie's pleas for you to be careful or even better, get out, met deaf ears as you got lost in each other's eyes. You were only twelve then, but it was like that day changed a lot in the way he felt about you, which is why he remembers that day vividly, still. You made him feel so alive that day, and it's a feeling he still gets whenever he looks into your beautiful eyes.

Matt's voice broke the peaceful silence, barely above a whisper. He said your name softly, something that always managed to make you smile. “This feels… it feels like a dream,” he said.

The warmth of the sun on your face mirrored the warmth in your heart. “No, Matt, this is real,” you told him. “This is our moment. And it's ours to keep.”

As you floated side by side, surrounded by the serenity of the lake, you both realized that this connection, this friendship, was something precious and unbreakable. Life without you seemed like an impossibility to him.

One month turned into twenty-four. You were teenagers, he remembers when your mischief took on a new size. You would appear in front of his door at random hours of the night, tapping on his door three times, before leaning against the wall. He would put on his shoes and grab his cane before making his way outside.

The first time it happened, he hissed at you, “Are you insane?! What if we get caught? Sister Maggie would ground us for the rest of our lives! Oh God–”

You cut him off with a giggle and told him, “We only live once, Matthew, and I am tired of spending every last minute of my life in this place. I wanna live! Please, just trust me. I have a plan.”

And from there on, you would sneak out any other night. You always found spots in nature for you to sit down and talk without people around. You shared stories, laughed, and cried together, and it worked as glue. You became even more inseparable.

Sometimes, you would take him to the lake, sit down with him and describe the night sky to him. You would point out constellations, tell him the meaning behind them and fantasize about life beyond what you could see. He was quick to dispute it because there could only be one God, so there couldn’t be any other universes out there, and once again you only laughed.

You both had a different take on religion; he’s always considered you a dreamer, and you never changed, which he found endearing because you believed in what you wanted to believe in, always. And you made sure you always got what you wanted.

You always snuck past Sister Maggie’s room and made it back in time. It worked almost always, except for the days when someone else was in charge of supervising you, and then you would have to wait until everyone was asleep to tap a steady rhythm against the thin wall of your dormitory.

The sole reason you learned Morse code was to communicate with Matt, knowing he could hear you wherever. In a time before everyone had a cell phone, it was your way of staying in contact.

A few more years passed. You both started maturing, growing up, and going through changes. Life became harder, but you stayed together. Your friendship blossomed, you continued to sneak out, and the one-time Sister Maggie caught you, she simply rolled her eyes and sent you back to your rooms.

That one pivotal night though when you were both sixteen and carefree, the night shimmered with an air of excitement as you sat by the peaceful lake by the orphanage, engrossed in Matt's animated storytelling. His voice had dropped sometime over the past year and it was a sound that would always send shivers down your spine.

He was full of enthusiasm as he shared the details of his latest discovery while he was doing research for a school presentation. You found yourself focused on his hands and his lips rather than the story, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine. When you looked into his eyes, his glasses long discarded, you seemed to realize something, and the silence from your end alarmed your friend.

Amidst the excitement in his voice, a new realization took hold. Matt was more than just your best friend; an undeniable connection went beyond friendship.

Caught amid this realization, you found yourself lost in the features of his face, your mind spinning. Matt's voice trailed off, and he noticed your gaze fixed on him, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Is there something on my face?”

Your mind raced to catch up with your feelings. Without uttering a word, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips against his. It was a spontaneous and slightly awkward first kiss, but Matt remembers every last second of it.

For a moment, the world paused, and you both froze, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. Uncertainty hung in the air, but then Matt's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. He traced your features, and they were so vulnerable and delicate that night.

He remembers swallowing, the panic that sent the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the strange change in the rhythm of your beating heart. “I, uh…” Matt tried to find the right words, but his mind was blank. Your lips left a tingling sensation on his own, and he somehow couldn't comprehend what was happening to his body. It was confusing. “That was… unexpected,” he said.

You felt mixed emotions swirling within you, but the desire to explore this newfound connection outweighed any awkwardness. Without hesitation, you leaned back in and kissed him again, this time more confidently, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

The awkwardness quickly melted away when Matt finally realized what he wanted, too. Your lips moved in harmony, exploring the tender and unfamiliar territory you found yourselves on.

The touch of Matt's lips against yours sent electric currents through your veins, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you.

Eventually, you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed.

“I… I don't know what to say,” he confessed.

You smiled at him. “Do we need to say anything?” you retorted.

Matt remembers the exact moment he realized that he fell fast and hard for you; it wasn't the kiss that proved his feelings for you, it was what happened after. You looked at him, brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and told him, “You're beautiful, Matthew. Inside and out.”

And that was the moment he first knew he loved you more than just a best friend. He would have walked through fire for you, and it was never a doubt in his mind. The realization hit him hard, but he somehow never questioned it. He realized he loved you, and from that moment on, he rolled with it.

Matt remembers that he only acted after hearing you say those words. He told you, “Says the most beautiful girl in this godforsaken place.”

He gently pulled you back into his embrace, his lips finding yours once more. You couldn't even berate him for the blasphemy because he was right, and you smiled against his lips; this was the day you both finally found a home.

A few years had passed since that fateful night by the lake, and your bond with Matt grew stronger.

On this particular night, you found yourselves drawn to the library. The quiet stillness of the space provided a temporary escape.

As you settled into a hidden corner, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the window. You found solace in each other's arms, curled into a corner on the window sill. Matt's arms were wrapped around you and he held you as tightly as he could.

His lips ghosted over yours and you kissed back. He sighed into your mouth, his large hand on your cheek holding you right there. “I wish I could stay with you,” you murmured.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “You know that's not a good idea,” he said.

“Why though?”

“For one, we'd get caught and two,” his hand stopped at your neck, feeling your pulse jump and he sighed, “I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Your cheeks flushed a bright red, and just as you're about to kiss him again (damn his silver tongue), he stops you with the same hand that's on your throat. “Sister Maggie,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to see Sister Maggie standing at the entrance of the library, her expression a mix of surprise, disappointment, and disapproval. The realization of the rules you were breaking washed over you.

You shot up into a sitting position and Matt followed suit. You had never been so ashamed in your entire life.

Sister Maggie's eyes flitted between you and Matt. The disapproving silence hung heavy in the air before she finally spoke.

“You two,” she said. “What on earth are you doing?”

“We, um…” You bit your lip. “We weren't doing anything, I promise!”

Matt quickly adjusted his shirt and agreed, “We're so sorry, sister.”

He remembers faintly how she lifted her finger. “I expected better from the two of you,” she continued. “As young adults, you should understand the importance of adhering to the rules and maintaining appropriate behavior within these walls. And in front of God? I taught you better than that! Up, both of you!”

Neither of you hesitated to get off the window sill. She approached you both. “Now, I suggest you both leave this library immediately and return to your rooms. There will be no further discussions about this matter.”

Her words cut deep, but you tended to forget where you were living sometimes. You exchanged a glance.

“You're lucky it was me who found you,” she said. “Now go! I don't want to see either of you wandering these walls at night ever again, are we clear?”

You nodded wildly. While you said, “Yes, Sister Maggie,” Matt found himself at a loss for words.

Without uttering another word, you followed Sister Maggie's order, slowly making your way out of the library. Each step felt like a punishment, he remembers.

Her actions had made it clear that the boundaries between friendship and romance were not to be crossed within the confines of the orphanage. You had to live with that.

Though once you were out of her earshot, your giggles filled the hallway, and Matt pinched your arm. “It's not funny,” he whispered.

You couldn't help but giggle again. He's always loved how you could laugh about everything. “I know, I know,” you said to him, trying to stifle your laughter. “But the look on Sister Maggie's face… I can't help it.”

Matt shook his head. “You're going to get us into even more trouble if you don't stop.”

You sobered up, realizing the truth in his words, and you both fell into a comfortable silence as you walked back to your rooms. The echoes of Sister Maggie's disapproval still lingered, a reminder of the boundaries that governed your lives.

As you reached the hallway that led to your respective rooms, you paused, facing each other. The dim light from the hallway cast soft shadows on your faces. You longed for him. Just one night with him would have fixed both of your sleep habits and it would have done you good, but you knew you had to part ways. It hurt, but it was a reality you came to live with.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I didn't mean to get us into trouble.”

Matt's expression softened as he reached out to gently touch your cheek. He made sure no one was around so he could touch you one last time, at least. “It's not entirely your fault,” he said. “We both got carried away.”

You nodded. “We should be more careful. We don't want to risk getting separated, do we?”

Never, he remembers thinking. Getting separated had sounded like torture then. “You're right,” he agreed. “We'll have to be more cautious from now on. It's not worth putting our future at risk.”

A mixture of disappointment and longing settled in your heart as you prepared to part ways for the night.

You hoped your relationship could survive this.

With a lingering touch, you both turned and retreated to your respective rooms, the weight of the night's events etching themselves into your memories.

You both knew the boundaries were in place for a reason and though it pained you, you were willing to respect them. You had to. You grew up there. The stolen moments and the unspoken promises would have to find solace in the hidden corners of your hearts until the time was right to let them flourish fully. At least that was what you told yourselves for the following 365 days.

When you turned eighteen and finished school, everything changed. Matt remembers that day as trauma, and maybe it partly was.

One day, as you returned from school, Sister Margaret approached you with a warm smile, handing you an envelope.

“Congratulations, dear,” she said. “A letter from Stanford arrived for you today.”

You froze.

Entering your room, you found Matt sitting on your bed, his head turning toward you as you entered. He sensed the strange weight in your hands, the unshed tears in your eyes, and his smile faded. “What's in your hands?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. Your heart dropped, he could hear it. And that was when you told him, “It’s a letter from Stanford.”

Silence hung in the air as Matt absorbed your words. This wasn't what you had planned together, and his world seemed to stop right then and there.

“Why didn't you tell me you applied?” Matt's voice held a touch of hurt.

Your heart sank, knowing that this was a conversation you couldn't avoid. “I didn't know how to bring it up,” you admitted. “I was scared… scared of what it would mean for us.”

His brows furrowed. “What does it mean for us? Are you planning to leave? We said we’d go to Columbia, why–Is this no longer something you want? Us? You and me, going to college together?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you rushed to explain, “No, Matt, it's not like that! I love you, and I want to be with you. But Stanford… it's an opportunity I've always dreamed of. I don't want to live with regrets if I don't even try. It's… it's a full-ride scholarship, Matty. It's not just an acceptance letter, it's an offer.”

He was happy for you, and in hindsight, he should have reacted differently, but he was so hurt. He looked away, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed. “But what about us?” he asked. “What about the plans we made? We made all these plans for the future…”

Unshed tears glisten in his unfocused eyes, and he could tell it broke you just the same to tell him.

“I don't want to lose you, Matt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The letter weighed heavy in your hands. “But I also can't ignore my dreams.”

“I won't ask you to give up your dreams for me. You know I wouldn't, but… I can't help feeling like you're just going down a path so far from mine, and… it scares me.”

The room filled with a heavy silence. The realization that a difficult decision lay ahead threatened to tear at the fabric of your love. You were so young, so naive, but you have always known just exactly what you wanted.

“I don't want to lose you,” you whispered, repeating your previous sentiment. “Maybe… maybe we can make it work, despite the distance.” Your eyes lit up, but the hope felt tainted. “We can try, right? We can promise to support each other and keep our love alive, even if we're apart.”

Matt's gaze softened. “I want to believe that,” he said, “but it won't be easy. We'll have to fight against the odds. Are we strong enough for that?”

“We'll never know if we don't try,” you said. “We owe it to ourselves to give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath, then opened his arms for you as so often and held you as you cried, not sure if out of sadness or excitement, but that stupid letter to Stanford was bound to change everything.

When you moved away to college, leaving New York and Matt behind, the contact you promised to keep up faded eventually. He got into law school, you made a living for yourself, your calls eventually stopped, no more letters or gifts, and after one particularly rough night of partying, that was it. You ended it.

Eight years washed down the drain because life has funny ways of breaking people apart. At first, Matt was sad, but he learned to move on and eventually became a lawyer, found friends, and moved on the same way you seemed to have done all those years ago.

But there came a time when he least expected it, and you promptly bumped into him in a courthouse in Hell’s Kitchen. Matt recognized you almost instantly from the sound of your voice alone, and even though he grew up and aged like fine wine, you called his name the second you looked into his red glasses.

As you locked eyes, the memories of your past came rushing back for both of you. It was pouring rain outside. Your hair stuck to your face as so did his, but he was still the same Matt from before, only older, and you also hadn't changed much.

“Matt?” you whispered in disbelief.

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, his hand resting on your arm. “Is it really you?” he asked after calling your name.

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you nodded. “It's me,” you replied softly. “I never thought I'd see you again. How- how have you been?”

He told you about his practice, he remembers, and you listened closely. You told him you were proud of him and then you told him about med school and how you were a resident now, but a slot opened up in Hell's Kitchen for a fellowship and you chose to move again. It was fate, almost.

His gaze softened as he listened to your breathing, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips, and the feelings he had pushed down for so long resurfaced. “I thought about you often,” he remembers dropping on you the second he caught his breath again

“I'm sorry,” you whispered back to him. “I let life get in the way, and I let go of something so special. I will never forgive myself for how we ended. I… we… I cared about you, Matthew. It wasn't just some stupid childhood fling for me.”

Matt's hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “We both made mistakes. We should have worked harder, it's not…You're not the only one who fucked up, so…”

You licked your lips. “We were too young,” you said.

“Yeah,” he instantly agreed without missing a beat, “We were. And a little dumb, maybe.”

You chuckled, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his eyes. “I've missed you,” you confessed. “I've missed us.”

“I've missed you too. Us. But especially you.”

The courthouse buzzed with activity around you, the hustle and bustle of lawyers, judges, and clients filling the air. But at that moment, it felt as if time stood still, and it was just the two of you. It reminded you of your childhood when you would spend time at the water together, whispering hushed promises underneath the night sky.

“Let's start over,” you suggested. And then you reintroduced yourself, telling him your name with that wonderful smile of yours, and he was enchanted all over again.

A smile tugged at the corners of Matt's lips, too, as he reached out to take your hand. “Matt Murdock,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”

That was the day everything changed. To think that day lies three years in the past now is something he still hasn’t wrapped his mind around, but fate brought you back together, and after months of pining and him hiding who he truly is to no avail, you finally took the first step.

You accepted that he is Daredevil without second-guessing or being mad at him. You walked through hell with him and you came out on the other side stronger than before, and Matt realized soon enough that he could never love someone as much as he loves you.

And on a beautiful Saturday in June, he asked you to marry him at the same lake you used to hide out as kids. You said yes, of course. He feared for a moment you wouldn’t, but you jumped into his arms as soon as he got on his knees, and the deal was sealed.

Matt can’t see, that is no secret. He thought it might ruin your wedding experience, but you reassured him you didn’t care about whether or not his eyes fell out of his head when you would walk down the aisle. He wishes he could see you in your dress, but he has made peace with the fact he couldn’t.

As he’s standing in the small room hidden away in Clinton Church now, nervously fiddling with the flower stuck to his suit jacket, he can’t help but recall all the little moments you shared while you were growing up, and how fate brought you back together when you both needed it the most. You picked each other up, and you saved each other’s lives.

You asked one of your bridesmaids to tell him to wait right there, and he has been standing there, looking out of the window at the small lake in the distance for a while now. He wonders what you’re doing, but Foggy told him to be patient, so he tries to swallow his curiosity and waits some more.

He never thought he would get married, but he remembers thinking one night as a boy that if he ever got married, he would only get married to you.

As the anticipation builds up, Matt's heart races with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He can hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching, followed by your heartbeat. You smell like flowers and vanilla, and the fabric brushing against your legs sounds soft, almost like his silk sheets.

The door to the small room creaks open, finally, and he holds his breath, bracing himself for the sight he would never be able to see. And then, there you are, standing at the doorway. Your dress, carefully chosen and adorned, flows elegantly around you. It's silk with lace adorning the top, but you made sure that it would feel nice to him and look good on you, still.

Matt's senses heighten when you enter, capturing every detail he can possibly perceive. Most of all though, he memorizes your heartbeat once again and takes a good whiff of the beautiful scent you carry with yourself. You are one hundred percent yourself and he has never been more in love.

Today, you don't have to sneak around or hide away, even though it still feels like it, in this room secluded from everyone else, and his heart races faster when he thinks about how full circle this moment feels.

You take a step closer, your footsteps soft against the floor. You're wearing heels, but you seem to walk comfortably in them. Matt's heart skips a beat when he hears your voice. "Matthew," you breathe. "I'm here."

With a gentle smile, you extend your hand. Matt reaches out, intertwining your fingers. You close in on him until you're right in front of him, and he blinks as if he can't believe it. You remove his glasses, tears already forming in his eyes from how many emotions crash into him, but you don't feel much better. Seeing his brown eyes search yours, you swallow the lump in your throat, and you try not to start sobbing right then and there.

Your pulse jumps under his fingers; he chuckles because it seems ironic that you're more nervous than him, so beautiful and innocent. You're his everything, his world, the reason he's still alive, and he can never repay you for all you've done for him.

His fingertips graze the delicate fabric of your dress. He traces the intricate patterns, feeling the smoothness and intricacy, the silk and the lace. You guide him a little, building up his confidence. He feels the slit that runs down your leg, the garter belt you're wearing, and he swears he might puke. Your face is next, and with that, he takes his sweet time. You close your eyes and let him explore. He cradles you so delicately, almost as if you're a porcelain doll.

His breath shudders. "Fuck," he murmurs. The reality of the moment hits him. The first tear escapes his left eye. He never thought he would have the opportunity to experience something like this, and now he is experiencing it with you, the love of his life. It feels so surreal, he can't breathe.

His voice quivers as he speaks. "You're breathtaking," he says. "I can't even…Jesus, you're amazing."

You choke up too, your lips curling up into a smile. "Don't make me cry," you retort. "You're gonna ruin my makeup, Prince Charming."

He joins in, his hand remaining on your cheek as he takes in the person that you are through his other senses. You feel so much closer like this. You're his and he is yours, forever.

You step closer. Matt's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. He always knows what you want, what you need, and he is more than willing to give it to you unconditionally.

"I love you," Matt whispers into your ear. "I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you until the end of time."

You swallow the tears that threaten to fall. "I love you too. With every beat of my heart. I fell in love with you the second I saw you sitting there all alone," you say. "You're never getting rid of me."

He chuckles. "Oh, sweetheart, that's the reason we're here today in the first place. You don't get one without the other." Matt brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. "You're mine and I'm yours. Always and forever. I promise."

Just as you are starting to get lost in each other's eyes, the door creaks open, and Foggy's voice breaks the moment. "Am I interrupting something here, lovebirds?" he chirps.

You turn to see Foggy standing at the doorway, a playful smirk on his face. Matt releases you from his embrace, and the two of you share a sheepish smile.

"Not at all, Foggy," you reply, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "We were just having a moment."

Foggy chuckles. "Well, don't get too caught up in the moment. Remember, Matt, you can't kiss the bridge until the ceremony. That's what you told me to tell you," he says. "So, take a step back."

Matt rolls his eyes but follows his instructions. "Better?"

Foggy shakes his head. "Further."

"You want me to wait outside? You know this is my bride, right? And I can't even see her."

You laugh. Turning to your husband-to-be, you gently tug at his arm. "Guess you'll have to contain ourselves until then," you say.

“How will I ever manage that?” Matt retorts. “I only waited over a decade to get you back.” Followed directly by a dramatic sigh.

“Exactly,” you and Foggy say at the same time.

You glance at Matt, a silent understanding passing between you. You faced so much together, hand in hand, and this moment would be no different. You’ve never been big on traditions, anyway.

You turn back to Foggy. "We're ready,” you tell him. “And we've decided to walk down the aisle together.”

Foggy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but a smile quickly spreads across his face. "Well, I'll be damned!" he quips. "Leave it to you two to make things even more unique. Less work for me, I suppose. Let's get this show on the road then."

And as you take those first steps together, Matt realizes that you chatting him up all those years ago at St. Agnes was just the beginning of your story.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal

[serendipityrogers]

matt going down on reader for the first time? pls & thank you 🥹💕

he slowly pulls you to the edge of the couch, your ass resting on the edge of the sofa. “are you comfortable?” matt asks, placing your thighs onto his shoulders. you nod your head slightly, but that isn’t enough for him, “i need to hear you say it.” he pushes, giving one of your legs a reassuring squeeze. “yes, matty.” you mumble. “good girl.” his praise makes the tingling sensation grow between your legs, and a small moan passes your lips.

“did you like that, sweet girl? you like when i call you a good girl?” he asks between planting kisses on the inside of your thighs. ”mhmm.” you answered as more of a squeal. his stubble rubbed against the soft skin of your inner thighs, making your entire body flooded with goosebumps. matt took his time, being slow and gentle with you, but the anticipation was killing him. he had been waiting for this moment for months, never wanting to pressure you into starting something you weren’t ready for. but, now you were all his, and not even god could stop him now.

he placed a kiss on the damp fabric of your panties, making your body jerk forward slightly. “so reactive, sweetheart…” his voice creates vibrations against your pussy. “...i love it.” he continued, making a whine pass your lips as the unfamiliar feeling grew inside your stomach. “m-more, please, matty.” you gripped the bunched up fabric of your dress, bucking your hips up slightly. “of course, bunny.” he affirmed, his tongue poking out from between his lips, poking at the fabric, pushing it further against your clit.

finally, using his strong grip, he ripped your panties down your legs, discarding them across the room. the cold air against your soaked cunt made you almost melt, it contrasted against the warmth between your legs. matt spent little to no time returning to his position between your legs. licking a stripe between your folds. your body rocks forward, hands flying to matt’s hair. he took this as a sign to give you even more, “you’re so sweet.” he mumbled against you.

it felt so good, you could feel your eyes brimming with tears. “so-so good.” you murmured,, the tightening feeling in your stomach picking up. and that’s when you felt a new sensation, it was matt’s thumb against your clit, rubbing fast, circular motions into it. using his tongue to explore the rest of your cunt. you were being overstimulated to say the least.

but you could feel yourself clenching around nothing, matt’s name pouring past your lips in a mix of groans and moans. “i-i feel t-tight.” you choked out, confused by the feeling between your legs. “i-in my tummy.” you added, looking down at matt for comfort. “you’re gonna cum, baby.” he explained, a wild smile coming across his face. “matty!” you exclaimed, your orgasm hitting you hard. you had never felt anything like it before, and you weren’t complaining.

[chaithetics]

Would happily take a Matt Murdock request to further procrastinate the dozen Stewy Hosseini fics I've started but will not be finishing today, and to feel 'productive'. I'm terrible, sorry. You're all absolute gems though!

I really enjoyed writing Lean on My Arm as You Break My Heart (my first Matt fic from last year) and I'd love to write more for him! (Yes I cry for Mitski)

[moon-kn1ght]

Sanguine for Matt Murdock? Congrats!

The copper-tinged scent of blood followed Matt everywhere.

Well maybe, it was following Daredevil.

Blood stained most of his undershirts. It marked pillowcases and bedsheets and towels from where cuts reopened, stitches broke. No matter how many times he washed his hands, he could still feel blood crusted underneath his nails.

Matt was almost used to the ever-present smell of blood.

But still, even after scrubbing and scouring, he would lean his ear against the window, sanguine curiosity taking over.

The night calls to Daredevil. The trail of blood will follow.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Here

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt saves his wife from being held hostage by Fisk's men and helps her with the PTSD that comes from it.

From this request from an anon named melted butter!

I hope you like it, anon friend!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, hostage situation, PTSD symptoms, heavy angst in the beginning

Words: 2.7k

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t associate that song with blood, torture, and darkness. 

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t remember the cloth wrapped around her eyes that felt like sandpaper on her skin and the way her head pounded from the tightness of the blindfold. She could still feel it sometimes—unprompted moments of weakness when she would put on a hat or earmuffs in the winter and the feeling of something being wrapped around her head transported her to that awful night. She’d rather leave the beanie and earmuffs at home and risk her head getting cold than be reminded of that torture. 

It was the way she hesitated to put on gloves because if her wrists felt too constricted she would be reminded of the way the rope burned her skin so badly it left scars. She’d leave those at home too, and risk dry and cold hands. 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said earnestly, wrapping his hands around her cold ones. “Your hands are so cold. Why didn’t you put on gloves?”

She didn’t reply—she just let Matt continue to warm her hands with his. She preferred it that way. She preferred him to feel the scars around her wrists than her to look at them. 

Ever since that night, she took the coldest showers. Every shower was an ice-cold one. The place they had her held hostage in was stuffy—hot. She remembers her own sweat dripping down her face and the salt burning her eyes even under the blindfold. She can’t feel too hot anymore or else she will again be transported back to that traumatizing night. 

And the song—that fucking song. 

She wasn’t sure if it was a torture tactic or if the Kingpin had requested it be played. The only thing that mattered was that they kept it on repeat, at a loud volume—so loud she could hardly hear her voice when they would ask her a question about Daredevil. 

“I don’t know,” she cried behind her blindfold. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I—“

SLAP!

The violins started to feel like her head was being woven in torturous ways. The sound filled her senses similarly to how cough syrup fills one's senses—bitterness from the smell to the taste on the tip of her tongue. It was nauseating to listen to the song over, and over, and over, and over again. Nauseating to be in a situation like she had just two months ago: alone, in pain, and scared. So very scared that she may not make it. 

Until he found her. He told her he would always find her. 

She didn’t know he was there until the music finally stopped playing, and the lights in the warehouse went out. She was blindfolded but the way the men started yelling about the lights told her everything she needed to know. She was shaking against the wall, sweating, trying to find that relief she should feel that Daredevil had come to her rescue—but even that couldn’t shake off her fear. 

“If you ever get taken from me,” Matt had whispered to her one night in bed as he fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger, “know I will find you. And when you know I’m there, I want you to whisper to me like I am now. Because I’ll hear you and I’ll come to you.”

She whispered to him as soon as she heard the music stop and Fisk’s men were shouting at each other. 

“Matthew,” she hushed even lower than a whisper, “Matthew. Matt…”

Matt has dealt with a lot of dark situations as Daredevil, even before he donned the name and had a red suit. Years ago, he saved a little boy from a Russian gang. He saved a group of young girls from trafficking. He has dealt with the worst criminals in this city and it never got easier. All he could do was save people. He just never bet on the fact that one day he would have to save her.

It was something they talked about before deciding to get married. After months of convincing himself he could never have a life like that, she told him that God didn’t put him on this earth to only bear other people’s burdens. God meant for him to have a life like everyone else—a life that included love and marriage. He agreed on one condition: that it be an intimate small wedding at Clinton Church. And by intimate, only Foggy, Karen, and Marci were invited. 

He never wanted to prepare for a situation like this. He never wanted this day to come. He never pondered on what protocols to teach her if someone were to take her—but after months of avoiding the subject, he thought that was still important in case the situation ever did come. And unfortunately, it finally did come. 

He remembers how still the apartment was when he came home—how silent and cold it was. She hadn’t been home since the morning, he could tell. Icicles started to form on the back of his neck when he realized he hadn’t received a call from her since she left work—which was over an hour ago. Matt felt weak in the knees suddenly. He had to support himself on the kitchen counter as he focused his senses on noises outside of the apartment. 

“Dear God,” Matt whispered, “please keep her safe until I find her. Please help me find her.”

The whispers didn’t last long, nor the prayers—soon, Matt was throwing a rage in the apartment. Shattered glass was on the floor. Broken plates. Matt’s agonizing scream when reality finally settled in him that she was taken from him—by who? There was only one possibility. 

In no time he changed into his Daredevil gear and was prowling the streets, rooftop to rooftop, to find where they had been keeping her hostage.

A warehouse by the pier. He could hear the classical music playing at an incredible volume, enough to hurt her ears and get in her head. As soon as Matt found the source of the music, he shut it off, along with the power. 

And then he let the devil out. 

He thought with his fists before using logic to fight these cronies—throwing punches and brutally throwing men over his shoulders, hitting them relentlessly with whatever weapon he found near him. His billy club wires wrapped around someone's neck so tight it made them pass out, using the metal billy club to throw right in another man’s face. Matt moved recklessly in the dark. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs so loudly it would feel like his chest was ripping apart but he didn’t because he knew she had experienced enough yelling on this night. 

And then, he heard her. 

“Matthew,” she whispered so quietly, it almost missed Matt’s senses. “Matthew… Matt…”

As soon as he made sure all of the men were out, he rushed to her side. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, he was shaking from it. He knelt before her and took off his gloves. 

“Hey,” he cooed, “it’s okay. I’m here. I found you,” and Matt’s voice was wobbly in his throat, tears threatening his eyes but no—he needed to be strong for her. He didn’t know what she endured—quite frankly, didn’t want to know—but he knew it had been a lot on her mentally. She was sobbing. He’d never heard her like this. The blindfold was wrapped so tightly around her eyes. Matt gently untied it and slid it off. He then smelt something metallic in the air—salty. It was blood. Her blood was around her wrists. Matt choked a sob in his chest as he untied her wrists. He could sense the tight friction of a bruise forming on her cheek. 

“I found you,” Matt’s voice cracked—he couldn’t help it. He was a wreck inside to find her like this. In pain, scared, alone. No—not alone anymore, he was here. “It’s okay now.” He gathered her delicate frame in his arms, holding her against his body tightly but not crushing her, and ran his hands through her hair, hushing her cries. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I have you now. They can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here.” 

Matt wasn’t sure what was more traumatizing for him—finding her in that situation or hearing her cries after, and the months that would follow. 

It made him question if marrying her was the right decision.

Despite these small things bringing her back to that dreadful night, there was one positive thing that she would never forget either: the feeling when she saw Daredevil—Matt—kneeling before her and gently pulling her blindfold off. The warm wash of relief that spread in her chest was so unexplainable, she could only feel it again if she really put her mind to it. It was like a warm, safe embrace when she knew Matt had found her like he said he would. She could describe the sensation as putting on a weighted blanket. 

The image of his red Daredevil helmet is ingrained in her mind: it was him against that dark warehouse. It was the glow of the red mask that brought so much comfort to her. She was safe. He had finally come—finally found her. God knows how hard it was to locate her. She was so relieved, that all she could do was sob into his embrace. 

It didn’t get easier when they finally made it home, it only got harder. 

She lay in his bed with tear-stained cheeks. It hurt to move. It hurt to speak. She could only whisper. Matt was still in his Daredevil suit, helmet off. He paced the room anxiously, wondering how this could’ve happened, how he could have let this happen. He was thinking of every possibility and what he was going to do next—

“Matthew,” she wheezed as she watched him pace the room. “Matthew.”

He stopped instantly, bringing his attention to her. She was in so much pain, he could sense it from where he stood. It brought a strange heaviness on his shoulders. He knelt again beside the bed and took her hands in his, kissing each knuckle.

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered, tears falling down his cheeks—tears of sadness, tears of rage. “I’m so sorry—“

“Shh,” she hushed him. She wasn’t crying anymore. She didn’t think she had any left. “Just be here with me. I need to feel you here with me.” 

Matt took off his Daredevil suit and silently crawled into bed next to her. He carefully brought her close to him so she was snug against his chest. Safe in his arms, nothing could hurt her now.

Months have passed. It’s a bright cold day. 

She and Matt are on their way to their favorite coffee spot uptown. They hardly ever leave Hell’s Kitchen, but she was in the mood for a specific hazelnut latte that only Rosie’s could make. And if it would make her happy to travel almost twenty minutes uptown for a cup of coffee, well, Matt wasn’t going to argue. 

He never brought up that night unless she did. So when she opted to wear a beanie and put on gloves, Matt couldn’t help but feel lighter in his step from the happiness he felt: she was on her way to healing from that experience. He felt like he could forgive himself now. 

“Ready?” She asked at the door, clearly too excited to get this cup. Matt laughed and kissed her before answering. He was so incredibly happy that she seemed to be happy again. 

“Ready.”

The coffee shop had wooden floors and matching wooden tables. In the back was a small bookstore, and on the side the place had a coffee counter. Soft jazz music was playing. Some people were already settled in: a man had his headphones on and was typing aggressively on his laptop, and a young college girl was studying her books. Matt sensed his surroundings everywhere they went to make sure there were no threats.

“Why don’t you go look at the books while I order our coffee,” Matt suggested lightly, untying the gray scarf around his neck. 

“Okay,” she smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go and exploring the back of the cafe. 

Matt waited in line at the coffee counter and sighed contently. 

She immediately was drawn to the fantasy books section. She took off her gloves and placed them in the pocket of her coat. Scanning each title, she picked one out that piqued her interest and frowned when the summary wasn’t what she expected. Another title made her laugh, but she didn’t bother to read the back. She found herself in a different section—romance. She smiled as she glazed over each book spine with her fingers. Romance books always reminded her of Matt. She often imagined what their story would look like in a romance novel. 

And then she heard it. 

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

The violins sounded like nails on a chalkboard, bloody fingertips leaving a trail. It sounded like a screech against the pavement. 

It suddenly felt like she no longer was standing in the middle of an aisle of books. Instead, her body was being pulled and sucked into a black hole behind her. Everything around her felt overwhelmingly large and she was small, like she was Alice. Fear crept over her heart like a spider weaving its web. She felt hot in her jacket. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest like a punching bag. 

The song got louder. And louder. And louder. 

“No,” she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tightly. But closing her eyes and seeing darkness only made it worse. “No…” she opened her eyes and felt like she had tunnel vision. 

Matt was standing in line when he heard something pounding loudly in his ears. It only took him a second to hear the song that was playing, and he was immediately looking around for her. The pounding was coming from her—from her heart. 

In no time Matt was by her side, wrapping his arms around her and quickly walking her outside the cafe—away from the lingering glances, away from that horrible song. Removing her from the triggering situation, knowing she was spiraling. 

She was breathing fast now from panic. Matt brought her into a quiet alley and wrapped her in a bear hug, holding her tightly against him. Her hair covered his face as he turned to breathe in her scent. He took a deep breath, and at the same time, motioned for her to breathe with him. 

“I’m here,” he said into her ear softly, “I have you. Breathe with me, okay?”

“Okay,” she managed to say between breaths, feeling like her own air was choking her. She breathed with Matt and closed her eyes, his touch and warm hug bringing her back to reality. 

“Listen to my voice,” Matt guided, “I’m here. I have you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt’s voice was always soothing to her, but especially at a moment like this. His voice sounded like how velvet felt. 

Eventually, just standing in his arms holding her tightly, her breathing returned to normal and that song was out of her head, as were her memories of that night. A few silent moments passed. Matt kissed her head softly and held her longer. He’d hold her for as long as she needed. When she was finally okay, she pulled back and reached her lips to kiss Matt’s. He kissed her in return and placed his hands on her face. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” Matt whispered. 

Matt went inside to get their coffee while she waited for him outside. Soon enough, they were back at the apartment, finishing the last of their drinks and sitting on the couch. She rested her head in his lap and Matt drew circles in her hair, counting the breaths it took for her to fall asleep. He’d of course be there when she woke up. 

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

-

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 

"Matt?" 

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

[0ctober-writes]

Hello, have a smut Matt X wife reader request. You are part of Nelson and Murdock and have your own office, there you have dirty thoughts, but this does not go unnoticed by Matt who really has to pull himself together not to storm into your office

Behind Closed Doors and Paper-Thin Walls

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, Reader is thirsting hard, Foggy is an innocent bystander. Potential reference to switch!Matt and switch!Reader if you squint, Matt has a cock, Reader has a pussy; oral, p-in-v, bondage, and pegging/bottom!Matt fantasies. Part 2 potential if it's wanted. No use of Y/N. 2,761 words.

The only thing that separated you and your husband, Matt Murdock, was a papery-thin wall and a cracked window.

You sat at a desk in the main room in the office, prepping Wednesday’s case file for Matt and Foggy. With every trial the law firm only got bigger and bigger, and they desperately needed help planning cases. In the other room, Foggy’s office, the duo were on the phone with some-such or another. It apparently wasn’t going well because you could hear Foggy slam close his desk drawer. You huffed yourself, not exactly in the mood to deal with two very grumpy men, no matter how professional they maintained.

Matt walked out of the office, hands running through his hair. He made a beeline to the coffee pot, hoping to drown his woes into a cheap brew. Of course, it had been emptied by the three of you in the morning, so he went to work looking for the ground beans.

“Sounds like you guys are dealing with a nightmare,” you said. You stood from the desk to help him find the coffee, fetching the bag from one of the top shelves. “Let me make your coffee so you can breathe for a minute.” You knew you didn’t have to do this, Matt was capable of making his own drink no matter his mood, but you wanted to alleviate his stress in any way you could. 

“You don’t have to do that, honey, I got it,” Matt objected, going to take the bag from you only for you to snatch it from his reach.

“I know, now go sit down. I love you,” you said, throwing out the old filter and putting a new one in the brewer.

Matt obeyed, quickly accepting a chance to be doted on. He sagged into one of the chairs by the entrance door, loosening his tie and leaning back with a sigh. You glanced over for just a second to check on him, but stopped all movement when you saw him. Disheveled hair from running his hands through it, loose tie, head leaned back… it was a position all too familiar to you. You coughed to keep yourself from whining, a blush rushing to your face and running down your neck.

You tried to keep your thoughts from trailing off the task, telling yourself that you were at work, Matt was in a bad mood, and Foggy is literally right there. Like playing tug-of-war with a team of oxen, you quickly fell down the horny rabbit hole. Your mind flashed with images of all the times the two of you had fucked at work–when you were still the newbie, after a date night that turned into a work night, the week before your wedding–there were definitely a dozen more examples, but those stood out to you the most. Your thighs squeezed together, suddenly so desperate to touch yourself. You hoped Matt would be too distracted to notice your sudden change in mood.

Matt didn’t notice at first, too caught up in his own whirlwind of thoughts, only none of them were anything like yours. It was only when the coffee pot beeped, alerting that it was finished, that the two of you were ripped from your trances. With shaky hands you filled a mug. Still oblivious, not paying attention to anything beyond how the hell he was gonna get his client to cooperate, he took the cup from your hands. It was when he felt the small tremors in your fingers that he perked up. 

At first he thought you were upset, considering that he’d let his bad mood rub off on you, but that possibility was almost instantly eliminated when he took in the rest of you. Your hands had been abnormally warm, your heartbeat stuttering and speeding up, and that smell he knew all too well. You were needy, for whatever reason, and he knew you were already wet.

You gulped, fiddling with your skirt. “Anything else I can do to make it easier?” You asked, trying your hardest to keep your tone appropriately concerned and not desperate. Matt’s eyebrows were furrowed together–god fucking damn it, he was so hot–like he was still frustrated from what happened earlier. No, little did you know, he was trying to figure out how you got so aroused in between the time he left Foggy’s office and now, unless he’d somehow missed it even earlier.

Matt hummed an indication of no, taking a drink of the coffee to ground himself for totally different reasons. “Thank you, I really appreciate this,” he said.

You bit your lip, deciding to lean down and give him a chaste kiss to his lips. Just a taste, that’s all you wanted, all you needed, you told yourself. He eagerly returned it, reaching up to rest his hand on the side of your neck to let you know he didn’t want you to pull away. He was trying his hardest to control himself, but you were so tempting, and you always knew all the right ways to destress him. 

An awkward cough echoed in the room and you jumped, pulling away from Matt despite a quiet huff from him. There Foggy stood, clearly still annoyed, but definitely not at you two. “Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but I heard the coffee. Matt, hands to yourself, buddy,” he said lightheartedly. He’d walked in on much worse in his three years of knowing you.

With a blush, you licked your lips, trying to savor the lingering taste of your husband. You glanced one last time at Matt before you walked back to your desk and pretended to get back to your work. He definitely knew.

“How you holding up, Fog?” You asked, flipping between the same two pages in the case file like that would exorcize your brain.

“You do not want to know, this guy is probably as big of a nightmare to work with as Castle. He’s not telling the truth about something, I just know it, and it’s making this a whole lot harder than it has to be!” Foggy freely ranted, pouring his coffee much closer to the top than was safe for your floors.

You tried to be sympathetic, you really did, but your will was not that strong and your cunt was soaking your panties. You thought back to last night, when Matt’s cock hitting the back of your throat satisfied every part of you. He was so thick, stretching your lips more than you ever thought you could handle before you met him, and the feeling of him throbbing against your tongue had you whining around his cock. When you finally had him cumming down your throat, it was your turn, Matt throwing you back on the bed so he could worship you between your legs until you couldn’t stand to cum anymore and then some.

“Okay, I know the first two pages aren’t that interesting,” Foggy teased. “If you’re bored you can do something else, you’re not bound to this case forever.”

God, he really should’ve said anything else, because now you were picturing tying Matt’s wrists together, riding him and taking care of him after a long day of bullshit. Leaving scratches down his chest, feeling his hand wrapping around your neck, and forcing his cock as deep as it can go inside of you... The warmth in between your legs exploded into tingles and your face got hotter with each passing fantasy.

Matt tried his hardest to keep himself together, focused entirely on tuning in to your body. He sensed every little reaction, could hear your thighs rubbing and squeezing together behind your desk. He wished Foggy was anywhere but here right now so he could touch you in all the ways you so desperately craved.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, guess I’m not all the way here right now,” you said, brushing off Foggy’s comment, “maybe I need some of that coffee for myself.”

“I got it!” Matt rushed, all too eager to serve you. Foggy rolled his eyes at how lovestruck Matt always seemed to be for you, but deep down he found the pair of you adorable. You were like the power duo, a classic Romeo and Juliet–minus the family feud, the weird age gap, and the suicide.

You slyly stared as Matt poured you a cup. Your eyes trailed up and down his body, taking your time when they landed on his ass. A shiver ran up your spine as you pictured him bent over for you, maybe over your very desk, presented and waiting for you to fill him up. It was a fantasy you’d discussed before, even planned to try out soon, because recently he’d been obsessed with the idea of you fucking him. Using one of your dildos, stretching him out, and filling him up in ways no one else ever had, touching him in ways he’d never let anyone else even think about. 

“Thanks, hon,” you said when Matt brought you your coffee. “I’m gonna go finish these up in my office, okay? Let me know if you guys need anything.” You were hoping with a little more privacy you could ease the ache a little bit. You pecked Matt on the cheek and entered your little sanctuary, adorned with a cat calendar and a couple dying succulents.

You closed the door and plopped the small stack of files on your desk. You sat in your rolly chair and leaned back with a sigh that was somewhere between relief and frustration. You pushed your lap all the way under the desk to ensure a little more modesty. You ran your fingers over the front of your skirt at first, letting the small tingles run their way through your body. There was no way Matt couldn’t hear you right now, but part of you was hoping that he was getting as riled up as you were. 

Meanwhile, Matt was trying his best to split his attention between you and Foggy, with you clearly dominating. Even with Foggy’s loud ranting and raving about the woes of their client, all he could hear was your shuddering breaths and the rustling of your skirt. The picture was almost crystal clear: you leaned back against your chair, skirt hiked up to your waist, and hand shoved down your panties. He could feel a warm flush of his own traveling lower and lower.

“You know what I mean?” Foggy finished, almost out of breath after his long winded soapbox. Matt quickly snapped out of his trance.

“Hm? Yeah, this guy’s a nightmare, Fog. Hey, why don’t you go on a walk to clear your head?” Matt suggested. He was hoping and praying to every Saint above that he would just leave the office already so he could get his hands on you.

“Maybe later. Let’s just get this done today, I’m sick of this case,” Foggy said.

Deep down, Matt was crying on the inside.

You were too, but for a totally different reason.

Your skirt was well up past your hips and your panties pulled down to stretch across your thighs. Your fingers are slowly stroking the length of your clit to really tease yourself. A shiver reverberates across your body and you let out a small moan. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as Matt’s fingers, but you’re still left melted against your chair.

Matt’s legs are crossed in a desperate attempt to hide his erection from his best friend. He gulps when he can hear a shaky whine slip past your lips. He has to grip the arm of his chair to keep himself grounded.

You’re not oblivious to the effect you’re having on Matt, though you can’t actually see or hear him. Instead you use your imagination. He’s probably fiddling with his tie, one of his nervous habits. His breathing is probably getting heavier, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and hard cock straining against his dress pants–you throw a hand over your mouth the stifle a moan. Your fingers start rubbing tight circles against your clit, sometimes dipping down to tease your hole every once and a while.

Matt felt like his skin was on fire at this point. How Foggy hadn’t noticed him dying in his chair was beyond him. He was barely able to grit out brief answers to whatever bullshit was being discussed. He could practically taste you from across the office.

You were using both hands at this point, one hand fingering your cunt and the other stroking your clit. You could feel the orgasm building up as your clit pulsed and throbbed from your touches. Flashes of Matt danced across your closed eyelids. Memories of him fucking you up against these very walls, his cock impossibly deep inside of you while you scratched at his back. Him dropping to his knees to tongue fuck your pussy from under your desk while you completed work. You teasing your poor husband as he begged you to finally let you cum after denying him for the third time. 

Your heart was pounding against your ribs and you could hardly catch your breath. Your fingers pounded against your spot relentlessly. You were surprised you could stay as quiet as you had been, yet Matt could still hear everything. Your labored breathing, your racing heart, the wet noises of your cunt. He was gripping his knee, so desperate for you, he could hardly stand it. He could tell you were close and that made it all the more painful. He should be the one driving you to the edge, not your hands.

It hit you suddenly, the first wave of your orgasm. The hand rubbing your clit flew up to cover your mouth once more while you fingerfucked yourself through each and every wave of euphoria. You whimpered Matt’s name under your breath as quietly as you could, knowing that it would rile him up even more. It worked, Matt’s cock leaked precum into his boxers.

Once the final wave passed, your muscles collapsed and you sagged against your chair. You pulled out your fingers and limply laid your hand against your thigh. You took deep breaths to ground yourself. You wished Matt was here to help you clean up.

Matt could hear that your breathing had slowed and the wet sounds of your fingers slipping in and out of you had ceased. He matched your slow, deep breaths to bring himself down as much as possible. His cock still painfully throbbed and the flush on his neck refused to go away.

The sound of your clothes rustling, then your office door opening, alerted Matt that you were going to the bathroom to clean up. He lamely excused himself from Foggy and rushed to meet you on your way there. When he stepped out into the main room, you stopped just at the bathroom door and waited for him. He made his way over to you and stood close, nearly right up against you.

“You know I heard that,” Matt breathed into your ear. You couldn’t resist shivering.

“I know, baby. I’m surprised you were able to keep yourself together,” you teased back.

“You know you’re paying for that when we get home, right?”

Your heart jumped at the implication. What did Matt have in store for you? Would you fuck you the minute the two of you passed the threshold, shoving you against a wall and taking what was his? Or would he take you to bed and tease you, going tortuously slow. Would he deny you, making you wait to cum the way you made him wait? Would he refuse to stop, making you cum over and over again until you were shaking and couldn’t cum anymore? Your cheeks burned bright red from all the possibilities.

While you were stuck in thought, Matt gently took the hand that had been inside of you. He raised it up to his lips and slowly took them in his mouth. His tongue swirled around each finger to catch any of your cum that he could. You whined without thinking, definitely too loud to be discreet. Matt slowly pulled your fingers out with a quiet ‘pop’ and dropped your hand back down.

“Just needed a taste, sweetheart,” Matt teased through his grin. “Go clean up and I’ll let Foggy know we’re going home early.”

“Fuck, okay Matt,” you replied. You rushed into the bathroom and all but slammed the door behind you, nervous and excited for whatever your consequences might be.

[chvoswxtch]

i had an idea for matt but idk if it was good but reader who is matt’s neighbor and she always drops stuff off for him like a new first aid kit and food because she knows he’s daredevil and matt has no idea who does it till he catches her one day

like super fluffy

hi nonnie!

I actually LOVED this idea and thought it was super cute, so thank you so much for requesting it! 💘

warning: slight angst, cavity inducing fluff word count: 2.7k

[part two]

care packages

The first time it happened, Matt hadn’t thought much of it. He simply thought he’d placed an order that he had forgotten about, tossed the package containing a first aid kit and other items into his bathroom, and called it a day. Ever since taking down Fisk, the caseload at Nelson and Murdock had nearly quadrupled, and all the remaining crime lords in Hell’s Kitchen were competing for the vacant throne. Needless to say, Matt hadn’t been sleeping more than usual, and if you asked him what day it was, he probably couldn’t even tell you.

But then it happened again. And again. And again. And again.

Every couple of weeks, a new package arrived at Matt’s door, and the contents varied with each box. Some of them contained first aid kits, bottles of ibuprofen, other over the counter medications, ice packs, epsom salts, and various other supplies. Other times there were carefully packaged homemade dishes and freshly baked treats. Foggy and Karen both swore it wasn’t them, and even inspected the packages on Matt’s behalf. There wasn’t ever a note left, or anything written on the boxes, so none of them could figure out where they were coming from. Foggy lit up like a child on Christmas morning every time Matt entered the office with a new batch of goodies, and Matt couldn’t deny how nice it was to have a break from all the takeout. Whoever was leaving the packages was an excellent cook, and an incredibly skilled baker, but not knowing who was leaving the packages or why was driving Matt absolutely insane. 

Between both of his hectic lives, he didn’t have much time to investigate where the packages were coming from. He had asked his neighbors on a whim if they had seen anything, but they didn’t have a clue either. On the rare occasion when Matt did have an off day, he camped out on his couch in anticipation, hoping the next care package would arrive while he was home. 

But it never did. 

Karen had suggested leaving his business card taped to his front door, making the argument that it had his name and phone number on it in case whoever it was felt brave enough to contact him. But Matt was hesitant, because he wasn’t sure if the person leaving the care packages was leaving them for him, or for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and the latter made him nervous. He had no idea if they had made the connection, and he didn’t want to make it for them. 

For two months, Matt drove himself completely crazy trying to solve the mystery. 

By some miracle, or the grace of God, Matt was home at a normal time one Thursday evening. He was in the kitchen loosening his tie and reaching for a beer in the fridge when he smelled it. A familiar scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that had been infused with cinnamon and nutmeg. The exact same chocolate chip cookies that had been left in front of his door four times in the past two months. The ones Foggy had dubbed, “crack cookies”. They were, in his defense, highly addictive.

Matt instantly froze, focusing solely on the sound of light footsteps approaching his door from the side of the hallway by the stairwell. The person’s heartbeat was steady, and they were humming softly to themselves as they bent down to place the package directly in front of Matt’s door. Matt abruptly slammed his fridge shut, racing towards his front door to fling it open like a madman, nearly tearing it off the hinges in the process and earning a shocked gasp from you as you were still knelt in front of his door.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, noting the sharp uptick in rhythm of your heart rate as you stared wide eyed up at him, fingers gripping tightly onto the sides of the container. For a moment, neither of you said anything, until the scent of cortisol creeping into your bloodstream snapped Matt back into focus.

“Are…are you the person that’s been leaving these?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you swallowed thickly as you gave a slight nod of your head.

“I…um…yeah.”

Your voice was timid and quiet as it came out, and there was something familiar about it. There was also something incredibly familiar about your scent, but Matt couldn’t quite place it. Your heart was thundering loudly in Matt’s ears, and he could hear the anxiety in every shuddering breath you took in. As his tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips, he slowly extended his hand out towards you.

“Do you…will you come in?”

Glancing between Matt’s outstretched hand and the dish in your own, you stared up at him silently for a moment. It suddenly occurred to him that his reaction might have made you more tense than the fact that you had been caught, and he pulled his lips into a gentle half smile.

“I’m not upset. I just…want to talk to you, if that’s alright?”

His words seem to put you at ease, and you carefully placed your hand into his own, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. Matt liked how soft your hand felt in his own, and he reluctantly let go to step back to grant you space, gesturing for you to come inside. After closing his door, he followed you cautiously into his living room, tuning all of his senses into you as you turned around to face him while still clutching the dish in your hands. There was something recognizable about you, but Matt for the life of him couldn’t place what it was.

“Um…I guess the obvious first question is…why you’re leaving all these care packages?”

Matt kept his voice even and gentle, not wanting you for a second to think that he was upset. As far as he could tell, you were leaving them with genuine intentions, and while that warmed his heart, he still wanted to know why. He caught the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth and tilted your head to stare down at the dish in your hands, taking in a deep, shaky breath before answering.

“Because you saved my life.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly in surprise, cocking his head to the side slightly as he took a step closer towards you and fixed his gaze in your direction with an expression of confusion. 

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve represented you-”

“You were wearing a different suit.”

Matt’s entire body instantly went rigid. You did know who he was. Panic started to rise in his chest, and his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with some kind of lie or excuse to protect his identity.

“I…I don’t…I t-think you must have me confused with someone else-”

“Those men didn’t just want to rob me. They wanted to hurt me. They followed me home from that bar and pulled me into that alley. If you…hadn’t shown up when you did, they probably would’ve killed me, or left me there after they did what they really wanted to. I…I’m honestly not sure which would’ve been worse.”

Matt stilled hearing the way your voice trembled, tasting the fear that built in the corners of your eyes as the memory sent a shiver cascading down your spine. Suddenly it all clicked into place. That’s why he remembered you. He recognized your voice because he remembered hearing your frenzied cries for help from the rooftop. He recalled the scent of you lingering beneath his nose while he held you comfortingly to his chest as you gripped onto his shoulders, begging him not to leave you alone in the dark. After taking care of the men that had attacked you, he’d waited with you until the cops came, doing his best to keep you calm and reassuring you that you were safe. 

Your name tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

“Y/N.”

He remembers asking for it that night. He remembers repeating it back to you soothingly, enjoying the way it tasted on his tongue while wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers. He remembers the sweet melody of your voice as you thanked him endlessly, and the way you struggled to let go of his hand once the police arrived and he had to disappear into the darkness.

He noted the way your lips tugged into the faintest of smiles as you nodded.

“You remembered.”

Matt had wanted to find you, as himself, to offer you legal representation if you wanted to build a case. But with things being so hectic lately, he never got the chance. Another wave of confusion settled over his features when he took another step forward towards you. 

“Wait, but how did you-”

“I live in this building. I saw you on the roof about a week later.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly at your words, giving a slight nod of his head to encourage you to continue. 

“I was up there kinda late one night. There was a lunar eclipse that was supposed to be visible at a certain time, and I wanted to see it. I saw you. You disappeared through that door on the roof, and I thought it just went to a stairwell, but none of the stairwells I found led to that same door. I kinda put it together that it only led to your apartment…and it wasn’t that hard to figure out which one was yours from there.”

“So…you didn’t…know that I was-”

“No. I didn’t know who you were, not really. I never saw you again after that. I just…you looked like you were hurt that night. I wanted to do something…something to help you. I felt like I owed you.”

Matt pursed his lips as he shook his head quickly, letting a dry chuckle escape his mouth.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life.”

Matt paused at the sincerity in your voice, noticing that it came out a lot firmer as you spoke those words. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides as you let out a soft sigh, turning around to place the dish of cookies on his coffee table.

“Look, I’m sorry if I…I freaked you out or anything. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice for you since you saved me. I figured you probably go through a lot of first aid kits and don’t have much time to cook with your busy night job.”

Matt chuckled softly as a light smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, placing his hands on his hips as he followed your movements.

“That’s an understatement. Can I…can I ask…why you didn’t say anything? I mean, you never knock or leave a note or anything.”

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and shrugged lightly as you fiddled with a ring around your finger.

“I told you, I didn’t wanna freak you out. I’m sure you wear the mask for a reason. I…wanted to respect your privacy. Look, you don’t owe me anything, certainly not an explanation. You don’t have to tell me anything at all, and I would never tell anyone about this, I swear.”

The steady, strong rhythm of your heartbeat had Matt’s chest swelling with gratitude. He knew you were telling the truth. 

“I believe you.”

There was a faint smile pulling at your lips as you stared at him, and Matt desperately wanted to know what you saw, and what you were thinking. He didn’t think it was a coincidence someone like you had fallen into his lap. He didn’t believe in coincidences. But he did believe in divine intervention. What were the odds of him saving your life, being your neighbor, and the recipient of your unwavering kindness and genuine understanding? 

“I…I’m not a doctor, or a medical professional by any means, but I do know my way around a first aid kit. I’m also a horrible insomniac, so I’m usually awake at ungodly hours throughout the night. If you ever…need…or want any help, I just live a floor down. I’m in 5C.”

“I…thank you. And thank you for all of the care packages.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Matt felt his cheeks heat up at the candor in your voice. He didn’t get thanked often for what he did every night, not that the praise was his main motivator, but they were still two words he didn’t hear all that much. The people he took down certainly weren’t thanking him for sending them to prison, and sometimes the people he saved were in too much shock to speak, or he had to take off before he got caught by the cops. But something about the way the gentle inflection of your voice dripped into his ears like honey had warmth spreading throughout his entire body. He took another careful step towards you, extending his hand once again for you to take as his lips parted into a tender smile.

“Matthew. My name is Matthew.”

His heart started to beat a little faster feeling the way your mouth pulled into a smile of your own, reveling in the feeling of your soft hand slipping into his once again, fingers delicately curling around the bottom of his palm.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matthew. Officially.”

Matt keened at the way his name sounded falling from your lips, and he gave your hand a faint squeeze.

“It’s nice to meet you officially as well, Y/N.”

He didn’t miss the way your heart jumped slightly when he repeated your name, or the fact that neither one of you seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand.

“You know, my partner is going to be beyond excited that I’ve finally found the person responsible for those amazing cookies.”

Matt’s chest expanded with pride feeling the rise in temperature across your cheeks, lips parting slightly as your soft giggle hit his ears.

“Nice of you to share, Matthew.”

A wider smile tugged across his lips hearing you say his name again. He lightly stroked his thumb across your knuckle as he shrugged.

“I thought at first one of them was doing it, but neither of them are as good of a cook or a baker. You’re a hit in our office, by the way.”

“I am?”

“They ask me everyday if I’ve gotten a new care package. Obviously the edible ones are their favorite.”

Another soft giggle slipped past your stretched lips, and Matt found himself inching closer to the sound as heat spread down your neck and across your chest.

“They…they know, too?”

“They do.”

“Well, then they’re just as deserving.”

Matt found himself completely in awe of you, wondering how he had managed to find an angel when he walked the path of the Devil. 

“Can I…can I take you to dinner? To say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me-”

“I want to. You’ve provided me with a ton of dinners lately. I’d like to treat you to one.”

Matt angled his head to the side slightly as he listened to your heart’s tempo increase, enjoying the way you delicately tightened your hold on his hand as you took in a shaky breath.

“Well, how can I refuse my savior?”

“You can’t. It’s against the law actually.”

A large grin spread across your mouth at Matt’s playful tone, peering up at him with curiosity.

“Are you a lawyer, Matthew?”

“I am.”

An incredulous giggle escaped your mouth as your brows knit together in the center of your forehead.

“So, wait…lawyer by day, vigilante by night? How does that work, exactly?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

Matt chuckled softly as you giggled, resisting the urge to reach his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear like he had done the first night he met you. 

“So, Friday night?”

“You know where to find me.”

“I do, now.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

Sundays (Matt Murdock x reader)

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, religion (they go to church) very very fluffy, husband Matt, this one the poll but new one shot out soon

It was your favorite type of day. A Sunday, because no daredeviling on Sundays. Unless there was something especially serious he heard going on. You shift your weight so that you can shuffle in between his legs looking at your husband. He looks so majestic laying there naked with only a sheet covering his lower half. You weren’t quite modest yourself with only a sheet covering your body as well. Since you both had been just married less than 3 weeks, you were still in the phase where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. It wasn't always intimacy times. But Matthew would always be there touching you in some comforting way reminding you he was always by your side. Weither it was a hand on your knee or holding hands with him as you were his “sighted guide”. When really he just used that as an excuse to show you off in public. His hand never left yours. Today was one of those days.

he looked like a sleeping angel not daredevil. His chest was cut from marble and an expression of peice was on his face you barely see. Shifting yourself in between his legs closer, bare chests pressing up against each other separated by only a silk sheet. A reminder of the gift he gave you last night. You lean in to him and give a long lingering kiss. It was soft upon his plump rosy lips and his eyes fluttered open. His sightless eyes gaze upon yours and you break the sweet kiss.

“Hello Mrs. Murdock” he says in his sleepy deep morning voice that makes your knees weak.

Hes never missed an opportunity to call you that in the last 3 weeks. You give him another sweet kiss and he hums. His hands stroking your hair. You slip between the silk sheets so that your warm bodies could press up against each other, though there is nothing sexual about it this time you weren’t in the mood you were just affectionate and he could tell. That smile hadn’t left his face since the two of you were married.

“hello my pretty little devil” you scratch underneath his chin and he leans into it making a small noise of pleasure at the gesture.

“hmm. It’s Sunday would like to come to church with me.” He asks still in a happy bliss “I’d rather not go alone”

you think for a bit,. Matthew’s been going through a rough time lately a really hard time. And god, if there wasn’t anything you’d do to please this man. You never want him to have to be alone again. You knew how much his religion meant to him. And church with Matthew is actually quite enjoyable the times you’ve been with him.

“of course I’ll go with you my love.” You whispered softly to him. He beams at you in return. That smile that hasn’t left since they had the small wedding. ”you should probably get dressed though. Would be a bit distracting.” he teases in a low chuckle

you crinkle up your nose and tease him back “so should you ‘good-catholic lawyer-boy’”

you rumple his hair before rising from his warm embrace to go to your closet. You find something nice to wear and Matthew goes for his normal suit. As he gets dressed you do admit ok yes you starred at his ass the whole time.

he gives a knowing devilish smirk you know all to well as he buttons up his shirt. You silently mourn the loss of staring at his abs “you know I may be blind sweetheart but i can sense you starring” he says with his signature charm.

“well we’re married now, I’m allowed to look at my husband aren’t I?” You say before light giving his ass a smack. You just couldn’t help yourself.

once the two of you are dressed he looks incredibly handsome even with more clothes on, he starts tapping his cane and each way as you two walk on the sidewalk together. Your hand however finds his and intertwines your other hand resting on his shoulder so you can guide him. Knowing that he trusts you even if it’s partly to keep his cover. He stops, smiles at you practically beaming and folds up his cane. The two of you resume your walk to Clinton church. The weather was incredibly nice, the flowers on the windowsills were blooming and the sun was beaming down. A pleasant breeze made the day just the right temperatures. you know even you could smell the sweetness of spring in the air and you didn’t have enhanced senses. You wonder what it’s like for Matt.

You break the comfortable silence as the two of you walk together. “you smell that? It’s my favorite flower”

“I don’t smell lavender y/n”

“oh you remembered, well yes that is my first favorite flower because of the scent but my second favorite is honeysuckle” you explained as the two of you stroll basking in each other’s company.

“Oh, I love that scent too. But sweetheart it’s an invasive plant.” He chuckles good naturedly. The scent of honeysuckle fills his lungs on this Sunday morning. If Amber thought she could smell the sweetness it was nothing compared to his. The way it weaves around his mind fogging it up with pleasant memories of when y/n would wear her citrus and honeysuckle perfume. It truly is a beautiful day. Nothing seems to be going wrong at the moment there isn’t a crime he hears. Or maybe it’s just in the warmth of y/n’s company the terrible sounds and shrieks of the city were muted. He always seemed calmer in her presence.

“We’re here, Clinton church” you read for him

“and on time” he kissed your joined hands before you both step into the church together. The darkness takes a bit for you to adjust to the light in contrast to the brightness of outside. Not that Matthew would mind, you giggle in your head. It truly is a beautiful place with high ceilings and candles lit, it has stained glass windows with beautifully colored pictures made of glass upon it. Y/n especially appreciated these. The way the sunlight of spring catches the stained glass sending a glow to floor adjacent to it. The difference in materials used creates complex shimmering patterns and shapes. Admiring the way each shard and fragment of glass comes together to make a beautiful story from the Bible. The wooden floors are pretty and there are rows of wooden pews with bibles in the pockets of the seat in front of you. It smells of that distinct church scent that is quite hard to discribe. The best Matthew can do is old wooden oak polished, with the scent of old books the type that are yellowing with age. He suspects these are from the Bible’s. The people played a role into it two he could often sense their perfume or their recent showers. There's also the scent of candles and incense. The incense is one of three smells that is most distinctive out of the melting pot to Matt. There’s a lingering air of smoke from previous services but it’s never too heavy. It’s not like cigarettes smoke at all, one of Matthew’s least favorite scents in the world. Well that was until he had been in an explosion as daredevil. Burning flesh was definitely the worst thing he’s ever sensed. He had to take many showers to get the smell out of his system. But overall he liked the scent and it was familiar to him. He was raised here. Even if he’s strayed so far, or hated his past now. But the scent of Clinton church was strangely calming and comforting to Matthew. You guide him to a pew bench that’s completely empty. You take your seat next to Matt once he’s settled his hand in his lap the other toying with his cane. You notice pleasantly that your seated directly next to a stain glass window. This one depicts baby Moses floating in the river. You particularly like the way the light shines through the glass making it translucent. The water a blue haze.

you find your seat and you take matts hand that’s in his lap, interlocking both your fingers. He brings the your hands up to his lips and gives a long kiss on your hand before resting it in his lap. The service starts shortly after and it only takes an hour, which is good because you can’t sit still for much longer than that. Matthew listens to what the priest says and you can’t but help admire how he looks. Sitting on the bench with his back leaning slightly back and his head up high. Those shoulders that carry the whole weight of this city on them . Intently listening, he leans his head just slightly back, his stunning red glasses perched upon his face. He looks proud almost. How could someone who looks so good be going through so much. Truth be told you were always worried about Matt. Being daredevil takes a tole on his soul. But you’ve been keeping an eye on him making sure he’s okay recently. He holds your hand the entire time. Only breaking when you have to pray but quickly rejoining his hand with yours. His thumbs stroking your hand comfortably.

“should I read to you what we’re saying?” You say wondering how he does this.

“uh no” he chuckles “i can hear them sweetheart”

“oh right” you answer sheepishly. Sometimes you’re still figuring out the extent of his blindness. He rubs your hand more finding the way you want to help endearing. You distinctly feel the cool of his ring on his hand. And you beam with pride. Before you know it the service is over and Matt stands up with you and unfolds his cane and starts tapping it. You wrap your arms around his as you “guide” him. But also in his own way it’s just another way to show you off. Matthew exchanged a few words with father lantom and some of the others before the two of you walked out into the bright spring day. There was not a cloud in the sky. After walking for a while hand and hand. Your golden beautiful rings shining in the sun. Your diamond perfectly sparkling. The consistent tap of Matt’s cane across everything. The silence is comforting and after a while he turns to you.

“thanks you” he says quietly.

your turn to him “for what?”

“for that, staying beside me. You……you don’t know how much it means to someone like me.” He adds sincerely.

you do know how much it means to him. Not many people have stayed with him, loving him unconditionally like you do. And he needs that, Matt needs her love. Her holds your chin delicately and pulls you in for a soft kiss. You sigh into the kiss. A very love sick sigh

once he breaks the kiss he’s smiling again with his beautiful smile. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face. “So..” his face still close to you. Red glasses practically glowing in the sun “how’s married life treating you Mrs. Murdock?”

you stroke his hair before speaking also a smile plastered on your face. “I think it suits me very well Mr. Murdock.” And he kissed your hand before continuing tapping his cane and walking on the sidewalk with you.

[farfromstrange]

Sub!matt idea. Sensory deprivation.

It can be common as a way of control, heighten the experiance or even to help calm and sooth to blindfold your partner and make them rely on other senses. But for Matt he already has this to the extreme which can be distracting able to hear three blocks away when all he wants to focus on is you his world in this moment.

After a day of honestly tiring input he just asks for you to take over he somtimes does that wanting someone else to control him for a while and he trusts you. And trusts you enough to fuck you with his hearing either gone or reduced only able to feel, smell and taste you which is more then enough. Esspecially when you focus on the touch lavishing his body with sensory your hands never off him roaming, soothing holding. Your lips almost always on him kissing, sucking biting anything to elicit the sweet groans of him. He keeps a hand on your chest or throat not controlling but to be able to sense your rumbling groans and soft sighs feel the uptick in your heart rate as he focuses on you and only you

I am SO sorry that this took so long! And when I finally started writing it, I got carried away, so it took me two whole days to finish. But I wanted it to be good enough after I left you hanging.

On that note, your smutty thoughts make me feral!! Not gonna lie, I sat in my lecture the other day and I couldn't stop thinking about this, which is why this turned out to be over 4k words. On this page, we celebrate sub!Matt and all that comes with him!

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope I could do it justice <3

Sensory Deprivation | Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: The world tends to get a bit loud, but thankfully, you're there to help Matt focus.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), sub!Matt, use of "good boy", oral m!receiving, swallowing, use of earplugs (sensory deprivation), Matt's catholic guilt, slight blasphemy, (almost) coming untouched, mention & use of safe word/action

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: I'm so horny for this man, I can't function. Also, even though I did proofread this, I'm not sure if I missed any mistakes. My brain doesn't function as well as it used to. I'm sorry in advance.

More than anyone in this world, Matt believes he has to function, always, and without exceptions. He believes that he has to be useful, always doing something and never resting. His heightened senses make it impossible for him to turn his back on even the most minuscule cases of injustice, and he still beats himself up time and time again because he can’t be everywhere at once. He hears everything, smells everything, and feels the despair in the air, but in the end, he can’t take on the weight of the world all by himself. 

Ever since he met you, you have become his reprieve. You’re the haven he returns home to when everything gets just a little too much. When his senses are flooded and his heart is heavy. He crawls to you when he’s wounded, and he would crawl to you if he only had a few more minutes to live. You’re the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last person he thinks of when he goes to sleep at night, preferably holding you in his arms to make sure that you won’t slip away from him. In you, he has found someone who would never judge him for who he is. Someone who will always stand by his side proudly, and someone who will hold him when he’s at his weakest. And he has been hanging off the edge of his breaking point for quite some time, holding on for dear life.

You can tell Matt must have had an awful day from the second the key turns in the lock to your shared apartment. His feet drag over the wooden floorboards as he makes his way inside. You look up from your book. 

Matt takes a deep breath, dropping his bag by the door. His shoulders are tense. He folds his cane, places it aside, and removes the red glasses you’ve grown to love—but you don’t nearly love them as much as his beautiful brown eyes, the green specks so distinctive, you could recognize them anywhere.

“Rough day?” you ask. 

He opens the first button of his dress shirt with shaky fingers. “Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says. 

He hasn’t said hi to you like he usually would. Tonight seems to be one of those nights again. You know Matt well enough to pick up on the subtle clues in his behavior. He’s overwhelmed, possibly even anxious, and the weight he always carries on his shoulders is threatening to crush him. He’s walking a very thin tightrope, and he’s about to fall off. 

You place your book on the coffee table and straighten up. He rounds the couch you’re sitting on, his unfocused eyes searching for you. Your heartbeat resonates in his ears. Your breathing is regular. You’re calm. You’re his rock. You won’t let him drown, no matter how strong the current is that is dragging him down. 

Raising your eyebrows, you look up at him when he stops right in front of you. “No hello kiss?” you dare to ask. It’s a soft question, a little teasing, but he knows you mean well. 

Matt shakes his head. As soon as he breathes you in, he’s done for. His brain cells fry on the electric chair of his mind. His heart starts beating up to his throat. You’re so close yet so far away. You smell incredible; you must have showered after work, and then you sat down with your favorite tea and read your favorite book while waiting for him so you could have dinner together. You’re so considerate, you even used his scentless soap so all he would be able to smell is your natural scent. You consume him. The city moves into the background, and the bricks are about to fall off his shoulders. He’s close to collapsing, falling on his knees and begging you to take control to just make him forget, but he isn’t quite there yet.

A car honks in the distance. The night is calling for him. His hand clenches into a fist at his side while the other rests flat against his thigh. 

You slowly rise from your position. “Matthew,” you breathe his name like a siren. “What do you need?”

He sniffs. His fingers twitch. He has to go out, but he can’t. You envelop him in a bubble, and it makes him feel like he isn’t alone. Like he isn’t trapped. Like he can finally let go after holding on for so long. 

“Talk to me,” you say. 

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “There was so much noise,” Matt whispers back. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t focus. I’m trying to stay in control, but I can’t focus, and—” He breaks off into a shaky sigh. 

You chase his eyes; they’re glossed over. You reach out to tilt his chin in your direction. His eyes flutter closed. A stray tear slips down his cheek. It’s a tear stemming from months of exhaustion, physical pain, and emotional turmoil. He tried to push through, but he’s arrived at a point of no return. He’s breaking, and you’re the only one capable of catching him. 

After another deep breath, Matt’s eyes open again. “You’re here,” his voice is still barely above a whisper, but the smile that starts to grow on his lips speaks the language of relief. 

“I’m always here,” you answer. 

“You keep me sane.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

“I also know that, but it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is for you. If you need to be distant for a while and then blow off some steam, I’m okay with it.”

He shudders when your fingers brush his cheek. The faint bruise underneath his eye has turned green. You trace the injury with gentle fingertips. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he says. 

You smile back at him, knowing he can feel it, and you guide him toward your face. “You exist,” you tell him. “That’s enough for you to deserve me.”

His nose brushes against yours, but before his lips can meet yours, he stops. He inhales your scent. He feels your pulse under his fingers from where he’s wrapped them around your wrist. Your skin feels so soft against his. He’s no longer on fire. The world is no longer on fire. He can let go. He wants to know that it’s okay to let go, but the voice in his head is telling him to stop. The crossroads he finds himself at won’t let him leave in the direction he wants to go. 

You can feel his inner turmoil. He’s holding back. He always does so. You’ve been together for what feels like forever, and he still doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. What he needs. What he deserves. You told him to be primal when he needs to be. You told him to admit when you need to take over. He never does it out of his own free will. He waits until you force him into submission. 

Tonight should be the night he finally tells you. Matt needs to learn that his needs matter just as much as yours. His catholicism can go to hell for all you care. 

“I need—” He swallows. “I-I need t—”

“Go ahead,” you urge him. 

“Ugh,” the sound resembles a broken growl. And then, the barriers finally break. “I need you to take over,” he begs. “I need you to help me breathe again, sweetheart. Please. I need you.”

God, he sounds so wrecked. 

“You want me to take control?” you ask to clarify. 

He nods. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good boy. I can do that.”

Matt’s lips part in a weak whimper in response to your praise. Calling him a ‘good boy’ always has the same welcome effect. You don’t even have to look down to know that his cock is slowly swelling in his slacks. 

All the blood has rushed from his head and his beautiful rosy, stubbly cheeks to his groin. It doesn’t take much to turn him on, especially not in his current state—especially not if it’s you.

Hearing him admit that he needs you like this makes you feel a myriad of emotions. You want to take care of him, you want to love him, and you want to give him a moment of peace amongst the constant chaos, but there is also something so arousingly erotic about the way he begs for you to take control that makes your thighs clench. 

Often enough, he is the one taking care of you. Matt is a giver, not a taker. He always puts you first, but on some days, he just can’t bear it anymore. And you couldn’t possibly ask him to take charge in bed in his current state. It would break him. He’s a vulnerable man, whether he likes to admit it or not, and he can be as fragile as an ancient vase. You have to handle him with care on those days, which is all you intend to do as you guide him to your shared bedroom. 

You gently urge him to sit down on the bed. “Do you trust me?” you ask. 

His unfocused eyes flick from one side to the other. “Always,” he breathes out. 

“Good. Lie back for me. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

He would never doubt that. 

You climb into his lap, and finally, you kiss him. His lips part slightly in a desperate groan. Before he can slide his tongue into your mouth though, you pull away. His grabby hands are already resting on your hips, wandering, and wandering, and…

“Nuh-uh,” you tell him, taking hold of his calloused fingers and placing them on your upper thighs. “Patience, baby.”

“Please,” Matt begs. You love it when he begs. He’s completely putty in your hands. You could tell him to get on his knees and pray, and he would, no matter how blasphemous it may be. 

He’s holding onto you for dear life. You place his hand against the left side of your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat. He isn’t leaving you cold. He never does. Alone the sight of him is enough to make your thighs clench with need, but straddling him, you can’t get the friction you need. 

You reach for the nightstand to your right, opening the drawer. You know exactly what he needs. “Turn your head for me,” you murmur. 

Matt follows your instructions without questioning them. Finally finding what you were looking for, you retrieve the earplugs from the bedside drawer. This isn’t the first time you have used them on him, or he has used them on you. The specific brand renders you almost entirely deaf and renders Matt’s enhanced hearing almost to an entirely normal level.

You gently put the first plug into his left ear, then the other into his right. Before you push it in though, you ask, “Do you remember our safeword?” 

He nods. “Red,” he says. 

“Good boy. And when you can’t speak?”

“Tap your wrist three times.” His lips curl up into a weak smile. “Usually, I’m the one asking you that.” 

“Not tonight, you aren’t. May I put this in now?” You tap the earplug.

He nods again. It’s all the confirmation you need before inserting it, reducing his hearing completely. He lets out a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes, and you know he’s trying not to cry. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” you ask, cradling his cheek. His stubble scratches your fingertips, but it’s a welcome pain. 

He can still hear what you’re saying, feel the vibrations in your chest from where his hand is resting, and he smells you so much clearer now that he no longer has to listen to the city screaming at him in the background. Your arousal gets stuck to the tiny hairs in his nose, and he inhales sharply. Every nerve in his body is on fire. 

Matt moans. His tongue darts out, tasting the air. For a moment, he forgets that you just asked for his consent. Everything is so much more intense, yet it isn’t nearly enough. 

“Matthew,” you nudge him. “Talk to me.”

“Yes,” he whispers. At least he thinks he’s whispering. 

You smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and then you lean down to kiss him again. This time, you let him push his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, feeling you, and consuming all of you. He wants every ounce of you ingrained in his mind forever. 

His hands slide under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His focus is on you entirely. You help him take the pesky piece of fabric off, followed by his own. He’s suddenly so hot. 

Your teeth clash when you kiss. His cock is hard as a rock, pressing against his lower abdomen. You can feel it between your thighs. It must be painful for him. 

His kisses trail from your mouth, down your neck. He tastes the salt on your skin. Your pulse jumps as he drags his tongue over the vein. It’s a primal need. He needs to mark you. He needs to taste you, all of you, and make you his for all the world to see. An animalistic growl escapes his lips. His teeth dig into your skin. He nibbles just enough to make you moan, your chest vibrating underneath his hand. Matt doesn’t even hesitate to grab a handful of your breast, tugging at your sensitive nipple until it’s stiff enough to rival his aching cock. 

You throw your head back, your jaw slack, and he uses the newfound space to kiss down to your collarbone. You’re going to be purple and bruised tomorrow, but you don’t care. 

With a demanding grip on his hair that pulls at his scalp and causes him to groan against your shoulder, you push his head toward your chest. He isn’t in control, you are, and you know how much he loves to please you. 

Like a man starving, he sucks your nipple into his mouth. No, it’s not just your nipple. He takes as much as he can into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub only momentarily before he moves on to the rest of your silky skin. 

You moan. You have to let him know that you’re enjoying yourself. He feels the sound deep within your chest from where his hand is resting, and the way your breast moves slightly when you moan. Matt only becomes more eager when he feels and smells what he’s doing to you. 

The scent of you is addicting. Your arousal smells slightly sour, sometimes slightly metallic, but most of all, it is you. And when he tastes your essence on the tip of his tongue without even licking at your slick folds because you are simply that wet, it makes him feral with this insanely primal need to have you. 

He wants to spread you out before him and taste you until you’re coming all over his face. Though today, he is too weak to keep you restrained to the mattress. Matt takes what he can get, what you are willing to give him, and he does so eagerly, like the good boy that he wants to be for you. 

With the world silenced, he can focus on you. The way your heart is hammering against your ribcage, right against his palm. The way your chest heaves with every labored breath you take as he sucks and sucks at your breast until your nipple is beyond swollen. He can feel how smooth your skin is, smell the remnants of your body lotion that he sometimes steals so he can smell you everywhere he goes, and the slight sheen of sweat that has started to cover your body from head to toe. And he can smell your arousal so thick in the air, his cock jumps at the mere thought of sinking into your tight walls—of being completely consumed by you, body and soul. He doesn’t need to hear right now, all he needs to do is feel you. 

You know about his desperate urge to please. You know that, even while you’re in charge, he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. Matt is anything but selfish. But his selflessness doesn’t have a place in this bedroom tonight. 

As crazy as his mouth on your breasts is driving you into an oblivion of pure ecstasy, your walls clenching around nothing, you find it in yourself to pull him away. 

With his eyes hooded, he looks so delicious. His cock is still straining against his lower abdomen in his underwear. When you pull him away, his expression reads offense. You can’t help but snicker. 

“Did you think I’d let you make this about me?” you say just loud enough for the sound to reach through the earplugs. 

He exhales. “I was praying,” he says. 

Praying. He is too far gone to realize. There are sides to Matt Murdock you love more than others, and when he becomes blasphemous, it does things to you. This good catholic boy turns into mush when you just touch him, and then you are his God. You’re who he wants to worship, and he would pray to you, worship at the altar of your body, and drink your essence like holy water if it meant being all over you and inside of you. And you take your position very seriously. 

He trusts you. That is not a small feat. He trusts you with his body and soul, and he trusts you with the most vulnerable parts of him, be it in bed or merely a hug after a bad day. You know what he needs, and he trusts you to take care of him. He wouldn’t let just anyone do what you do to him.

“What were you praying for?” you ask him. 

“You,” he whispers. 

“You can have me, but first… focus.”

He told you he was losing focus because the world was far too late, so with the noise reduced, you will help him focus on something other than the world out there. 

“Feel that?” You kiss his mouth, and from there, you move down to his stubbly jaw. “Focus on that. Focus on me.”

Matt sucks in another sharp breath. While one hand still rests on your chest, the other comes to rest around your neck, feeling your pulse, feeling you, and his eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your luscious lips all over him. 

Your kisses trail down his neck. You pay close attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moans. His hips buck upward. He’s so painfully hard, his cock has already started leaking pre-cum into his boxers. 

Each scar, each indentation on his skin that reminds you of all the good he does at the expense of his health, you kiss. You trace your tongue over the healed wounds, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into yours. He’s so sensitive. 

His fingers involuntarily clench around your neck, but you don’t mind. He’s not choking you, he’s simply trying to hold on. You have established a safe word for a reason, after all. He can get carried away the same way you can get carried away.

You wouldn’t dare push him too far though. Not tonight. Not when he’s already this wrecked underneath you. You purposefully leave his nipples out of the equation and move further down his body. His abs tense under your tender touch. You can’t help but smile. 

And him? Matt feels like he’s floating. He can feel every kiss against his heated skin, your fingertips tracing his scars after you’ve so sensually pressed your mouth against them, and he can feel your every breath as you move downward. Every kiss leaves a series of shivers in its wake. He’s hot, yet he’s cold. He needs more, but at the same time, you are already close to driving him into overstimulation. 

His balls tighten. He can’t believe that the feeling of you is enough to make him want to explode. He knows that if you touch his cock now, he might as well come right then and there. It’s so much more intense like this when he doesn’t get distracted by the world outside. You are his world, and you are all he focuses on. 

You move further down until you reach his boxers. His arm is no longer long enough to keep his hand around your neck, so he moves it into your hair. It’s a silent warning, you suppose because he is close. You only kissed him, and he’s already so close to coming undone. You don’t blame him. He’s been so tense lately. 

You press a kiss to his hip bone before murmuring against his milky skin, “It’s okay.”

Matt whimpers. Your words make their way into his bloodstream. 

You pull his boxers down. The cold air hits his aching tip and the way his back arches makes you almost feel bad. You spit into your hand, but you make sure your palm is warm enough before you reach for his girth. 

The moment you touch him, he’s done for. “Sweetheart, I can’t–” he chokes out, but you shush him by placing your lips against his tip. 

You lick at the salty pre-cum. It tastes like him. You can’t deny that you missed this while he was so distant from you. This is as much for you as it is for him, that is something you can’t deny either. You’re a little selfish tonight. Just a little. 

His words of protest get swallowed by a needy moan, and his fist tightens in your hair. He’s not going to last long. 

Matt is not one to come early. The guilt swallows him faster than you can swallow his cum, which is why he always holds himself back. Tonight though, you won’t let him torture himself for your pleasure. You hate it when he does it. 

“Ugh!” the moan comes from the depths of his chest. “Fucking–God!”

You take him into your throat as far as you can without gagging, and what you can’t take, you wrap your hand around. He’s so thick, and he’s so incredibly big—you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. But God, he is so beautiful with his head thrown back, brown eyes squeezed shut, and that little drop of sweat dripping down his temple. It’s lewd, it’s erotic, and it makes your thighs clench. 

All of his reservations vanish when you take him all in. Your throat is tight, but you’re enthusiastic. Your tongue traces the vein on the underside of his cock, moving back up to the overly sensitive head. Your hands cup his balls. Every time you go down on him, Matt swears he can feel heaven reaching its hand out to him.

He grips your hair a little tighter, his other hand tangling in the sheets. He’s so close. He twitches, painfully so. And when he comes, he instinctively pulls your head upward so you won’t choke. His hot cum spurts down your throat, and you have no choice but to swallow. 

You surprise both yourself and him when you fight against his hand and force yourself down far enough so that your nose brushes the base of his cock, and you gag. 

Your throat is so tight and hot that it drags his orgasm on for eternity. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. His heart is racing out of his chest as if it has somewhere to be. The fire ripples through him, the inferno turning into a dangerous explosion that tears his nerves apart, putting them back together just to tear them apart again. He feels as though the skin is falling off his very fragile bones, and his muscles collapse in on themselves. 

Matt can’t breathe. When he finally manages to untangle his hands from your hair, he lies there. The blood in his ears is obnoxious. He can’t hear. He can’t see. And suddenly, he can’t even feel anymore. He doesn’t exist. Reality slips away into a moment in time. Now, he’s dying. It feels like he is dying. 

You pull off his cock, catching your breath. His cum trickles down the corner of your mouth. You wipe it away. Pressing a kiss to his hip bone, you look up through your lashes. At first, he looks blissed out, but his expression quickly changes. 

He can’t talk. You take his hand. “Matt,” you coax him. 

Not even his chest is lifting in time to accommodate his heavy breathing. His body is shaking as every ounce of stress falls off his shoulders, and his nerves fall victim to the inferno that is still wreaking havoc inside of him.

He taps your wrist three times. 

“Okay,” you murmur. You quickly climb back up his body. 

“Out,” he manages to tell you, weakly pointing to the earplugs. 

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You pull the earplugs out as fast as you can. Matt’s arms wrap around you, searching for a lifeline, and he pulls you against him.

“Shhh.” You cradle his head in the crook of your neck. 

You hold him like this for a while. You hold him against you tightly, gently, as if he is the most fragile thing you have ever held. 

Eventually, his breathing returns to normal. His heart starts to slow down. His fingertips no longer dig into your back as desperately as they have before. He’s just content now. 

You press your lips to the crown of his head. “You okay?” you dare to ask. 

Matt takes a moment before he nods. He leans back slightly. “Thank you,” he breathes. 

“For what?”

His lips curl into a tired yet satisfied smile. “For helping me focus.”

You smile back at him. “My pleasure,” you say, and you lean down to capture his lips in a loving kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“And I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock.”

“Oh, you love me that much, huh?”

You giggle, “Shut up!” before you pull him in for another kiss. 

For now, he needs to catch his breath and pick up the pieces you shattered by giving him this orgasm, but you know that once he does, it is going to be a long night for you. And you won’t be able to find it in yourself to complain. Not that you want to, anyway.

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

[serendipityrogers]

Hi I saw Matt requests lol. I don’t have any actual ideas but I love angst with happy endings. Jealousy fic, or they get into an argument (where they make up at the end)? Idk I know those are vague and probably not helpful but I love Matt and your writing so thought I’d send something even if it’s not very good. Sorry

done || m. murdock

summary: after a particularly bad night, (y/f/n) loses it. and for good reason.

word count: 1632

warning: swearings, yelling, fighting, mention of gun shot, broken rib, and stab wounds.

an: thanks for the request, friend! i went with the argument route since i don’t write them very often and i want to get better! i hope you like this! :) i don’t love this either but eh, i gotta start somewhere. !not proofread!

“I’m sick of this!” 

You were pissed. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time you were sure of it. “You do this to me every night!” You were on a whole spiel, that wasn’t going to end anytime soon. “You come in here half dead, entrusting me to patch you up and bring you back to life!” You could feel the warmth of anger engulfing your entire body. “(Y/F/N), please calm down.”

That was the wrong thing to say to you at this moment, and Matt almost immediately regretted it. “Calm down? Calm down!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands into the air in frustration. “If I walked through the door every night with a gunshot or stab wound you would be freaking out just as much as I am!” Your shouting could probably be heard by the neighbors, but your care had gone out the same window Matt used to come in from his Daredevil duties tonight. 

“Do you know what this does to a person?” You asked, your tone quieter than before but still full or rage. “Seeing the person you love completely wounded and helpless, depending on you to make sure he doesn’t meet God!” Matt opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t let him. You weren’t sure if the tears that appeared in your eyes were more out of anger or sadness, but probably a mixture of both. “I’m sick and tired of this, Matthew.” Your voice gave out on the last syllable. “A-And I can’t keep doing this.” You couldn’t believe you were admitting this out loud right now. This was a thought that had popped up in your brain before, but it was one you rushed off the instant it formed.

His antics tonight had almost gotten him killed, worse than other nights. Two stab wounds, both next to almost fatal areas. It was really convenient that his girlfriend was a nurse, and had a first aid kit to show it. You had done this countless times, it had become second nature. But this not only affects your relationship but your psyche, seeing the man you love on the brink of death on an almost daily basis, how easily he could have just slipped to the other side on the floor of your living room. If he came home with a broken rib or a black eye it was a good night in the books. “What’re you saying, (Y/F/N)?” He asked, you could hear the hurt in his voice. It brought you a notch down in your anger, but not as much as you had hoped. 

“I don’t really know, Matthew.” You scoffed, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “I’m going to bed.” You announced, needing some alone time and rest, to better wrap your head around this situation. “You are not.” Matt said, standing up from the lying position on the floor. “You don’t get to drop this on me and leave.” He scoffed, making you roll your eyes. Ignoring him, you walked away to your shared bedroom. But, he stopped you, grabbing your arm. That notch of anger rose again, and you ripped your arm away from him. “You will not tell me what I can and cannot do.” You seethed at him. “Not after all the shit I have to deal with, shit I have no say in.” 

You closed the bedroom door with a slam, further asserting your point. After a few moments, as you leaned up against the door, you heard a crash and the sound of a glass breaking. More tears rolling down your face, you could tell these were more out of sadness this time. You didn’t want to leave Matt, you loved him dearly, to the ends of the universe. But something had to give, these Daredevil shenanigans needed to cease or decrease by a landslide. You crawled into the bed, the bed that smelled just like Matthew. And you fell asleep, his aroma wrapping around you like a blanket. 

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was stretch out, reaching for Matt’s side of the bed. But he wasn’t there. And that’s when the night before fled back to you, hitting you like a ton of bricks. Part of you wanted to avoid Matthew, the other part of you desperate to see him, to hold him again. In the silence, you heard something coming from the other side of the door. It sounded like shuffling, he must be awake. After a pep talk and headache medicine, you decided to face the music. 

As you pulled the door open, you were greeted by the sun coming in from the large windows in the living room, making your eyes squint. Then you saw him, standing with his back towards you, pouring himself a cup of coffee, something you usually had ready for him in the morning. It caused a twinge of sadness to shoot through your heart. “Good morning.” He said flatly, turning to face you. “Hello.” You said, standing in the doorway awkwardly. “I made you some toast.” He said, gesturing towards the plate on the island. “Thank you.” You muttered, making your way towards the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table, he sat across from you. This felt so weird, you just wanted to reach over and give him a big ‘good morning’ kiss. But you needed to hold your ground. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked, bringing his cup up to his lips, and giving it a small blow. “Pretty good.” You admitted. You slept like a brick, all the emotions taking it out of you. “What about you?” You asked, taking a bite of your toast. “Not well.” He answered truthfully. And then silence crept over the apartment, neither of you knowing how to carry on the rest of the conversation. The toast and his coffee was soon gone, and the two of you were just sitting there. “What do you want to do today?” He finally asked, fiddling with his empty mug. “I-I kinda just want to stay in. I got a new book from the library.” You shrugged, unsure of how to answer his question. “That’s fine with me. I didn’t have any other ideas.” He shrugged, standing, taking his mug to the sink. 

Matt turned on the television, turning on a random channel. He liked to just listen to the television, and you didn’t mind, it was good background noise for your reading. The two of you sat on opposite sides of the couch, tucked under your own blankets. “What’re you reading?” He asked, breaking the silence between the two of you after about an hour. “A self help book my friend suggested to me awhile back.” You said, thumbing to the next page. “Can you read to me?” He asked. This was something you two did often, it felt good to do something normal together. 

“Anger is like flowing water; there's nothing wrong with it as long as you let it flow.” How fitting. “Hate is like stagnant water; anger that you denied yourself the freedom to feel, the freedom to flow; water that you gathered in one place and left to forget.” This had to be a sign or something from the universe. “Stagnant water becomes dirty, stinky, disease-ridden, poisonous, deadly; that is your hate. On flowing water travels little paper boats; paper boats of forgiveness.” You have got to be kidding me. “Allow yourself to feel anger, allow your waters to flow, along with all the paper boats of forgiveness. Be human.” Matt chuckled, making you laugh shallowly. “I swear that wasn’t planned.” You joked, a smile spreading across your face. 

“Look (Y/F/N)...” Matt’s voice trailed off. “I’m sorry.” He stated, “So sorry.” He added quickly. “I’m sorry too.” You admitted, placing the book on the table. “C-Can I have a hug?” You asked, tears of relief brimming your eyes. He nodded with a smile, and you swore you never squeezed him that hard in your life. He winced, causing you to loosen up, you had completely forgotten about his new wounds. “I’m sorry.” You said, tears soaking his t-shirt. “You never need to be sorry.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. The two of you embraced for minutes it felt like, and you savored every moment, like it was your last. 

As the two of you separated, Matt spoke again, “Did you mean what you said last night? That you can’t keep doing this?” He asked, worry lacing his tone. You were silent for a moment. “I am never going to leave you, Matthew. You mean way too much to me.” You said, placing a hand on top of his. “And you mean everything to me. Way more than this city.” He explained, you could hear him getting emotional, something he rarely ever did around you. “Oh, Matt.” You cooed, pulling his face to yours and giving him a kiss on the lips. 

The two of you spent the rest of the night attached at the hip. Finishing your book together, ordering your guys favorite food for dinner, and just enjoying one another’s company. Later in the night, your eyes kept shifting towards the clock. “What’s wrong?” Matt asked, using one of his hands to cup your face, that was laid in his lap. His hand was warm and calloused against the soft skin of your face.  “I can hear your heartbeat.” He rubbed his thumb across your cheek. “I know it’s almost time for you to leave, and I’m just nervous.” You admitted, placing your hand on top of his. Matt didn’t say anything for a moment, you could almost hear him thinking. 

“I think Hell’s Kitchen can go without me for a couple days.” 

[peterman-spideyparker]

since you’re literally my FAVOURITE matt murdock writer, i had to slip this by you :’) <3

high pain tolerance bf vs “noo i got a papercut” gf trope pls

Nonny, you are way too sweet!! :'') I love this!! TBH, I've had this written probably for a few months on my phone, but I ended my day with a nasty paper cut, and it reminded me to post! I hope you like it!

Tolerance (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Warning: Fluff and sweet domesticity, canon-typical injuries/Matt getting patched up

“Almost done, Matty,” you tell him as you work to stitch up the wound on his side.

“It’s really not that bad—it didn’t need stitches,” he tries to insist. 

“Matthew, I can literally see inside of you,” you sigh. “Don’t go Monty Python on me.”

“I’ve been in worse scrapes, and you know that.”

“I do know that, and I don’t like that you’ve been in worse scrapes.”

“I have been more careful, though.”

“I appreciate it. But shut up.”

“Argumentative.”

“Badgering!”

“You’re doing the badgering, angel.”

“And you’re being argumentative,” you counter as you tie off his wound.

“I see my legal skills have rubbed off on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smirk, kissing his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re back down to your normal amount of holes now.”

You watch as the confusion dances across Matt’s face, absorbing the weirdness of your statement before you notice him slip into careful thought as he goes over his anatomy. 

“Was . . . Was that supposed to be a compliment or insult?” he tries. 

You begin to giggle uncontrollably before you lean over to kiss the top of his head, moving to gather all the scraps from patching him up.

“Compliment,” you clarify. “My big, strong, brave Daredevil is all patched up.”

“Sweetheart—.”

“Don’t brush off your nightly beatings like you’re being tickled with a feather duster. You have an unusually high pain tolerance.”

“That part is the Catholicism,” he says with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, yeah, either way, you should see a medical professional about that brain of yo—hmmm!” you whimper. 

“(Y/N)?” Matt asks, snapping his attention toward you, doing his best to get up as fast as he can with his wounds restricting him. 

“‘M okay.”

“Not with that whine.” He grunts and shuffles his way over toward you, his hand wrapping around your own that covers your wound. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It really hurts,” you mutter, keeping your head tilted down. 

“What happened?”

You stay quiet.

“(Y/N)—.”

“Paper cut,” you grumpily admit. 

“You . . . Got a paper cut?”

“It’s big and it’s deep and it’s not in a good spot!” you whine. Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Matty, it’s not funny, it really hurts!”

“Need me to kiss it better?”

“Well, I’m not opposed, but not if you’re gonna laugh at me!”

“I could never laugh at you, angel, just the things you do and how you make me feel.” He exposes the cut and lifts your hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “Does that feel better?”

“A little,” you admit. “It really stings. And I’ll have you know that I put up with a hell of a lot of pain for a week every month just to have your babies one day!”

An amused smile pulls across his lips. 

“You just said—!” you start. 

“You wanna have my babies?” he asks as the smile on his face grows even bigger, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated happiness. 

“Well . . . Yeah. I love you, Matt, and I’d be a big fat liar if I said I didn’t think about our future together.”

“How about when my ribs are in better shape and any superfluous holes have closed, we get some baby-making practice in.” 

You feel your face grow hot as you blush deeply. 

“You’re so cute when you’re bashful,” he hums, angling his head so he can kiss you. 

“You know, Mr. Super-sense, if you weren’t covered in holes . . . !” Your mouth turns into an angry pucker as you try to think of where you were going the insult of your sentence.

“Yeah, angel?” What a punk, he is. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles brightly, bringing his lips to yours, cradling your head with his hand.

You happily return his embraces, getting carried away and lost in his lips before you manage to pull back. “There goes that blood loss, taking control of your mouth again,” you blush as his hands happily settle on your waist. “Let’s get you to bed before I have to give Claire a buzz, hm? I can only patch up holes in your body so well.”

Another soft chuckle escapes his lips as he kisses your again before turning and letting you guide him to the mattress and tuck him in so he can get a few hours sleep before he goes to defend his city once more, albeit in a less physical capacity. 

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[raiderlucy]

Colour Palette Meme

Daredevil + Shadowsight for @softasawhisper

send me a colour palette + show/movie/character/ship etc. and I’ll make a gifset of it.