#matt murdock x fem!reader smut

[peterman-spideyparker]

Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)

Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.

Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 3,586

Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.

“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”

“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”

Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”

“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”

“I don’t—.”

“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”

“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”

“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”

“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.

“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”

“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.

“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.

“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”

“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”

“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”

“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”

Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.

“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”

“Well, she knows.”

He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.

Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.

“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.

“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”

“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”

Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.

Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.

“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”

“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.

“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”

He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.

“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.

“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.

“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.

“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.

“I—!”

You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.

“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”

Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.

“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close. 

“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”

You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.

You’re ovulating.

And you know it.

Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants. 

“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.

“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even. 

“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”

You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”

Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.

“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.

“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”

You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.

“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes. 

“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”

“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”

You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.

Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.

“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”

“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”

Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.

Shit. He loves you. 

He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.

Yeah, he loves you.

“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”

“Kay,” you hum.

Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes. 

“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same. 

“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”

The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”

“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”

Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt. 

“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.

“Completely,” he smiles. 

Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists. 

“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight. 

“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”

He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard. 

“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”

You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.

“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum. 

You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.

“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk. 

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”

“Are we now?”

“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”

Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin. 

His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra. 

“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.

“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.

“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.

“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”

You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.

“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”

“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder. 

“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”

“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”

“Yours! I’m yours!”

Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.

Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.

“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”

Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.

The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.

“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”

Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

buttercup, masterlist

a/n: ….this was really therapeutic to write. 

summary: little did you know that your new next-door neighbour, the very guy you have an embarrassingly large crush on, is the masked vigilante who saved you a little over a year ago.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, explicit sexual content, rape recovery, ptsd, adorable surrogate parents gay uncles, mostly just a lot of fluff and comforting goodness, total word count is 18k

masterlist | join my taglist | series playlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[berrieluv]

cw. sex, fights and man thinking they're in the right when they're not. I enjoyed writing this silly things about matt murdock, who's my current obsession in this little break I had for Día de los muertos, tomorrow I'm back at school and work :c

"... and there isn't a small part of yourself that tells you; and listen, this may sound incredible insane" Karen continued with a bit of sarcasm in her voice after Matt shut up for a second after complaining for ten minutes straight "But maybe you're wrong?"

Matt looked at her and mocked her, because how could he be wrong.

Y/N isn't sleeping at my place at the moment.

Was what started all this talk. Foggy asked why the place suddenly felt quiet and dark when he got used to having your colored stuff around and your voice echoing the brick walls.

"How can I be wrong, she's the dumb one"

He simply asked, as if Karen's accusations were completely out of this world.

"Maybe you could start respecting her, and you wouldn't be in this situation"

She hasn't talk to me in two weeks.

Matt said, trying to look as it didn't bothered him when in reality he had no idea on what to do with himself. He got so use to you being there to put him back together that now that he was by his own again he didn't know what to do.

"I respect her..." He started, and Karen looked at him, incredulous "I don't call her dumb in her face"

"Is not... Is not how you direct at her but how you express yourself of the one you love in front of other what is a key on respect" Matt groaned, as if it was the most complicated thing to do. "Everyone like their partner talking wonders about them, I can tell you she does. You're a hero for her"

"I'm kind of a hero"

"You're an imbecile"

You helped Matt inside his apartment and drop his arm as soon as the door was closed, his face is 'looking' at your direction and you see him frown.

"Are you mad at me or something?" He started, and you look at him incredulous, forgetting he can't see the look in your face "You haven't talk to me the whole way here"

You revolved around the place, picking up some of your things and trying to ease your anger. Knowing it wouldn't take you far to speak to Matt like that.

"Why were you making fun of me the whole night?"

You ask, calmly, trying to maintain yourself together. He hates when you do that, he hates how you start those type of questions with a 'why', with a low and almost breaking voice, as if he had been wrong, as if anything he does is enough for you. Trying to get him to feel guilty about the way he decides to express himself, trying to make him feel guilty about being him.

"You disrespected me... In front of people who are, incredible important for me... for my job"

He is about to talk and you cut him, knowing he's about to excuse himself, as if you knew he wasn't thinking of an apology "Is almost as you don't think I'm good at what I do"

"Darling..." He starts, mocking, "You're an assistant" You open your mouth and look at him with a frown "You- you can't be possible be good at your job... you're just... at your job"

You were done. You closed your mouth and started packing the things you left there just last night, knowing Matt could sense you moving around and not talking to him, making him go crazy because he heard your heart racing fast but he didn't know what you were thinking, how you felt about the, well, the truth he just said. Because he was firmly believing it was the truth.

"And for the record... My job really is important... I– I do a lot of things Matt and if you were paying attention and weren't too busy in mocking me you would've heard that I am up for a promotion. I– I'm next to have my own office and– why am I bothering explaining this to you" you say when you look the stupid smile planted in his face, as if he was waiting for you to finish and disregard any feelings you have towards this "You wouldn't get shit done without Karen, your assistant"

"Karen isn't–"

"God, shut up!" You raise your voice, throwing a mascara to his face, a bit disappointed that he stopped it before it could hit his face. You wanted to hurt him the same way he was hurting you "I'm tired of... of everything, of people telling I'm too dumb to notice things, of people thinking I'm just made to be someone's pretty wife when I'm– I'm so much more than that..." you sigh "I know, I know I can be dumb but I'm so smart, I'm so dedicated and hardworking and pretty and if people started to focus less in the last part and start acknowledging the others..."

"Baby, you don't even need to work. You're stressing yourself over nothing" He starts, missing completely the point of your speech "I'm making a lot of money, and when Nelson and Murdock is on its peak I'll be able to buy you everything you want"

He smiles, as if he just said the thing you wanted to hear, and the worst of this is that he was proud of what he just said.

You stop talking, tired, knowing he couldn't possibly understand because he was a smart, handsome white man, things came served in silver tray for him.

You get close to him, bags in hand but he can't possibly know that, he just smiles at your closeness, your heartbeat slower this time and next thing he knows his back is arching and his hands go straight to his crotch. You knew damn well it wasn't fair from you to hit a blind man, but you didn't hit him because he was blind, you did it because he was an asshole.

"I'll be back when you learn to respect me. My feelings and what I do. When you show me you know I'm not a trophy and just like you I want to be showed off for my merits and not just for being your pretty little bimbo girlfriend"

Of course Matt didn't tell the story like that to his friends. And he didn't acknowledge the mascara still laying on the floor, he knew it was somewhere around the apartment, he has step on it a few times, but he believed you had to come and pick it up, since you were the one who left it there.

"Why don't you apologize" Foggy said, eating from the Chinese food that was delivered, knowing that if you were they would be eating one of the best home-cooked meals. "I mean, you were kinda wrong"

Matt looked at him, incredulous "How- How was I wrong? For lighting up the place with my jokes and stealing the spotlight? I'm sorry I'm funny and handsome"

"I just don't think that was happened" Karen said.

"What kind of jokes were you making?" Foggy asked, with the fork pointing at Matt "Because I just know you're not good at jokes if they're not to make fun about people"

Matt gets suddenly nervous, maybe his mistake was saying the word 'joke' in the conversation.

"Oh, God, Matt" Karen said again "You fucking asshole"

Matt liked to make fun of you. Everyone knew that, and most of the time they were harmless jokes, even you laughed at them, and the moments you pouted Matt would kiss you, reassuring you that you were the best thing that happened to him, and he couldn't be happier.

So he didn't know what went wrong this time. Maybe it was your uncomfortable look telling him, begging him, to stop. Maybe it was how you pulled away from his kisses, trying to show a professional behavior to the people around. Maybe it was how you murmured a little 'stop it' in his ear, with a fake smile he couldn't see and a tone of anger in your voice. Or maybe it was how you dragged him away from the people and asked him to stop with the tasteless jokes. But how was he supposed to read your mind.

"Maybe I was wrong" He says, starting to repeat the events of the night in his head, and not knowing how all your signs of discomfort passed by him. "God, I was an ass"

You hated spending time alone. You hated how big your department was and you hated how your dad called you every five fucking minutes to ask why Matt wasn't around.

You hated how Matt wasn't there to hug you from behind and leave a walk of kisses on your neck while you were working, you hated how much you missed him and how much you wanted to run to him and forget everything that happened.

But he deserved this. And if he wasn't one to apologize this time, and show you he was mature enough to be in a relationship, maybe this was the end of you both. Because you couldn't possibly picture yourself in a relationship where you had to admit you were wrong because he couldn't possibly grab his balls and accept he wasn't in the right.

Your bell rings and you let it go, thinking it was the packages you ordered, then it goes again, and again, this time more insistent. And you rolled your eyes at the insistence.

When you open the door the first thing you see is Matt, standing with ordinary clothes, a tight shirt, making his muscles notorious and reminding you why you didn't last much mad at him. You were lucky he was wearing a loose suit that day. You cross your arms and look at him.

"What do you want, Matthew"

"I'm sorry" He starts, and that's the only thing you wanted to hear, but it took him two weeks, and now it wasn't enough. "I'm really sorry I– I disrespected you and I shouldn't have done that and I, I know you're mad but you said you will be here when I learned my lesson and I, I really love you"

"Yeah, good for you" You start. Still on the door frame, not making space for him to go in or inviting him.

"I really mean it, Y/N. I was an asshole and it took me too long to realize it and– You know I'm not good with... feelings"

"Oh, no, you're amazing at feelings, Matthew. You fall in love with every girl who talks nice to you and shows you a bit of decency, hell you even fall in love with those who doesn't, you're a manwhore. So don't come to me saying feelings aren't your thing because I just know they are"

"I–"

"You need to learn to admit you're wrong"

"I was wrong"

You look at him and sigh, you wanted to hear a sincere 'I was wrong', you wanted him to be really sorry, to show you he could grown into a man who admits his mistakes, a husband, maybe a father.

"How can I believe it when you don't believe it yourself?" He quickly falls at his knees and you look around, it's not everyday that you have Matt Murdock, the Daredevil, begging on his knees. "Don't be ridiculous, Matthew. You look pathetic"

"Baby, baby, baby..." He prays, hugging your arms and murmuring 'sorry' a thousand times.

"Get up"

And he does, after saying 'Anything you want' and taking your face in his hands. "How can I make this better? How can I make you believe me?"

And you believed him, because Matt wasn't one to tell you lies. He has never lie about anything in your relationship and you couldn't get to believe he would start today. Because if he decided to lie over this fight, he would've done it days ago, but he took his time, he worked in his case and got to realize he was really wrong. But you loved seeing a pretty man in pain.

"Matt, get in" You told him, and he obeyed, and just as quickly as the door closed your lips were in his. Wildly devouring him, taking his face with both of your hands and showing him how much you missed him.

Your hands hit his when he tries to touch you. You guide him to the couch and throw him there, getting rid of your pajamas shorts and pushing his chest so his back was touching the couch again. Matt could smell your arousal, your neediness, and he grinned, proud of himself.

You take his glasses and throw them to some place in your department, hoping they break so he would finally get another ones. A pretty ones this time.

Now your hands are on the base of the couch and your pussy's on Matt's face, and he eats it, like a starved man, which he kinda was, he haven't taste you in so long he needed this.

He didn't complain, he couldn't possibly know you were about to ride his face, but how could he say anything about it, when his hands were holding your hips, making sure they were leaving marks.

He moved his hands to your thighs and caressed them, completely forgetting Foggy and Karen where downstairs in the car, waiting for him to tell them if he made it right or things were finally over.

You started moaning louder, knowing Matt hated when you tried to be silent. Your chest rests in the wall of the couch while Matt keeps moving his tongue down there, tasting your wetness and making you cum. This time in surprise, no adverting him, not asking for permission because this was for your pleasure, and it was for you to do what you wanted, you needed him to understand control could play both parts.

When you need to get down, feeling your sore pussy begging for him to stop, he holds your thighs stronger and continues eating you out, your body shaking, and he knows what he's doing, because he knows your body and he knows how sensitive you get after coming.

"Need you, baby" He says "Need you in my cock"

You shake your hand, this wasn't about him and what he needed, and he didn't seem to understand it yet.

"We do what I want this time, Matt" You moan "We– ugh, fuck– you do what I want"

He nods, getting your pussy off his face and coming closer to yours, kissing your lips and putting one of his hands in your neck.

"What do you need, princess? What do you want, my love?" And he knew what it was, his cock, but it needed to be cleared that this was because you needed it, and not him. "You need my cock, don't you? My pretty baby needs my cock? You– fuck you got it, princess. You need my cock just take it, it's yours and only yours"

You're quick to lower his sweatpants to his knees, being greet by his big and pink cock looking at you, your mouth drools and you can't decide if you want it in your mouth or your pussy first.

"Let me fill you up, doll" He says when you start taking his cock in your pussy "Fuck, fuck, you, you're so good at this"

You chuckle, because you were barely moving but he was so needy it was almost funny. It would be funny if you weren't in the same state. And you could mock him, but you would be spitting up.

"Matt..." You start "I need you to understand, fuck, that you can't be thinking things for this long I– I need you to know what you want and where– God, yes, yes, like that– where, where we stand"

"I love you" He thrusts into you "I love you and–" He thrusts again, this time his finger was in your clit, circling it and making imposible for you to keep your eyes open "And I'm sorry, I was, I was wrong. I was wrong and you were right"

And know you understood why man loved being right, why they loved dominating over anything, because Matt saying out loud what you already knew was hotter than anything you've get him to say.

"Say it again"

He frowned, and you repeated your words "You– you were right?" You moan "You were right and I was wrong" He says as he feels you riding him faster "I was so wrong, princess. I'm so–sorry, you were right"

You moan and nod, resting your hands in his soft chest and impulsing yourself to go faster, making Matt moan when his cum finally taints your walls.

[undercoverpena]

favours and antics

matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: alludes to smut, fwb, written on phone be aware: spoiler-ish for she-hulk episode 8, slight mention to this episode in relation to our whorey-devil

masterlist

It wasn’t that you were jealous, but you couldn’t deny your heart sunk when Foggy said Matt was out of town.

Your beer suddenly not hitting the same spot.

The music not thrumming through your bones in the way it usually does.

Your smile more forced.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Foggy or Karen, but the evening did not seem nearly as fun. Not that you could say it, not with how Foggy stared at you when Karen explained what he was doing out of town. A case, she explained. Likely flirting up a storm, is what else she’d added.

You’d become good at hiding your emotions, able to apply a mask of your own before you show too much.

Because Foggy doesn’t understand.

Hell, sometimes you’re not even sure you understand.

Even if you were the one who made Matt agree to just be friends, although it’s your body occasionally betraying you.

Friends.

Not even really lovers.

Just people who are friends that occasionally fuck. It was simple. Easy. No complicated feelings and relationship demands.

He lives his life, you live yours.

Even if feelings try to ruin it. Your work allowing you to bury yours, using work as an escape; Matt doing whatever Matt does between lawyering and vigilantism.

You try not to think about it.

Because he’s great with people. He’s a flirt. Someone who truthfully doesn’t have time for a whole other person in his life, and yet rarely is ever on his own.

Which is why it’s easy to slide into his arms. The flirting growing either over a game of pool, a few too many beers, or even a bad day. It should end there, but it never does.

You always finding yourself kissing him, letting your fingers undo shirt buttons as you run palms over healing wounds and scars. His hands freeing skin, kissing every inch, running his teeth over collarbones.

All of which is the very reason you’d been avoiding him—until the bar the other night. Hoping to ask him a favour then, with people around.

Not like this.

Not in his office.

His small, well-lit office, with no one else even around to interrupt.

He also looked good, annoyingly good. That sweet smile doing a number on you before he even said hello. Your hands diving inside your bag, needing something to do.

“Foggy said you were disappointed I was out of town when you met for drinks?

Fucking Foggy, the gossip.

You smile. “Well, I’d hoped to ask you for a favour.”

“I see.”

“How…” you ask, pushing your hair from your shoulder, “um, was your business trip?”

He smiles, likely reading straight through your words. The way you nervously asked.

His fucking gift making it easy to know all your secrets.

“Interesting. A little different than New York.”

Your eyes narrow because you noticed the infliction. That same pang filling your chest from the bar, one you try to quickly swallow. Trying not to replay the way he said interesting with that smug voice.

“The bars as good?” you ask, your jealously bubbling. Remembering Foggy calling, telling you and Karen that he’d heard him out. “I was with Foggy still, he’d said you were at a bar.”

His hand moves to his hips, his lips sliding up into one of those smirks. One you suspect he uses on everyone he wants to woo.

Because he knows what he does to a person. He’s not stupid. He’s whispered it in your ear before. That he can hear your heartbeat. How it quickened when his hand steadied your hip as he stood behind you at the pool table.

“You sound awfully jealous there, sweetheart?”

You lick your lips. Thinking of how best to respond, when you realise it’s better if you don’t.

“Anyway, as I said, I need a favour. I have a situation with a client of mine—I know you just travelled for a favour but…”

Your words slowly dying as you watch his hand outstretched, moving from his hip. Handing him the file—the one you’d already had put in Braille, something which seemed to make him smile when his fingers brushed over it.

Even if you’re trying not to let it bother you, his smile warms you. You busily trying to fill him in on the complaint, his head occasionally tilting as you talk, finger running across the papers.

You give him a minute—one that feels like an hour.

Able to smell his aftershave, all wooden and musky, the scent which has clung to your skin on many occasions. One which rushes memories and feelings, making your chest tighten.

“So, can you help?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You let out a soft breath, closing your bag. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“No problem, we’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

You glare, sighing, before nodding. Because you know what he’s getting at. While also knowing in his freaky way, he can sense your nod, likely even your annoyance at his word choice, turning to the door as he speaks again.

“And, if you ever fancy being reminded of how friendly we can be, you don’t need to wait to meet me at a bar to find out. You can call me.”

Letting your hand fall from the door handle, you look over your shoulder. His hand on his hip, suit jacket pushed back from his waist; the glasses removed, that shit-eating smirk on his face.

For a second, you just stare at him.

Both in admiration and in annoyance, the two swirling together as he moves around his desk. The room suddenly feeling smaller, the air tighter.

Asshole.

Beautiful, handsome asshole.

And then he’s behind you. Enough of a gap left for you to open the door, to leave.

But close enough to stop you if he wanted to.

So you straighten your spine, applying your best smirk. “I don’t think you have it in you to fuck me like I need, Murdock. But, if I fancy having an itch scratched that my vibrator can’t hit, I’ll call.”

Before you can even reach for the handle, his hand presses the door into the frame, eyes narrowing when you look back at him.

“Friends don’t barricade friends in offices.”

“Friends also don’t lie to their other friends about how good they make them feel.”

You glare. “Are you telling me I’m wrong?” you continue. “Or are you trying to tell me your LA hook up didn’t scratch that itch, I’m sure you can find someone at Josie’s?”

He laughs. “Oh, no they definitely did. Just wasn’t sure if you needed the reminder of how good we are together.”

He feels closer, even if neither of you have moved. His presence alone growing greater.

“I remember. I also remember last time you leaving immediately after. Donning a leather suit and climbing onto roofs,” you say, turning to face him, standing to the side of the door. “I’ve had men leave, don’t get me wrong, never out of their own window, so no, I don’t want a reminder.”

He smirks, but it’s not the same as before.

Even less so as he closes the small gap between you both, pressing your spine against the wall, arm sliding over from holding the door in place to beside your head—even if you’ve long abandoned the idea of leaving.

“You want to repeat that?”

You don’t.

Not as your mind begins to run away from you. Thoughts of him pressing his body against you, feeling how firm it was; sinful ideas of him fucking you on his desk, a neutral ground for the two of you—except harmless flirting.

All the while trying to control your body, not wanting your cheeks to flush, your heart to race, or even let your body sweat from the longing and thought of him doing unholy things to you.

Because for a man of god, he didn’t fuck like one.

Even with your cockiness, your faux confidence and nonchalance, you knew there was no way you could truthfully say he didn’t know how to fuck a person. He did. And the fucking man knew it.

His free hand took your chin, tilting your face up to his—a little firmer than normal. “Care to share what’s gotten you so quiet?”

You swallow, instantly hating yourself for it.

Knowing he heard it. Just like you think he knows you’re trying to rub your thighs together. Especially when he slides his own knee between your legs.

“You sure you don’t want that reminder?”

“I’m not a toy, Matthew.”

He smiles, thumb stroking the side of your lips. “Shame. If you were, I’d play with you all the time.”

You let your eyes flick over his face, knowing his words shouldn’t work. They shouldn’t.

But they do.

“Drop your bag, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin. “Why?” you ask. Aiming for it to come out as more of a blunt question, than a breathy reply.

His fingers slide from your chin along your jaw, moving his face closer. “Just do it.”

And you do.

Both from the way his lips almost ghost over yours and the demand in his voice. His other hand, the one you’re rarely paying attention to, slides over your hip, sliding around and over the slope of your ass.

You just watch, not sure if you should stop it, leave, put the distance between the two of you that you think you both need. Or stay. Stay and likely defile his office.

“Stop thinking,” he whispers darkly, gripping your ass through your trousers, pulling your hips flush against his. “You’re not going to go.”

You swallow, lifting your hands, sliding them over his hips, fingers slowly untucking his shirt from inside his trousers.

Watching him, the way his jaw tightens, his lips occasionally twitch between a smile and a smirk. His lips still close, but you haven’t moved,—even if you want to.

Even if that want is obvious to him and his senses, feeling your own arousal when you clench your thighs together.

“You can k—“

You don’t let him finish, kissing him. Hearing him groan, it vibrating against your lips, feeling his grip on your cheek tighten. Your back more forcibly being pressed against the door as your fingers slide to the front of his trousers, toying with the idea of loosening his belt.

Almost ready to undo it, to give in, to surrender.

And then you hear the main office door open, both of you pausing, not wanting to move until you hear laughter and then:

“Matt?” Foggy’s voice calling out, yanks you both apart. “I brought you food.”

Your heart in your throat, eyes burning into Matt’s—watching the colour drain from his cheeks as he licks his lips.

“I’ll go—“

“No,” he says, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair as Foggy calls out again. “Yeah, cool. Thanks, Fog… I’ll be… I’ll be out in a minute.”

He reaches his hand out, taking your elbow and your attention. “Come to mine. Tonight.”

You arch your brow. “You gonna leave out a window again?”

“No, I’ll be too busy.”

“Busy?”

He smirks, moving his lips close to your ear. “You’ll see tonight, sweetheart.”

Your body goes warm as he kisses your cheek, your hand reaching for the door handle as his fingers slowly release your elbow.

“Matt,” you whisper. His head turning in your direction. “If I leave tonight knowing my own name, you’ve failed.”

His smirk broadened. “Oh, sweetheart. You aren’t leaving tonight.”

His hand turning the door handle instead of allowing you a chance to reply, adrenaline thumping through you as you follow.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hold Your Breath (Matt Murdock)

Pairing: Matt Murdock X F Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You can't get enough of Matt, no matter how much you may pretend to hate him when you're in court.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, explicit sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), p in v, creampie, bit of mean!dom!Matt, but mostly dom!Matt, breathplay, choking, bit of degradation, so much dirty talk, established relationshipish (assume some form of contraceptive is used), language, this is just porn without a plot.

WC: 3.4k (sorry not sorry)

A/N: christ on a cross a i am such a fucking whore for matt. That bitch is a whore, so I must be a whore for him too. Seeing him in the most recent ep of she hulk left me feeling pretty horny for him so I wrote this in one sitting, you're welcome. Enjoy the sin you filthy matt whores (respectfully).

Note, if you're seeing this for a second time, yes I'm reposting it cause there were some issues with it showing up in the tags/dash. No changes tho.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

You weren’t quite sure how you got here. The journey from the bar to your apartment was all a blur to you. The mix of the light buzz the alcohol left in your system and the intoxicating feeling of his touch left you hazy. Although, in retrospect, this was such a horrible idea, you knew that deep, deep down. But Matt Murdock was the only man on this Earth you simply could not resist no matter how much your lives differed or how much you argued. 

To think that this morning you were just insulting each other, in lawyer's speech of course. And the glares you gave each other across the courtroom were anything but subtle. Or at least you were, you weren’t quite sure how that worked for him. But now, now you were anything but talkative, with his mouth on yours and his body pressing yours against a wall, his hands squeezing and gripping anywhere he could find. 

“Not so mouthy now, are we sweetheart?” He chuckled, his lips curved into a half smirk as he ravished the skin on your neck. You swallowed a lump, the only sound coming out of your mouth being a breathy gasp as his lips found your pulse. But no actual words ever came out of your mouth. “Didn’t think so.” 

His hands were quick to undo the buttons of your shirt, somehow with enough gentleness and steadiness as not to rip the fabric. You on the other hand, your shaky hands pulled at his tie with urgency, the buttons of his dress shirt following. Chills ran down your spine as he ran his tongue over the skin of your neck and you shivered even more when you felt him exhale heavily through his nose as your shirt joined his on the floor. And then he pulled back enough for you to see his face, his mythical glasses long forgotten along with his suit jacket. You could still see the dark shade of his eyes, even if the dim light of your apartment. And while his gaze was unfocused, you could feel it burn your skin.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke in nothing more than a low whisper as he leaned down to your face. A shaky exhale of your own fell from your lips as you tried to collect your thoughts, your head touching the wall as you looked at him hazily. The pounding your heart against your chest and the blood rushing to your ears was the distracting, the feeling of his hands were fucking distracting, you couldnt even speak. 

“Matt…” You tried to control your breathing, the feeling of his warm body against yours and his curious hands squeezing your bare thighs, but never quite lifting your pencil skirt being too fucking distracting to think, let alone speak. He had this effect on you, and you hated just how much you loved it. 

“What did I just say? After talking all that shit in court now you can’t talk?” He mocked you, his voice low and laced with amusement, amused at the power he held over you, because out there, you were this kick ass attorney who wouldn't take shit from anyone, but with him, with him you would forget all sense of reason and logic. And this wasn’t much different because you absolutely lost all sense of reason when he sneaked a hand up to your neck and grabbed your jaw, long fingers sprawled over your neck as he tilted your head back. He leaned down, his lips merely inches away from yours as he whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

The whimper that came out of your throat was almost pathetic. And that only riled Matt up even more. The way your breath hitched, the rapid beating of your heart. He could hear it so clearly, and it drove him crazy. He could feel your pulse, rapid under his fingers. He just wanted to squeeze it. He could just feel his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. But he only held you, expectant, his nose bumping yours and his warm and whiskey scented breath fanned over your face, but his lips never quite touched yours either. 

He fucking heard you, clear as day. The unsteady sound of your voice rang in his ears like a perfect harmony, like the perfect note he wanted to play over, and over again. 

It took you a second, but you found your words, so needy and desperate for him that you would say absolutely anything he wanted to hear.

“Please Matt, please fuck me.” Your voice was so shaky and barely audible, you weren’t quite sure if he heard. 

“See, you can speak.” He was mocking you now, a cocky smirk on his lips as he hoisted you up around his hips, the walk to your room pretty much automatic by then. 

“Fuck you Matt,” You muttered under your breath. You thought he didn’t hear you, but you should’ve known better by now. He chuckled dryly as he tossed you on your bed with enough force to knock your breath out of your lungs.

Your back fell on the mattress with a huff of air, his sudden manhandling catching you off guard, but then again he could be mean if he wanted to be. You turned your head to watch him as he stood beside your bed, your breath hitching in your throat as your eyes roamed his scar littered chest. The sight of him never ceased to amaze you. Matt being the ever so arrogant asshole that he was, only grew more cocky under your intense gaze, he could feel it and he could hear the way your heart beat faster as you looked at him. And with a smug smirk on his lips, he gripped his belt buckle, undoing it with an ungodly amount of patience. Ungodly for someone who wanted to fuck. He took his time with it, emphasizing even the smallest of movement of his fingers as he tugged his pants down his hips knowing it drove you fucking insane. The groan that left your mouth told him as much. 

“Matthew.” You glared at him as you sat up on your elbows, your tone being a mixture of desperate and authoritative. Matt couldn’t hold his laugh then. 

“That’s cute. You’re not in court sweetheart, you don’t get to use that tone.” His body was on top of yours as soon as he said those words and your back was flat on the mattress before you could even blink. A thick thigh claimed the spot between your legs as he leaned down to your face. “You have quite the nerve for someone who insulted me all morning and then begged me to fuck her.” 

Your lips parted, your breath shaky as your lips curved into a tiny grin, “I didn’t insult you.” You retorted, for a second finding your voice to speak back. But he only smirked more.

“Not per se, but you did question my ability to present my case, and my basic understanding about your client’s stupid company policies. There weren’t that fucking complicated. So you might as well have insulted me in the middle of the courtroom.” He let out a breathy chuckle, his tongue darting over his lips before he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “It made me want to rip this skirt right off and bend you over a goddamn table in front of everyone. I don’t like it when you test my patience.” 

“You’re a whore Matthew Murdock, you know that?” You laughed softly, the sound turning into a quiet hum when he ran one of his hands up the side thigh and to your skirt, unzipping the material before he was tugging it down your hips, adding the piece of clothing to the long pile of forgotten clothes. 

You couldn’t help it, the breathy moan that left your mouth was automatic and you could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter by the second, you subconsciously tried to rub your thighs together to create some friction, but you were met with Matt’s thigh and that only made you shudder when it grazed your clothed clit. 

“No, that’s you sweetheart. Miss ‘you’re never going to end up on my bed ever again’. You just can’t help it, can you?” Matt pointed out the last time you saw each other, and you swore you were going to be strictly professional with him from then on.

Until you saw him this morning, and you couldn’t stop yourself from inviting him inside your apartment when he offered to walk you home. But you hated to admit you couldn’t get enough of him just as he couldn’t get enough of you.

“It’s alright, I can’t help it either. When I hear the sound of your heartbeat, how fast it gets when I’m around, when I smell your perfume, when I hear your voice. Fuck, the things I want to do you, they’re anything but holy.” 

“I missed this, the way your body shudders, the goosebumps on your skin. You’re so…” He ran his fingers up your body, blunt nails scraping your skin until his hand landed on your face, two fingers pressed under your jaw, “Reactive.” 

Without another word, he pressed two fingers to your lips. He tugged at your bottom lip and you instinctively opened your mouth. He smirked, clearly pleased by your obedience, and without a warning he pushed those two fingers into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, eyes closed as you closed your lips around his fingers and sucked. 

“Good, keep that fucking mouth shut, I heard enough out of you today.” He coaxed with a mean cocky tone that made you clench around nothing. He pushed his fingers back and forth before he pressed them flat on your tongue, testing your reflexes. He waited carefully for a second or two and smirked to himself at the fact you remember what he taught you about holding your reflex. And once he was satisfied, he pulled his saliva coated fingers from your mouth and slipped them into your panties. 

His wet fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing circles around the bud as he spread the wetness. He felt the way you shuddered under him and the moan that left your mouth was anything but subtle. Soaking in the feeling of how your body reacted to his touch, he slipped the long digits into your wet core. He hummed in approval at how your tight walls took his fingers with ease. He dragged his fingers in and out, curling them around your most sensitive spot before pulling them back out. And again, and again, until your quick breaths turned into broken moans. 

“Matt,” You whined out, a delicious burn already building up in the pit of your stomach, but you wanted more. You needed more. “Please Matt. More.” 

Please Matt. 

Fuck how could he not? If you asked like that, he would do anything. 

His fingers left you in an instant, the loss being so sudden that you audibly gasped. But you were still a bit delirious, so you didn’t quite realize he tugged his boxers down his hips, but you did notice when you felt the fabric of your panties tug at your hip and then snap. You blinked a few times as you processed what he had just done and you stammered a few times. 

“Matthew.” You scolded him with a small eye roll, but you couldn’t be mad at him, especially not when he was pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your slick. 

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He chuckled, teeth digging into his bottom teeth as he held himself above you with his forearm and hooked one of your legs over his hips with the other. 

“You better.” You muttered, teeth digging into your own bottom lip and eyes fluttering close as he slipped inside you. 

“Quiet.” He groaned, his voice shuddering and his own eyes closing as he buried himself to the hilt. He sat still for five, maybe ten seconds, soaking in the feeling of your tight walls, the shudder of your thighs and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. He blocked out all other stimuli, his only focus being you and the feeling of you. And fuck did he love it. 

He threw his head back as he drew back his hips, taking in the sound of your shuddered whimper before he slammed himself back in and the sound of your moans filled his ears like the most erotic of melodies. He focused on that as he snapped his hips, fucking you into the mattress until the headboard collided with the wall. Over, over and over again. You neighbors must hate him. They probably have heard all variations of his name through those thin ass walls. Not that you were exactly modest with your volume, he made you feel good and everyone knew it. 

“Fuck Matt,” You cried out, your back arched against his chest and you hips slightly lifted off the mattress to collide with his pistoning hips. 

Matt shuddered, his jaw slightly twitching as he grabbed your hips with a bruising grip, holding you place as he sat back on his knees. Your moans mixed with his own quick breaths, so many sensations at once. It drove him crazy. His brain was on autopilot and without much thought, he slapped his free hand over your mouth. Your eyes shot open for a split second and your hand flew to grip his wrist, but you didn’t remove his hand. Your moans were muffled under his large hand, but he could still hear your heavy breathing and the fast beating of your heart. 

“I don’t want to hear another goddamn sound out of your mouth unless it’s my name.” He coaxed into your ear, keeping his hand clasped over your mouth. You simply nodded under his hand, not having much else to do. 

If there was something you absolutely loved about Matt, it was his determination and focus. He fucked like he fought, nearly expertly and with purpose. And his purpose was to send you over the end as many times as possible. And he knew he was damn close to hitting the first mark for the night. 

He hovered over your body, throwing both of your legs over his hips and bent your knees back until your ankles dangled over his back. And once he knew he found that perfect angle, he snapped his hips relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot he knew made your legs shudder and toes curl, over and over. And he did so, until you were nearly convulsing under him, your toes scratching up and down his back and your back wouldn’t stay down on the mattress. 

Only then did he remove his hand from your mouth, and almost as if it was pure instinct, he wrapped it around your neck instead as he leaned down to capture your lips into a filthy and messy kiss. 

“Matthew,” You moaned against his lips, the burning ache in your lower stomach being so intense that you couldn’t even keep your mouth closed long enough to kiss him. 

The way his name slipped from your tongue, and not just any variation of his name. Matthew. In that oh so intoxicating voice that screamed you were so close. He knew it. And he wanted to get you there. His fingers squeezed your throat as he sneaked his free hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing quick circles over your swollen clit. 

“Say it again.” He ordered, his hips giving you a particularly hard thrust that made your head tilt back into the pillows, and his own head twitched to the side as he tried to not to lose control. Not yet. Just a bit more

“Matthew.” His name fell from your lips in a broken cry, followed by uneven pants, the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls, his thumb on your clit and his hand constricting your air in the most delicious way possible being too much to handle all at once. 

The sounds that left your throat merely seconds after came out as broken and uneven moans as your oargasm washed over you. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy and tears of ecstasy blurred your vision as your walls squeezed Matt’s cock. His hips faltered and he shuddered, uneven pants leaving his lips as your wetness seeped around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead falling over yours and your still shuddering thighs hugged him close as his cock twitched and he fell still.

“Shit, fuck sweetheart.” He groaned, holding you down on his cock as he sat still. His hand squeezed your neck once again, his index finger pressing against your pulse point as he spilled himself inside you. 

Still hazy from your shuddering orgasm, you threw your arms over his shoulders, fingers threading through his dark hair as you quietly panted his name like a prayer you needed to say every night. His lips lazily brushed over your forehead before his head fell on your shoulder and he sat still, holding himself up on his forearm so as not to crush you with his weight. You were both silent outside of your uneven breaths. You liked being like this, like this was exactly where you both belonged, it felt so goddamn right. You wished he would stay. 

“Can I speak now?” You asked quietly in a whisper, the giggle that left your lips also in a whisper. 

Matt chuckled lowly, inhaling deeply before he rolled over onto his back, leaving you empty much to your dismay. He bit his lip and faced up at the ceiling, as if he was debating it. You scrunched up your face and playfully smacked his chest. 

“Sure, you may.” He chuckled and turned his head in your direction, his arm behind his head. You bit your lip, the corners curved up into a tiny smile as you leaned your chin on his chest and looked up at him. 

“Is this considered a conflict of interest?” You asked, brushing the tip of your nail over one of the more prominent scars on his chest. His eyes darted around for a second or two and he frowned. 

“Why would it be?”

“I still have to see you in court tomorrow. You’re on the plaintiff and I'm on the defense soo.” You reminded him of the whole reason why you had even seen each other in the first place. 

His eyebrows shot up and he shrugged his shoulders dismissively, puckering his bottom lip a bit, “I wouldn’t call it conflict of interest, just highly unethical perhaps.”

You snorted, pressing your forehead against his chest and he laughed too. He leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair as he wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you against his side, “You would know a thing or two about unethicalness wouldn’t you Murdock?”

“Shut up.” He laughed and shook his head, the now steadier but still quick beat of your heart filling his ears like a lullaby. He could fall asleep like this. “Can I stay?”

Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his request. You didn’t have the sleep over, fall asleep together and have breakfast kind of relationship, so him asking you if he could stay over made your heart skip a beat. 

You looked up at him with big eyes, thinking he was just fucking with you, but he wasn’t, he looked dead srious so you cleared your throat. “We have to go to court tomorrow morning.”

Matt rolled his eyes like you were stating the obvious, “Yes, I know. That wasn’t my question,” He looked down at you, his unfocused gaze fixing on you, “Can I stay the night?” He repeated, completely serious this time, so you knew he meant it.

“That’s very unethical Mr. Murdock,” You bit your lip as you leaned up to his lips, not being able to hold back the smile, “Yeah, you can stay over.” 

Matt blew out a breath of relief, for a second thinking he overstepped, but his confidence quickly returned and he smirked, leaning down to capture your lips into a deep kiss that took your breath away, “Quiet, before I put those lips to better uses.” 

Yeah, Matt Murdock was going to be the fucking death of you. And you loved it.

[cellophaine]

Silk Thread

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: soft!dark!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Breeding kink – soft!dark!Matt, unprotected sex, creampie, possessive tendency and behaviour.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 👻

Going out with a bang. Literally. I can't believe this is the last Kinktober prompt 😭 I hope that you guys enjoyed what I had to offer for this past month!! This is definitely not the end of my smutty slutty Matt phase (which had gone on for well over a year), but until next time when I have more depraved thoughts and ideas for our little hoe 🖤 P/S: I do have a face-riding prompt to write coming next month so ... 👀

GIF Credit: @mrssylargray

When the inky darkness of the night draped itself over the New York sky, you often found your eyes drifting over to the window, where the fire escape was. You kept the window slightly ajar in the hope of finding your frequent visitor standing outside, casually letting himself in. It was an open invitation, and he hadn't taken it on since over three weeks ago.

Matt came and went. He never stayed, but he always left something behind each time he stopped by. Love bites on your chest and neck, carefully hidden by your hair, high-neck tops or scarves. The ache between your thighs that you could feel for days afterwards for no one could satiate it. You never knew the next time you'd see him, and he always made sure you would miss him long after he was gone with something that only you knew.

There was something different about tonight. You jolted awake to the feeling of Matt nosing at your neck, kissing and sucking on your sweat-clasped skin. He spread your thighs, which were pliant to his handling, and slotted himself in between. You could feel the familiar hard length poking at your thigh, seeking release in your tight cunt. You didn't know what got into him or why he was here after ignoring you, but the marks he was leaving on your skin felt too good to stop, and the thoughts soon escaped your mind with each breathy moan he drew from you.

You reached for a condom from your bedside table, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist, deepening the kiss by pressing you into the bed. It struck you as unusual because Matt had always been careful about it, which was why you always had something ready. His deadly reticence gave away nothing. Matt continued to prolong the silence as he gave himself a few pumps before breaching your entrance with his cock. You gasped at the intrusion, squirming in his hold, your mind sensing something was off. Yet, your body had already submitted to him, reducing your thoughts to how good he felt in your weeping core. You could feel the mushroom tip when he pulled out all the way, just to plunge into you again. The thick girth, the smooth skin and protruding veins were all in their naked glory, and you could feel it all. The foreign feel of his bareness punched the resistance out of you, rendering you pliant with his thrusts. His hands caged your wrists, making it impossible to escape. You tugged on the shackles, and a broken sob escaped your lips. Matt answered your with hard thrusts of his hips, pistoning into you like he had no other choice.

"Did you have anyone else while I was gone?"

His grave tone was very telling, yet all the same confusing to you in your docile state. You muttered between breathy moans, for he continued to punish you with his hard thrusts.

"N– No…."

There was only him. You didn't care for anyone else.

"Then why am I smelling another man on you?"

You broke through the stupor at his stern and reprimanding tone. You looked at Matt, eyes wide, to see the furrow of frustration in his brows, the frown on the beautiful curves of his lips. All with his hard, deep thrusts into your greedy cunt. You realized he meant it, every word. He exuded control, even in this situation when he was supposed to let go, forget, lose himself in you, and allow you the same things.

The scent he mentioned that had you scrunch your nose with a mild aversion was strong, repugnant, and belonged to Jude - your colleague. You went out for happy hour with some people from work, and Jude felt more than friendly with you after two drinks. He draped an arm over you, and despite your polite and firm rejection, he kept pushing for something more until your mood was soiled, and you left abruptly.

You figured Matt caught a whiff of the other man's cologne, and he was not happy.

"No, no, there is only you. No one else."

He pulled out, which made you whine at the loss. Your hips jutted up to find his cock, begging him to spear into you again. You groaned in frustration, swatting a hand on his firm chest. He kept teasing you with the tip of his cock, barely touching your folds, driving you crazy, and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Please … I missed you. I need you."

You wouldn't cry, but at that moment, you felt like you could. All in the name of his cruelty.

"Prove it."

That was all you needed. With one leg hooked over Matt's thigh, you maneuvered him onto his back to put yourself on top. From your new point of view, he was divine. Hair ruffled, unseeing eyes shone with a hint of mischief and please, full lips parted and inviting for all the troubles you could find yourself in. You wiggled your hips, finding his cock with one hand before sinking down on his girth until he bottomed out inside you. The wide head reached your end, nudging at that spot inside you that made your brain fuzzy. You couldn't help but shudder, revelling in the feeling of him going deeper than before. After a long moment of soaking it all in, you started bouncing on his cock, settling into the familiar rhythm you missed. A hand grazed your thigh until it dropped onto your hip, helping you to meet his upward thrusts. The tingling sensation raced across your spine, making you arch into him. Matt drew your breast into his mouth, sucking on the supple flesh sloppily. His tongue flicked over the hardened nipple, teasing your frazzled nerves with his skillful mouth. The composition of needy moans pouring from your throat was silk in his ears, hauntingly beautiful. It made him ache for you when he couldn't come around. You brought his hand to your chest, giving the scarred knuckles and long fingers a squeeze. He understood your wordless beseech and started playing with your bosom in his rough palm.

Matt pulled his skilled mouth from your breast with a pop, his unsighted eyes hooded and dazed with lust.

"Look at you. So desperate for me. Use me to get off."

With your current position, he went impossibly deep. He pressed a hand to your tummy, feeling the little bulge there every time you lowered until your folds met the heavy base.

"Take me so well. You want my seeds deep in your guts, don't you?"

You couldn't manage an answer, only pathetic whimpers. Matt's words stroked a fire in your lower belly, spurring you to pick up the pace.

"I'll pump you so full of my cum, you'll feel me for days.

You threw your head back, feasting yourself drunk with his bedroom talk.

"I'll fill you up until you're swollen with my child. Others will know you belong to me."

Your eyes snapped open as you faltered, and your pace gradually slowed. There wasn't a hint of frivolity on Matt's face in the way he planted his footing on your mattress so he could fuck up into you. Your heart was torn between the sheer exhilaration from his want to possess you in that way and your uncertainty about the same thing. But you didn't have a choice in the matter as Matt locked you in place with his hands on either side of your hips, pulling you down onto his punishing thrusts. The only way you could go was up and down.

The squelching of your cunt on his cock was sinful; your juice created an obscene, messy ring at the base, coating his balls in your arousal. Your walls squeezed him tightly, and a corner of Matt's lips lifted in a complacent smirk. He knew when someone was afraid, and you were far from it. Even though you didn't say it, deep down inside, you were excited at his promise of putting a child in you. He wanted to mark you in every way possible out of fear that you would slip away from his grasp. What he didn't know was that every atom of you had already belonged to him.

You believed him and his threat, punctuated with hard thrusts. Matt's face contorted in a euphoric determination with deadly focus as an indication of how much he meant it. Matt was jealous, which showed in the way his arms were shackled to your body, chaining you to him while he rutted into you, taking you, claiming you as his. Not even the bounds of your bedroom could stop him from letting anyone who dared to make an advance toward you know that you belonged to him. You would be swollen with his child, and that would be enough for when he wasn't around.

His possessiveness over you and the fact he wanted to pump you full of his seeds made your core flutter, milking him for all his worth, forcing him to fulfill his promise. You wanted to feel his spent leaking out of your folds as you dozed off from exhaustion so he could fill you up again when the morning came. You locked him between your thighs, your walls clamped tight onto his aching shaft, begging him for the hot fluid you deserved. Matt came with a broken grunt, spilling deep in your guts, triggering your own release. His warmth spread in your core, painting your inner walls white with a generous blessing, and you could feel it trickle down due to your position on top. Matt put you on your back again with a swift and effortless shift, with his cock still inside. The movement stirred at the spongy spot inside you, ripping a sharp cry from your throat. Matt found your hips with his hands, angling your bottom so his cum would stay inside. There was so much that it overflowed, the white fluid seeping through the snug space between his cock and your abused cunt.

Matt pulled his softening cock out and ran two fingers through your wet folds, pushing his cum back inside you. You stayed like that for a long moment, Matt's hands stroking your clammy skin softly, bringing you down from the high. Matt placed a kiss on your sensitive clit, tasting his essence and yours, satisfied with how his seeds had stayed in their rightful place.

He gently placed you on the bed again, pulling the ruffled duvet over your naked body before getting off; the mattress dipped with every movement. Tears stung your eyes as you could hear the familiar rustles of clothes. But this time, you didn't let them fall to your cheeks. You grasped at his wrist, putting a stop to his automatic routine. You wanted to have him to yourself, even if it was just one night.

"Stay with me. Please."

Matt could pretend he didn't know what compelled him to stay, but he knew it was you. The sheer vulnerability in your voice. The little quiver that you tried to hide. Every little thing about you. It was strange to see you slip through his reserved demeanour, reaching for something you found within him. Something that made you want him. After what he had done moments before, Matt would condemn himself for lying to you, for not securing his place in your personal space. He deserved it, Matt thought, with a little uncertainty and his hope high. He deserved you.

Abandoning his clothes on the floor, Matt climbed into your bed again. Once he settled down underneath the duvet, you gravitated towards him, putting a tentative hand on his torso, afraid that he would deny you of something so small and insignificant. But he didn't push you away, and you quickly succumbed to the fatigue, much easier and better with his warmth.

He would leave once you fell asleep, Matt told himself. But he, too, surrendered to your warmth and safety, something he thought he would never find in anybody else. When the morning came, Matt would find himself drifting closer to you, his limbs tangled with yours. And for the first time in a long time, he would feel peace instead of the constant need to run, to hide, to conceal himself. Matt would stay then, and many nights after that, for he was in no rush to be anywhere else but beside you.

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

[myownwutheringheights]

Trying

Rating and AN: M. Minors DNI. You are responsible for your own media consumption and have been warned. Not beta read, what is editing. It’s not perfect but it’s mine 🥰 Enjoy the combo of Fluff & Filth

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader, established relationship

Warnings: Post sex, discussion of unprotected sex (wrap it up!)/unprotected p in v/hormonal birth control talk/sex with the intent of pregnancy, Matt Murdock should have his own warning, author has a breeding kink that she refuses to apologize for

Summary: You’re basking in the afterglow of you and Matt trying for a baby for the first time

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The cozy, almost sleepy feeling was starting to overcome you both as you both settled into the bed. Your heart rate was beginning to settle and calm, your breathing returned to normal, perhaps even slower than normal. More content. It felt like pure peace in the afterglow of the intense love making you’d shared. Matt had settled behind you, leaving you as the happy little spoon. Your head rested against the cradle of his arm and shoulder, his arm lined up with yours. His fingers laced with yours while his legs were tangled with yours, bare chest to your back, your ass rested against his lap, his cock still hard against you, and you know you’d go again for another round soon.

He was a man on a mission. You’d read it it in his expression, in the way he’d moved with you with every thrust till he’d come inside you. You still felt warm with his seed buried deep in you, and some of it dripping from you.

But perhaps your favorite with this position was the placement of his other arm, draped around your lower abdomen, as if willing the act of creation to occur in that very moment, and you couldn’t seem to wipe away the gentle smile on your face. “I don’t think it happens that fast, Matty,” you chuckle gently, lovingly teasing him. You loved the feeling of his hand there. You didn’t want the warmth of his palm to leave you. You felt so safe and protected wrapped up in him, protected in the arms of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And you knew his hand would stay there whenever your belly would swell and grow from his child.

He answered your chuckle with one of his own. “Yes, I know. But a man can hope….imagine,” he smiled, that glorious smile, placing soft kisses against your shoulder. You settled more into his arms if it was possible, curling against him as you tug the sinfully soft sheets up more as you snuggle up. He smiles even more as you wiggle in; you want to be closer. “My sweet girl….nesting already?”

You nod playfully, knowing he feels it. “Sure am. And you’re pretty comfy.” All abs and muscle. Warm. But even draped in his arms with the smell of sex and desire still in the air, cozy and comfy and content, you still want him closer.

“I’m right here…” he reassures you as you fight to get as close as you can and Matt lets out the most amazing sound as you rub against his still hard cock, more precum dripping from him. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll have to fuck you again” He nips down at the sensitive curve of your neck this time, making you let out a gasp as he clutches you tighter in his arms. “Is that what you want? For me to come inside you again? Till you’re overflowing with me?”

You bite down on your lip and a small whimper escapes as he scatters tender kisses over you. “You like being this way don’t you? With my cum inside you, dripping out of you?” His voice was lower with lust as he snaked his hand between your legs, fingers grazing over the seed and slick that had leaked from you, making you whimper again. You can’t even form words, couldn’t answer his filthy question if you tried. “And don’t try lying, your heart’s racing.” As if you needed a reminder of how well he can read you, how well he knows you.

You let out a cry as Matt presses two fingers inside your sensitive folds, pushing his cum that had dripped out back inside you and it’s so achingly intimate. “Don’t let a drop go to waste, sweetheart,” he whispered with a brush of his lips against your ear, tugging ever so slightly at your earlobe, knowing what his words did to you. “God, I can’t wait to feel your body change,” he says, making you smile at the idea as he kisses along your jaw as he continues to move his fingers inside you, knowing every inch of you, knowing just how you like it till you you gasp out and he captures your mouth in his.

His lips part yours, your tongues dancing as he slowly pulls his fingers out from you. What remains on his fingers he brings up to your mouth and you greedily take his two fingers into your mouth, his juices mixed with yours. You nip on the pads of his finger tips, and ensure he can hear you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” his smile is radiant.

“Stop talking and kiss me, Murdock.” He knows full well your smile matches his own as you pull him down for a long, warm and deeply intimate kiss. You wanted to memorize this moment, this feeling of basking in the afterglow and the feeling of his love and hope for the what the future would hold.

You two had talked about kids from early on; debating and questioning if it was the right choice. Not for lack of wanting, no, it was something you both wanted. There was just so much to consider and there was an elephant in the room; children and vigilantes didn’t seem like the best combination. He was Daredevil, you knew this. He’d always be Daredevil. And you loved both sides of him; you accepted both parts of his life. You were a little too familiar to the risk and danger his world and his secret work presented. You knew full well what you could lose…..everything.

But life was always risk. There were no promises or guarantees.

And you wanted this. You wanted him, and all he could give you and all you could give him. You wanted a family with him. The same way he wanted this with you. And when you’d told him you wanted this, you were saying yes to both parts of him being the father of your child. And you’d never forget that look, the surprise and joy written in his expression and that smile slowly spreading across his face when you’d silenced your birth control alarm for good, and thrown out what was left. He’d longed for this with you, not even truly being able to imagine himself being a father till he met you. But he’d wanted to be absolutely sure you were ready. And now you both were ready for this, you both wanted this.

Together.

Maybe you’d thought you both could have changed your minds a month later or more, after getting the birth control out of your system. Or maybe one or both of you would have felt different when you told him you were ovulating. Or after you’d made love, and tried for the first time, after you screamed his name and begged him to come inside you, after he’d roared out and after he’d spilled inside you without protection. With no barriers. But it was the opposite. The feeling of bliss was brighter than the neon sign outside your apartment. The bed felt more comfortable, the sheets felt softer and you couldn’t imagine a better feeling. Matt was kissing you with his hands cupped along your cheek and the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, and he was moving to climb back on top of you, desperate to get back inside you. To try over and over, filling you up with him. Your legs spread for him and wrapped on instinct around his waist to draw him in as one arm clung to the strong muscles of his back, the other moving into his dark hair. He moans, his scalp sensitive as your fingers move through his hair.

“You plan to keep me up all night?” You tease as your hand leaves his hair to cup his cheek as he kisses you again and again, making you giggle.

“That was my plan. Any complaints?” The corner of his mouth curved into that cocky smile you loved so much.

“None whatsoever…” you whisper, resting your forehead to his, taking a peaceful moment, still basking in those feelings of utter contentment, settling back into the pillows. “Matt?” You whisper, “you’re going to be an amazing dad…”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he stays there, rested against you and nearly inside you. You run your fingers up and down his back, waiting for him to speak when he’s ready. He touches his hand to your chin to tilt your head up ever so slightly, kissing your forehead, your temple, and finally your lips, slow and sweet with a promise of so many things. “Thank you…” it’s all he could say, the emotions choked up in his throat as he deepens that kiss. He wanted to say so much more; how much that meant to him, how he’d do his best. How he’d fight for you, fight for your children till his last breath. But he didn’t say those things now; there was plenty of time to tell you those things. “And you, y/n, you are going to be the most amazing mother,” his voice was so tender and gentle as his arms wrapped around you tight and secure. Safe.

Home.

“Then what are you waiting for? Give me a baby.” You’ve never felt so certain and so excited for anything in your life.

“With pleasure,” he says, with one last smirk on his handsome face. All that mattered to him in this moment was taking care of you, giving you what you asked, and what he also so desperately wanted. Tonight he was a man determined, with one goal. The love of your life, the man who would be the father of your children, your Matthew, your Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

All other thoughts left you, and then you were already crying out his name, content in his arms, begging for him as he fills you up to try once more.

[burstanddecay]

In the low lamplight (Matt Murdock x f!reader) (18+)

Summary: As your shitty day comes to a peak in his kitchen, Matt is determined to coax you into accepting something other than your self-deprecating thoughts.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (afab) f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Content warning: 18+ content. Reader cursus like a sailor. Daddy issues (the actual kind, not the sexual ones), childhood trauma (emotional, not physical), emotional hurt/comfort, teasing, thigh riding, orgasm (both parties), Matt using the words ‘good girl’ because he can. Word count: 4.9K

Author’s note: Baby’s first explicit fic, so I am absolutely terrified of posting this. This also happens to come from a personal place: I started this when I was very angry at the world, lmao. The only difference is that I do not have a Matt to make me forget my problems. This is un-beta’d. Also on AO3

With a clatter, the contents splatter everywhere as the cast iron pan hits the floor at your feet.

“God fucking damnit. Fuck. FUCK.”

You cradle your burned hand, kicking the pan to the side as you turned to the sink, letting the lukewarm water run over your palm as your elbows rested on the edge of the counter, head hung low between your shoulders. You didn’t register the door opening, or Matt walking across the apartment in the blink of an eye until the door falls shut and he comes to a halt just outside the kitchen area.

“What happened?” he asks, careful not to step in any of the food. A feat in and of itself: you’re pretty sure the sauce is spread all over the cabinets and floor. It wouldn’t surprise you if some of it was smeared on the back of Matt’s leather sofa, either.

“Wet towel,” you murmur, turning the tap off and wiping your hands on said towel, not offering any further explanation.

“Hmm,” he hums, stepping closer. “You okay?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

He shows you a half smile, the rest of his facial expression hidden behind his crimson glasses. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the truth,” he muses.

“What do you want me to fucking say, Matt?” you snap, wetting a dishcloth and dropping to your knees, scooping the spilled dinner into the pan at your side. “Everything is turning to fucking shit and I wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed the pan with dinner, the one thing I was sure I wouldn’t fuck up, and I picked it up with a wet towel and burned my hand. Hence dinner being spread across the floor of your apartment, and not on a plate, like I meant for it to be.”

He doesn’t reply, merely cocking his head to the side ever so slightly as he was facing you.

You bristle against his unfocussed stare, against the knowledge that he was searching for your heartbeat, listening to other tells of your body that could tell him what was wrong.

“Can you not.”

He doesn’t reply, but instead pulls at his pantlegs and crouches down to get to eyelevel.

“I know it can’t be just the dinner, sweetheart.”

Your jaw tenses, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth as you bite down hard on the side of your cheek, several emotions fighting each other for fist place. You fish the last chunks of tomato and bell pepper off the floor, wiping your hands on the dishtowel and lean back on your heels.

“What happened today?”

You look up at him, at the soft expression on his face, before quickly looking away, ignoring the tears stinging behind your eyes.

He doesn’t push, knowing it would only fuel the anger and frustration coursing through your veins. Instead, he stays put, not moving towards you but not away either, hands loosely dangling between his knees.  

“My dad,” you eventually say, looking up at the ceiling in a final attempt to blink the tears away. “Every time I think we take a step forwards… He just... He ends up stabbing me in the back regardless. And mom says he loves me, and that he just doesn’t know how to say it,” a bitter laugh slips past your lips, your cheeks wet with tears that had started to steadily trickle down. “He never learned how to say it, how to express it. Or anything, for that matter.”

You take a shaky breath, looking over at Matt, who merely gave a small smile in return to encourage you to continue.

“I thought it would be better when I moved, and it is, for the most part. But then there’s still days where I am back to seventeen years old and being ignored for a month straight because I did something to displease him.”

You finick with your hands, pulling at the already raw skin of your cuticles, the sight blurry through your tears. It made you feel small, insignificant, sitting here on the kitchen floor of your boyfriends apartment, surrounded by a mess you made. It wasn’t like Matt doesn’t have enough to worry about: you know he does. Along with his late night activities as Daredevil, the firm had been busy after taking a big case that garnered them much deserved attention.

Yet here you were, with the comparatively small issue that was the feeling that your father didn’t love you. It felt so insignificant, so trivial compared to the problems you knew graced Matt’s life on a daily basis.  

“I can hear you thinking,” he says softly, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. “Not the good kind, either.”

You snort. “I happen to be very good at that, to be fair.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean you deserve it, though.”

“Don’t deserve what?” you ask, pawing at your face to wipe away the excess tears.

“Whatever it is that you’re telling yourself.”

A laugh bubbles up as you push your hair out of your face and reached for the dishcloth. “It’s true, though.”

He stays quiet, and you can feel him observing you as you wipe away at the stains across the kitchen cabinets and floor. It wasn’t observing in the literal sense: he had explained that he really couldn’t see you beyond a very vague silhouette, but that he rather listened to someone’s heartbeat and breathing pattern to get a sense of what they weren’t telling him.

“I want to meet him,” he eventually says, catching you completely off guard.

“What?” you frown, pausing mid-wipe.

“I want to meet your father.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” you scoff. “He’d be a complete ass. That man wouldn’t know how to be friendly if his life depended on it.”

“I want to meet the person that makes you feel this way about yourself,” Matt replies, giving a little shrug. “For undisclosed and unrelated reasons, I will be out of town tomorrow.”

You sit back on your heels again, an amused smile ghosting across your face.

“Are you now.”

“No.” The word is accompanied by a wide grin. “Made you smile, though.”

You huff out a soft laugh, a small smile on your face as you scoot over a little, focussing on cleaning the remaining stains, ignoring the small pang of hurt still blossoming in your chest.

“In all seriousness,” he continues. “I know how much it hurts you, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve any of it. Not whatever it was this time, or the things you experienced as a child. None of it.”

“I shouldn’t complain, really,” you say, the words bitter in your mouth as you put more pressure behind your scrubbing. “I still have both my parents. They were supportive enough.”

Matt sighs softly, scrubbing a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew.

Satisfied with lack of sauce spread across the kitchen, you reach for the pan and get up, tossing the remains in the trash and placing the pan itself on the counter to deal with later. Turning on the tap, you carefully scrub your hands with soap until they’re sauce free, shaking the majority of the water off before reaching for the dry towel hanging off the handle of the oven door.

“I can make us a grilled cheese,” you say as move over to the fridge, looking for more ingredients that could be pulled together into a semi-edible dinner. “I think you have a canned soup in your pantry, or I can run to the bodega to grab one. There’s some leek and left over bell pepper, so I could make an omelette—”

You’re cut off as you feel a pair of arms snaking around your waist, Matt’s hot breath ghosting across your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Stop.”

You squirm against his hold, trying to break free out of his grasp.

“I’m not going to let go, sweetheart.”

“I am trying to make you dinner, Matthew.”

“It can wait.”

The warm prick of tears stings behind your eyes again and you try to squirm your way out of Matt’s grip, but he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t say a word as your breath hitches in your throat, merely guiding you a step back and closing the refrigerator.

You hadn’t noticed until now, but stuck to the door with a tiny magnet was a photo of you.

It was the final straw.

Your face crumples and you are unable to stop the sob wracking through your chest at the sight of it. It was stupid: there wasn’t a single piece of art, decorative pillow or vase of flowers to be found in his entire apartment, but there was a picture you stuck the door of your blind boyfriend’s fridge. A picture he couldn’t even see, but it was there, nonetheless.

He lets go, his hands running up and down your arms as you bury your face in your hands, crying harder than you’ve done in years, barely aware that he was spinning you around and pulling you to his chest, leaning back into the countertop as he did. His hands are gentle as one cradles the back of your head and the other is rubbing light circles on your back, not saying a word as your head rests against his chest, staining his shirt with both tears and left over sauce you were undoubtedly transferring, something you tell him in between hiccupping breaths.

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can get a new one. That’s something we can easily fix.”

Knowing it was something that would have led to anger in a different situation, with different people, the tears seem to be never ending, chest aching with ancient scars that feel like they’ve been torn wide open.

Through the tears, Matt is unmoving, taking the thing in calm grace as if it were merely the tide coming in, and not a tsunami crashing across a village. It felt like the latter: the anger and hurt towards your relationship with your father was something laid in waiting, waiting to strike when you least expected it. It was always the smallest things that triggered it out its hiding spot, something that shouldn’t matter but that he managed to blow up into something that he would inevitably spin into a narrative that would place the blame on you.

It was something that made you sad; the kind of sad where it ends up festering into self destructive anger. It was anger at the way it was now, and anger at the fact it had always been like that: the one person that was supposed to be there with unconditional love was the one that put terms and conditions on it.

But it wasn’t Matt’s fault. It wasn’t, yet you had exploded into his face, sending the shrapnel of your anger flying into his unsuspected stature.

“I’m sorry I’m a mess,” you eventually say when the tears have stopped flowing as harshly, letting go of him and setting a step back. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You laugh wetly in reply.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Don’t be. I’m a mess, too. Foggy is a mess. Karen is a mess. We’re all messes in our own accord, sweetheart. The reasons might be different, but none of us are always doing okay. And that’s fine. That happens. Doesn’t make you a bad person, it just makes you human.”

You hadn’t noticed he had taken his glasses off until you looked up at his face, meeting unfocussed brown eyes instead of his glasses. You knew he meant every word of it: he had told you about his own struggles. He had told you how dark the world had seemed to him, how he had only seen the pain and hurt in his life and no longer the good surrounding him. How he had isolated himself and locked every single person that saw the good him in out, until there was nothing but darkness and anger surrounding him.

It was on days like this, where everything accumulated into a giant mess that left you unable to see the good in your life that Matt would take your hand and let you know you were more than that, that the good was still there but hidden behind everything else.

His hand cupped your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile, laying your hand over his, feeling tired but also lighter than before. “I know. I love you, too. Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

A silence falls between you, nothing but the busy street below and the low hum of the fridge audible in the apartment.

“Let me cook dinner,” he eventually says, his hand moving down to your hip and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

“I love you, but you’re absolutely useless in the kitchen, Matt,” you laugh, amused at his offer. “You’re not cooking us dinner.”

“Are you implying that a blind person can’t cook?” he mocks, one eyebrow quirked and a wide smile on his face.

“No. I am implying that you specifically would burn water. You keep losing the recipe for making ice cubes.”

His mouth falls open. “That is so mean and you know it's not true.”

You grin in reply, beelining across the kitchen in an attempt to get away from him as he stalks after you. You run into the bedroom, trying to close the sliding doors before he can make it in, but he is far faster than you, one arm pulling you into his chest before you’re able to dive onto the bed to roll over it.

“Didn’t think so, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear, closing the door behind him, his hand snaking up to your chin as he stood behind you, not quite pressed against your back but so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You grin breathlessly as his thumb brushes over your lips, the other fingers bracing your jaw. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

“Gonna show you just how capable I am of taking care of you,” he replies calmly, breath hot in your neck. “Don’t need sight for that.”

Your breathing falters ever so slightly at his tone, desire coiling hotly in your lower belly as he guides your forward until your knees brush the side of his bed.

“Say the word and I will stop. We will sit on the couch, order take out and you can watch a movie. Nothing happens right now without your okay. Understood?”

His hand feels as if it’s searing a hole through your shirt with the way it spans across your ribs, the other still holding onto your jaw. There was nothing possessive about it: if anything, it was gentle, warm, caring.

You nod, a soft huff of disapproval whispered across your ear.

“Words, please, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” you whisper in return.

“Do you want this?”

“Please,” you reply, unable to keep the whiny edge out of your voice. “Yes. Please.”

You can feel him grinning as he presses hot kisses to the side of your neck, brushing your hair to the side.

“Good girl.”

You try to supress the shiver rolling through your body at those words. He didn’t use them often: his preferred term was sweetheart, using it more often than your actual name. Rarely there was baby, usually reserved for late nights, dim lighting and lazy kisses. Even less often than that there was the occasional darling, when you accompanied him to professional events.

But the words good girl only made their appearance when he had one goal in mind.

Getting you off and asking nothing in return.

He guides you forward, onto the bed until you’re sat back on your heels between Matt’s thighs, his chest pressed against your back.

In a torturously slow pace, the hand that had been resting on your jaw crawled it’s way down, his fingers leaving a scorching hot trail as they travelled down your throat, skimming across your collarbone, grazing the side of your breast and down your ribs until both his hands were resting at your waist.

You lean your head back onto his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your body as you practically melt into him.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice rumbling lowly through his chest. “There’s my girl. It’s all about you right now. Whatever you want.”

“Don’t have to do that,” you reply, eyes closed and revelling in the intimacy of the moment. “’s a two way street.”

“Not tonight.”

Not a quite a command, but as close as he would get to it.

You think on it for a moment, absentmindedly running your nails up and down his thighs until he shivers behind you. You laugh, the sound bright and warm, a stark contrast to how you’d been feeling ten minutes ago.

“You sure about that?” you ask, shifting positions to look at him with a grin, well aware of the fact that he has to actively stop himself from rolling his hips against you to bring the slightest relief to the hardness straining against the zipper of his slacks.

“I’m starting to doubt it,” he smiles. “But yes. Let me just think about something horrible for a second—”

“Matthew!” you scold in faux horror, slapping his chest, something that is met with a wide grin.

“Kidding, kidding.”

“I think I just want to make you come in your pants,” you deadpan, pushing against his chest until he gets the memo, scooting back until he’s sat against the headboard. “Or just get you so hard and worked up that you can’t think straight and then just leave.”

He grins widely, hands resting on your hips as you move to sit on his lap. “I love it when you get cocky. It’s very sexy.”

You don’t reply, instead choosing to focus on untying his tie. You know you could just easily pull it over his head, discarding of it that way, but you revel in the micro expressions flashing across his face as your fingers brush against the base of his throat as you work the knot loose.

“Should tie you up with it,” you softly say, gliding your hands down the silk fabric before moving to unbutton his shirt, touch feather light as you elicit another shiver from him. “Would that be okay?”

You can see his breath hitching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily as he swallows.

Leaning forward, your hands pressed against his bare chest, you ask again in a soft whisper against his ear.

“Would that be okay, Matthew?”

“Yes.”

The word is barely a whisper, a confession almost disappearing into nothing.

“Next time,” you promise him, gently pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Had other ideas for now.”

He smiles in return, fingers digging into your hips as you scoot a little higher onto his lap, biting back a whine as you revel in the wave of pleasure crashing over you at the friction the combination of Matt’s thighs and your jeans provide.

“Ah,” he breathes, smile widening into something soft, as if he’d been waiting for it.

“There we are.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, no real bite behind the words.

“You gonna ride my thigh, sweetheart? Think you can make yourself come that way?”

His fingers are ghosting across your top of your jeans, as gentle as the expression on his face, not making any decisions before you make them.

“I know you can,” he continues. “Seen you do it before.”

You flush in a wave embarrassment, ducking your head and biting your lip as you avoid looking up at him.

“Hey, hey, no,” he tells you sternly, guiding your head back up with a finger hooked under your chin. “None of that. Not here. Not with me.”

You pause as he drops his hand, taking a moment to take in the man sitting beneath you. The neon sign outside cast a reddish-pink light across his features, the sight familiar and comforting as he shows you a crooked smile.

“Love you,” you mutter softly, the feeling all encompassing.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me. Show me how you feel, sweetheart. I want you to ride my thighs until you come so hard you’re left a quivering mess. I want you to tie me up and ride me until you see stars. I want you to take whatever makes you feel good, without expecting anything in return. Whatever that looks like, I can take it.”

“Jesus, Matt,” you breathe, heat crawling up your spine at his blunt confession.

“Language, sweetheart,” he retorts, the grin on his face devastating.  

You don’t bother thinking of a witty reply, but rather pull your shirt over your head before crashing your lips into his, knocking teeth together in your hurry to devour him whole. His hands are everywhere: across your back, on your hips, in your hair: you can’t keep track as you tug at his open shirt, urging him to sit forward as you push it past his shoulders. He quickly tossed it off the bed before his hands are finding their way back onto your body, his shifting causing more friction that leaves you moaning into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss at the sound, his hand spanning between your shoulder blades as he presses you chest to chest, getting you as close as he could in this position.

“There you go,” he breathes, his other hand at the nape of your neck, mouth leaving wet kisses on the side. You grind into him shamelessly at this point, his hard cock now definitely straining against his zipper, providing more of that friction you were desperately chasing. It wasn’t enough: you desperately wanted him as close as you could get him.

Your hand snakes into his hair, pulling his head back as he lets out a low hiss, the other digging crescent moons into his shoulder as your fingernails claw into his skin, kissing his neck with a sense of urgency as his low moan shifts into a chuckle.

“Gonna actually come in my pants if you keep this up, sweetheart,” he confesses, the words almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to make you feel bad.

“Aren’t you lucky that I want to finish with you inside,” you whisper with a grin, pressing a kiss just below his ear, something that earns you yet another shiver as your hands move to unzip his pants before moving off his lap, handing him a condom from the nightstand as you shimmy your way out of your jeans, leaving you in a mismatched pair of underwear consisting of cotton panties and a bra that didn’t match in colour.

The chilly air of the apartment in late autumn crashed over you, making you shiver, something Matt took note of as he pulls you back against his body, his hand snaking down, fingers brushing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

“There you are,” he whispers, the featherlight touch almost unbearable as he slowly drags his fingers up until they brush past your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You bite back a moan, breath hitching in your throat as you do, all cockiness from a mere moment ago forgotten. Though you could easily crawl on top and take what you wanted that way, all you wanted in this moment was Matt. His fingers, his cock inside you: all of him, everywhere.

You don’t say any of it, instead a soft please is whispered and he knows, he understands, unclasping your bra and pulling your panties down before pulling you into his lap, positioning himself and letting you take the lead as you slowly sink down onto him, working your way through the stretch. You can see him biting back a moan, screwing his eyes shut: he didn’t want to make you feel like you had to hurry, not after the incident during your first time together. The pair of you had underestimated the situation and tears had sprung to your eyes when you were too eager, the worry in his voice still ringing through at times when he thought he had made the same mistake.

He hisses lowly as you slide home, giving you both a second to adjust, his hands steading you at your waist.

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to last long,” he confesses as you slowly start grinding down onto him. “Wasn’t kidding about the pants.”

His hand makes it way down, sending you jolting as he brushes against your clit, easing into a steady rhythm that leaves you gasping as you continue your own rhythm.

“Feel so good, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses running across your neck and shoulders, his words only adding fuel to the fire. “You’re doing so well, taking me so well, darling,” he continues, using every pet name available in the book.

It works: it drives you insane, making you grind down harder as you chase after your release that is so close you could taste it, but just out of reach.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for it, clawing helplessly at his shoulders. “Need you, Matt, I’m so close. Please.”

“Shit,” he hisses, your words sending him bucking up into you, hitting deeper than before, his fingers stuttering as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. You knew it was taking every grain of willpower for him to not come on the spot, but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he apologises through gritted teeth, picking up with renewed enthusiasm, his mouth hot on your neck. “Fuck, baby—”

It was the raw tone of his voice that sent you over the edge, arching back as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, barely aware that Matt was right after you, keeping you upright on his lap.

“You’re stunning,” he grinned, looking up at you with a devastating smile as you caught your breath.

You laugh silently, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face with a grin that matches his.

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

You slide off him, feeling a little empty but satisfied as you lean over to kiss him.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. “For everything you do.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he says, rolling off the bed and padding towards the bathroom.

You hesitate for a second, curiosity blooming in your chest as you recall earlier, getting up after him.

“Matt?”

“Hm?” he asks, wetting a washcloth and handing it over to you.

“Why is there a picture of me on your fridge?”

“Ah. Yeah. About that. Didn’t think it would make you cry,” he confessed. “I figured it’d be nice, to have something that represented you in here. For when you’re not yourself,” he shrugs, as if that would somehow clarify the situation, cleaning himself before tossing the condom into the trash and stepping into a pair of grey jogging pants, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You follow his example and make your way into his living room as you pull one of his discarded hoodies over your head, frowning a little as you watch him rummage through a drawer.

“Matt.”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Matt, you cannot see the picture.”

He paused, snorting softly. “I’m aware.”

“Then why?” you ask, feeling a little exasperated. “I could just leave a shirt here, or even some perfume. Something that you know, is actually for your benefit.”

He considers it briefly, a heavy frown present on his face as he searches for the right answer.

“I… it’s not for me,” he eventually slowly says. “I know of your presence here. I can smell the remnants of your perfume, even when you’re gone. But nothing tells other people that visit here those things, because there wasn’t any visual aid to help voice that. I want people to know that you are in my life, and you’re important. I want to show someone what you look like when they ask. That I’m proud of you.”

You bite your lip, looking at your boyfriend who was standing in his living room, the perfect image of comfort in his grey sweats, giving you the recognition you were absolutely starved for as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I love you, and I’m so proud of you,” he emphasises, as if he can sense how much you need to hear those words. “No conditions.”

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, unable to fully express the way those words fill the cracks in your heart.

He smiles softly.

“Any time, sweetheart. Any time. Now, Thai or pizza?” he asks, holding up a set of flyers from local takeout spots.

“Thai,” you scoff as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve seen enough red sauce for the day.”

“Right. Yeah. Nearly forgot about that.”

“Liar,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the kitchen with a squint. “I can see a spot I missed from here; I know you can smell it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad!” he exclaims, hands in the air in self-defence. “I figured I’d clean it when you weren’t looking.”

You snort, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you pass him on your way to the kitchen. “Thank you for your attempt at sparing my feelings. I clean, you order and set the table. Deal?”

“Deal.”  

[heartofwritiing]

Too far

paring: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: you let a very frustrated matt take it all out on you but what happens when he takes things a little too far.

a/n: this just a little something I came up with the other night I was feeling emotional and I'm in such a matt mood recently! (PROBABLY BECAUSE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR HIM IN SHE-HULK FOR TWO WEEKS NOW. AND I NEED HIM BACK ASAP) I couldn’t choose between another gif and the one below but omg why is he always so sad omfg I want to give this man a hug so bad… hope you guys enjoy this! I just realized this might as well be that other eddie munson fic I wrote but oh well lol.

warning(s): smut 18+ minors dni, dom!matt, sub!reader, kinda dark themes, rough sex, emotional, crying, hurt-comfort, unedited. please please do not read if this stuff is too triggering for you.

(sad puppy boy 😞)

Matt came stumbling through his apartment window around 5am after a night of Daredevil work. You were sound asleep in his bed with your knees pressed together wearing nothing but one of his tees, your hair damp from the shower you took an hour and a half ago, Matt could smell your faint shampoo before he entered the small room.

You bolted up from your light sleep to the sound of the window closing, your hand flew to your heart after you jumped from the sudden noise. Matt spoke an apology under his breath through the dim room as he tugged his mask off, tossing it to the side somewhere and taking off the rest of his suit. You threw the covers aside and frowned noticing the stiffness and tension surrounding his body as you watched him.

“Matt?” you asked cautiously.

He doesn’t answer you right away, his gloves come off and he places them on the bed beside him. “go back to sleep sweetheart,”

You reach over to the bedside lamp turning it on you can make out faintly that Matt’s face is all bruised and cut. you guessed it must’ve been a rough night. It always was.

“Matt, oh my god what happened?” you question.

No doubt you always worried about him when he went out as the devil of hell’s kitchen, helping the helpless and vulnerable people out there who needed it. but with everything that he’s told you about his nightly escapades, a mugger was the least of his worries so this couldn’t have been one that left his face bloody. Matt was too quick to let a low life to even touch him. You remember he had told you about Wilson Fisk and his Russian goons, and how brutal they were but he never went into full detail but you knew they were bad news.

“I’m fine sweetheart,” he reassured.

You weren't convinced for some reason, he sounded irritated and tired. He sat down at the edge of the bed and took off his boots placing them at the end of the bed. You slowly moved to him and sat by his side playing with the hem of his shirt that almost made it to your knees. He senses you close to him so he smiles tightly at the floor. He knows you want to make him feel better but he was just so full of so much adrenaline.

He constantly got this way after patrols and you would always be there for him in any way he needed.

-

"oh fuck, Matt," you gasp as Matt was roughly pounding into you over and over. Your fists dig into the sheets gripping so tightly your knuckles turn white. Matt hovers above you with his eyes trained on your forehead but they are clouded with lust as he listens to your breathy moans. He can feel how hot your skin is radiating off your body, and he can smell the slick building and building between where you were connected.

He feels around for your hands and interlaces your fingers together to push you further into the bed, his hips snap hard into yours as he leans over you further to deepen his angle so he can hit your g spot. You gasp and choke on a moan as you feel the tip of his cock hit your sensitive spot over and over.

He can feel you getting close by the way you grip around him and it makes his motions falter for a beat.

"You getting close sweetheart?" he asks breathily.

You can't do anything but nod your head and whine as you feel yourself let go and the coil snaps in your belly. Matt doesn't stop and you gasp as he gets harder and rougher.

"Fuck, baby I'm so close," he groans into your neck.

His hands press into you harder to the point where you couldn't feel your hands, you didn't mind pain during sex with matt every now and again but, this was hurting you. You squirmed under Matt and tried to pry your arms but he wouldn't budge.

"Ow," you mumbled. "Matt,"

Matt just moaned into your neck and attached his lips to your skin, he probably thought you were just fine and just enjoying the roughness..

You tried to squirm again but nothing he bit down on your skin a little too hard then and tears sprang into your eyes.

"Matt, stop you're hurting me,"

Matt broke off you instantly and sat back, his breath shakey and uneven as he stared off as you sat up.

"Y/N I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened," Matt says.

You brought your knees up to your sheet-covered body and a tear slipped down your cheek. You weren't scared of him just startled, he knew if he wasn't careful he could make this worse. He has never done this before and for a tiny moment, it did scare you. Something had to of happened tonight to make him act this unhinged. He never told you what goes on when he’s daredevil, but you had a pretty good idea that the things he’s seen and done weren’t always good.

Matt reaches his hand to touch your foot and you move it away from his reach, you didn’t want him touching you just yet. You watch his face shift into distress. He knows you're crying, he can taste the salt in the air from the tears. He hates himself right now.

"Honey?" he reaches for you with a slight plea on his lips and you cave, you didn’t want to avoid him, but he hurt you. You needed a moment.

You slowly uncoiled from the pillows and moved toward him feeling pity fill your heart as you watched Matt break down with his arms wrapping around his body. You pull him to your chest and let him cry. You feel his tears make your naked skin damp as he mumbles apologies over and over. You rub your hands up and down his back soothingly, his sobs moving with your fingers.

"It's okay," you murmur, sniffling as you pull him closer to you. You both needed each other in the moment, you were one another anchor in dark moments and you both just wanted to overcome this. His fingers glide over your arms and feel him physically relax against you as his cries die down.

"I'm sorry,"

"It's okay,"

"It's not, honey I hurt you."

A beat passes between you, and you inhale to hold back a tear.

"I never wanted to hurt you, ever," he says. "So don't say it's fine."

You knew something was on his mind, you could tell it was consuming its way through his brain when he came in the window. You thought him having control over you would make him feel better, but you knew now it wasn't right. You didn't blame him or hate him for this. You knew he was going to do something self-destructive and not accept forgiveness, you knew him too well. It was your job to make sure he knew that this was just an accident. And that you loved him.

For the rest of the night, you held each other in silence. Tomorrow you would ask him, Tomorrow you would know what happened that suddenly made him get so harsh and insensitive for a moment. You didn't want to think of it that way, you couldn't. Matt had been broken for a while, but when you came into his life it all had changed. You made him happy, better, you made him believe he could be the man he wanted to be. He wasn't sure if after this you'd want to be here, or even look at him again. Matt felt so ashamed for what he had done it was tearing him up inside. He had to find some way to make it up to you, as much as he could.

-

a/n: I felt it would be fun to leave things unresolved but you can imagine it goes in any direction. :)

tagging:  @redheadspark @a-lumos-in-the-nox @skywalkersapologist @wacky-nerdchick @countlessimagines @nicolewithanee @starfirette @pandalandalopalis @michel-9 @creedtheconquer @user-jongdae @steve-harringtons-slut @charlie-heatons-whxre

[shiorimakibawrites]

Fantasy (Part 9 of Alley Cat)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3108

Summary:  Reader is feeling anxious about upcoming discussion with Daredevil and needs to relax.

Warnings: MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Masturbation. Vaginal Fingering. Fantasies about oral sex (female receiving and male receiving), penis in vagina sex, and implied unprotected sex. Reader being anxious.

Can also be read here. The Masterlist for this series can be found here

Author’s Note: While trying to write the conversation between Reader and Matt, the muses informed me that was another chapter before that one could happen. A chapter involving smut. I have never written smut. I've read it. Never written it. Until now. Hopefully it isn't terrible. I now have increased respect for writers of smut. It is (hee) hard.

Fantasy

by Shiori_Makiba

You were waiting for Daredevil (who was probably Matt Murdock) to show up. At least you thought he would be visiting you tonight. There was no way to know for sure. It wasn't like you had set up a meeting with him. You just assumed that he would want to have a discussion with anyone who had discovered who he was under the mask.

Assuming you hadn't completely misinterpreting everything. You were pretty sure that you hadn't. He hadn't been subtle with his hints. At all. The only way he could have less subtle was if he had walked in and said 'I am Daredevil.'

You were ninety-nine percent certain that Daredevil and Matt Murdock were the same person but that little sliver of doubt was enough for anxiety to latch onto and make you start second-guessing yourself.

There were reasonable explanations for every hint or clue that didn't involve Murdock being Daredevil. Yes, all of them together stretched plausibility but sometimes improbable things happened. Ten years ago, if you had been asked if it was possible for a World War II soldier, a billionaire, a monster, an archer, and a lady assassin to stop an alien invasion, you would have said it was not. And yet, that is exactly what happened.

The biggest thing that was making your brain run in circles was simply that it was a very serious accusation to make. An accusation for which you had absolutely no proof. Your case was built entirely on guesswork, assumptions, and personal opinion. Any defense attorney worth their salt would able to shred it to pieces with ease.

If you were wrong, the best case scenario was that Daredevil and Murdock would find your crazy theory that they were same person to be funny. You'd be embarrassed but everyone would have a good laugh and move on. Worst case scenario? Daredevil would be offended that you would accuse his blind friend of breaking the law and violating his oaths as an attorney. He ends your friendship and you never see him again outside of the news. And you would need a new legal team because such accusations would be completely justified grounds for them to sever the attorney-client relationship with you.

You tried to distract yourself from such anxiety-fueled thoughts.

You started with Houdini. Who deserved some extra attention anyway. He gladly accepted a session with the fishing pole toy. It was always fun watching him chasing after, jumping at, and pouncing on the dancing ribbons. When he started to tire, you put the toy down and gave him some treats.

Feeling more relaxed, you made yourself comfortable on your couch and decided to continue reading your book. A fantasy romance novel that you had picked out because the swashbuckling hero in the cover art resembled Daredevil from his The Man In Black days. The plot was a little formulaic but you liked the characters and the sex scenes were steamy.

And honestly, it was far less embarrassing than the other novel you had recently purchased. A superhero romance whose half-demon hero the Red Devil was very obviously inspired by Daredevil. You hoped Daredevil never found out that you had read it. And it's two sequels. And pre-ordered the fourth and final book in the series. Because you had gotten invested in the story. And the sex scenes were really hot.

As soon as you started reading, Houdini made himself at home on your lap and started bumping your hand with his head. You took the hint and starting petting him with one hand while holding your book with the other. It didn't take long for him to start purring and then fall asleep.

You thought you had successfully headed off that anxiety spiral until the sun started to go down and that discussion with Daredevil became imminent. Soon you were too anxious to sit still and had to get off the couch. Houdini appreciated neither being woken up from his nap or being moved when he was comfortable. Which he informed you of. Loudly. Before curling up in the warm spot you had been laying in and going back to sleep.

You started pacing around the apartment and knew you were too keyed up. You needed to relax. Normally you would cook but the marinara in the slow cooker didn't need anything except to be turned to the keep warm setting. You already had enough homemade pasta in your freezer to feed several people. Which also had an ample supply of soups, sauces, and other make-ahead meals for the upcoming week. And then some. You always seemed to make too much food for one person. Granted your friends were usually happy to take your overflow. Especially Jo since she can't boil water without burning it.

Maybe that was for best. You were jittery enough that maybe handling a knife was a bad idea. Kneading bread dough was great stress relief but you were still working through the results of your last stress induced baking spree.

You needed something else. Maybe a shower? A shower sounded good. It had a lot of benefits. It would relax you. And ensure that you didn't stink when the man with the bloodhound nose showed up. Mind made up, you headed for your bedroom to grab some fresh clothes.

You were debating about what to wear – what was the appropriate attire for secret identity discussions – when your eyes landed on your copy of The Red Devil. Which was on the floor along with a couple of other books that had been in the bookcase. The cleared out space was suspiciously Houdini sized. You rolled your eyes. It seemed that you had found his new napping spot which rotated every couple of days and had included the places like the breadbox on the kitchen counter. And the molded shelf in the shower stall. His favorite seemed to be your underwear drawer. And like with the bookcase, he wasn't afraid to dump some of your panties on the floor in order to make room for himself.

You picked up the fallen books and stacked them in another spot in the bookcase. There was no point in putting them back in their shelf until Houdini got bored of napping there. He would just push them off the shelf again. Looking at the cover art of the Red Devil books with its titular hero in skin-tight red leather, you couldn't help thinking about your vigilante in red leather and Kevlar. You blushed a little remembering how many times you had re-imagined the sex scenes with Daredevil instead of Red Devil and yourself instead of the journalist heroine. The memory alone was enough get you a little worked up. Which only made you blush harder.

You shook your head and decided firmly that you were at least going to be comfortable during your potentially awkward conversation. Besides he already been exposed to your sleep wear. It wasn't going to horrify him now. So you grabbed a pair of thin sleep pants and an oversized tee shirt along with clean underwear and socks. Then headed for the bathroom.

After depositing your clothes on the counter, you reached into the shower stall and twisted the knob. With a loud hiss, the shower sputtered to life. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped out of your slacks, blouse, panties, bra, and socks. You tested the water but it needed another minute. Which left you with nothing to do but stand there naked in the rising steam and think.

Your mind tried to retread the same anxiety-filled spiral but you pushed away those thoughts. You were supposed to be relaxing. You needed to think of something else. Anything else.

The something else your brain finally settled on as you entered the shower stall and slide the door shut was sex. Specifically sex with Daredevil . . .

You flushed and tried think of something else. You needed to be able to look Daredevil in the eye tonight, possibly very soon if he decided to talk to you before his patrol, and that would be impossible to do if you had just been picturing him naked and getting off to it. The fact that Daredevil was probably Matt Murdock who was blind and (probably) wouldn't know that you were avoiding his eyes was irrelevant.

But your brain had decided on what it wanted to latch onto next. And that thing was imagining Daredevil naked.

His Daredevil suit wasn't skin tight but it fitted his body close enough to give your imagination a good starting point. You pictured broad shoulders, solid pecs, and abs that you could bounce a quarter off that tapered into a trim waist before flaring out into the finest ass on the East Coast. Possibly the world. Thick thighs that would encourage your legs apart whether you were on your back or straddling his lap. Powerful arms that could easily hold you up against the wall or pin you down the bed. And, through it might be setting you up for disappointment later, a big dick, long and thick enough to make you feel the stretch when he entered you, that you would feel full when he was inside you.

Your cunt began to throb with need just at the thought of him being inside you. You leaned against the wall of the shower, hissing as the coolness of the tile touched your warm skin. Using your back to brace yourself against the wall, you spread your legs. You reached a hand and was unsurprised to feel that you were already wet. What surprised you was just how wet you already were. You gasped when your fingers grazed your clit and began to rub gentle circles.

You pictured a kiss. One that started out like the one of your cheek. Just the gentle press of those soft, pink lips against yours that soon deepens into something firmer, something hungrier. You imagined those hands, rough with calluses, roaming over your body. Followed by his lips, creating a trail of fire with alternating kisses and little nips down your neck to the tops of your breasts. The light scrap of his beard scuff causing the skin to sing with sensation that would leave you squirming against his body.

You started moaning his name as your fingers increased their pace on your clit, picturing those clever fingers teasing your nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. You would cry out when he latched onto one of the stiff peaks and sucked, arching your back to press more of your breast into his mouth.

You whined as your cunt clenched around nothing. You slide the fingers of your other hand along your soaked slit, coating your fingers in slick. You started panting as those fingers rubbed against your entrance and then began to dip inside. Soon you were pumping that finger in and out. It felt so good but not enough. You wanted more. You needed more. You quickly worked in a second finger. Which was better but you wished it was his fingers, thicker than yours, that were inside of you. But you made do and once you had a rhythm, your other hand resumed rubbing clit.

Soon the tension inside of you began to coil tighter and tighter . . . until it shattered as you came with a guttural moan. Legs trembling, you slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the shower. You felt more slick coating your thighs as your cunt clenched and twitched. You leaned your head back, closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

Well, you were definitely more relaxed now. And as much as you would like to sit there and enjoy your post-orgasm bliss, you needed to finish cleaning yourself before you ran out of hot water. You pushed yourself up onto still wobbly legs and reached for the soap . . .

*****************************************************************************************

Matt hadn't been trying to be a voyeur. Honestly. He had come to your apartment with the intention of speaking to you before starting his patrol. Otherwise he would be distracted and being distracted while fighting would lead to injuries. Which would annoy Claire who had been running off her feet caring not only for the civilians at her hospital who had been injured during Tuesday's attack but also the vigilantes who had responded. He made a mental note to talk to Danny about buying her a day at the spa or something. Didn't want her thinking that they didn't appreciate all of her hard work.

Furthermore, especially after his stunt at the office today, if he showed up at work tomorrow injured because he was distracted by a pretty girl, Foggy might actually kill him.

At first, his timing had seemed perfect. He had caught Houdini in the act of making his way down the fire escape. The cat made a spirited attempt to evade capture but ultimately failed. Not that he accepted his defeat quietly as Houdini immediately started monologuing at him. And squirming as soon as he started to scale the fire escape.

Which rather distracted Matt as he didn't want to accidentally drop your cat. A fall from this height could be lethal. Which would upset you greatly. He knew how much you loved your cat. Such an occurrence would also upset him as Matt had grown rather fond of Houdini.

The result was that he didn't notice the situation until he was standing on the platform by your bedroom window. But once he did, he immediately froze and didn't even notice Houdini taking advantage of his suddenly slack hold to slip out of his hands.

The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, stirring his cock to life. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply, his tongue from sweeping out to taste the air. He wished he was in the shower with you, his nose nuzzled against your neck. Filling his lungs with your pheromones and the sweet, sweet smell of your body getting wet for him.

Or even better, laying you down on the counter and burying his face in your cunt. He wanted to feel the muscles in your thighs twitch and tremble under his hands as he licked up your slit. To hear your panting moans as he lapped at and sucked on your clit. Or started fucking you with his tongue. He hoped you would pull his hair, gripped tightly in your hand, as he drew you closer and closer to release . . .

Then he heard something that only made his twitching cock harder. You started moaning his name. Daredevil at first but soon you were also panting out Matt. Confirmation that it was him you were fantasizing about while you touched yourself . . .

It took more willpower than was pretty to leave. And even more to stop listening to you get off. One day, he promised himself. One day, if you agreed to it, he would replicate this moment but this time, he would get to participate as something other than an accidental voyeur. One of a growing list of fantasies that he hoped you would be agreeable to fulfilling someday.

But not today. Regardless of the outcome of your discussion tonight, sex wasn't happening. He wasn't going to fuck you without taking you to dinner first. He had at least that much class.

His patrol was going to be delayed. He was even more distracted now then he was before. His erection was refusing to be willed away. His cock knew what it wanted. To be buried in your sweet cunt, to feel you gripping him tightly with each thrust until he spilled himself inside you. It would have to settle for his left hand.

Once back to his apartment, Matt wasted no time stripping off his suit and pushing down his boxers, hissing with relief at the cool air on his aching cock. Your apartment wasn't very far from his but it was long enough that the silk of his boxers rubbing on his erection was starting to make him oversensitive. That same sensitivity made him sit on his impatience and retrieve the lube. It didn't smell anywhere near as good as your slick but it would have to do.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he gripped the base of his cock and began to stroke the length. He tried to imagine that it was your hands wrapped around his cock but the sensation wasn't right. Your hands were smaller than his. Softer too. He vividly recalled the feel of your hand against his when he shook your hand after signing the retainer agreement as well as your cheek under his lips.

He was looking forward to discovering if the rest of your skin was just as soft. How your curves would feel under his hands. How your breathe would hitch when he cupped your breasts or grabbed a handful of your ass.

The pace of his hand increased as his mind flicked between all the things he wanted to do with you. He wanted you to sit on his face. Gripping your hips as you moved against his mouth, chasing your orgasm. Licking and sucking you afterward until you are squirming and whining from overstimulation.

His hips gave an involuntary jerk at the thought. Another fantasy rose to the surface.

You on your knees in front of him sucking his cock. He groaned at the thought of his cock engulfed in the tight, wet mouth of your mouth. Your tongue licking his length and discovering every sensitive spot, teasing him until he begged for more. Your lips closing over just the head and sucking. Your nails digging into his thighs, the little pain adding a sweet edge to the pleasure you brought. Would you moan as he fought not to start fucking your face? Would you let him come down your throat? Would you keep sucking and licking after his release until he also started whining from overstimulation?

That did it. He swore as he began to cum, coating his hand and abdomen in a sticky mess. He worked himself until it was too much. He needed to be spent before he came near you again with your arousal lingering in the air. Or he might given into temptation and take you on your kitchen table. Even after all that, his cock still gave an aborted twitch at the thought.

He cleaned up himself and was getting the suit back on when he heard the first signs of trouble. He growled. Looks like your conversation would have to wait until after he put the fear of the Devil in some people.

Ending Notes:

The first romance novel Reader mentions is basically Stardust if Tristan was Zorro / Dread Pirate Roberts.

The Red Devil ones are basically a original novel version of Falling For The Devil (Daredevil fic by BellaGiornata here on AO3 – go read it. Yes, I know it is at current point 79 installments long. Read it anyway).

The Devil books are quite popular. There might be a screen adaptation in the works. And I may have cast Charlie Cox as the lead in said screen adaptation.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Two Round Apples (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! This is a very horny fic. Not much thought or plot, but a lot of steamy thots. Enjoy :)

Summary: You try to do a good deed for your closest friend, but it backfires . . . and you accidentally see Matt naked. And his butt. It's awkward, but the thing about the both of you is that you both value fairness.

Warnings: Fluff, friendship, regular Nelson and Murdock shenaniganery, swearing, smut (oral - m! and f! receiving, fingering, p in v protected sex, dirty talk, Matt being a little cocky in bed)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 4,053

“And Matt’s at that client meeting, so he’s gonna swing back by his place before he comes in to grab some files he was working on last night,” Foggy says over the phone as you cross the street.

“Which files did he take to work on last night?” you ask, looking down at your watch.

“The Kenadie case, the Wayne file, and I think the Slavo, Riley, and Samuels case, too.”

“Wow, no rest for the wicked, huh?”

“You know our Matty Boy—he never takes a break. Ever.”

“Well, I should be in shortly,” you say, taking a left toward Matt’s building instead of a right toward the office. “A lot of foot traffic.”

“No taxi for you?”

“Gotta get my steps in, Fog. Besides, it’s a really nice day out. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya.”

Hanging up, you slide your phone in your pocket and open the door to the lobby of Matt’s apartment, moving up the stairs before you reach the top floor, sorting through your keys before you find your spare for his door. It’ll be a nice surprise that he doesn’t have to go back and get them. You mean, you were literally right here anyways—sure, it’d be an unnecessary extra mile for an employee, but not for his friend he’s known since undergrad that just so happens to work at his law firm. At this point, it’s just something you’d do for him.

“Let’s see,” you hum as you close the door, looking at the table in the small entryway to see if they’re there before you move into his living room to search the coffee table. As you look and straighten things out, you hear a rustling from his bedroom, your head snapping in the direction of the sound. To your surprise, you watch Matt shuffle out of his room, naked as the day he was born, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. You yelp in shock and surprise, dropping the files and turning around as you cover your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I didn’t know you—!” you start, desperately trying to backpedal and lessen the embarrassment you're feeling.

“You’re okay, really, I—,” he starts, sounding just as frazzled as you are.

“Foggy mentioned you had a meeting and left some files—!”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, but—.”

“I-I’m gonna go,” you say, covering your eyes as you turn back around to try and find your keys you dropped on the ground. As you search around for the keys, you catch a glance of Matt’s ass as he’s turned around, his hands reached around to his front to cover himself. You stop in your tracks, letting your eyes linger on his strong muscular thighs and his perfectly round asscheeks. The perfectly round asscheeks that you could bounce a quarter off of.

The perfectly round asscheeks of one of your best friends. 

Swallowing hard, you regain your focus and pick up your keys, standing straight and scurrying out of the living room and rushing out of his building. You navigate the sidewalks as fast as lightning and get to the office in record time, immediately sitting down at your desk and throwing yourself into the work at hand.

“I don’t understand how it’s possible, but you look white as a ghost and totally flushed at the same time,” Karen says after about fifteen minutes.

“Hm? I’m okay,” you lie, as you type at your computer.

“Do you need coffee or something? You just don’t seem like yourself.”

“Slept funny—bad.”

“I’ll get a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”

As Karen gets up, the door to the office swings open and Matt enters, his cheeks bright red as he avoids turning in your direction. Foggy starts to head out of his office to ask Matt a question, his mouth opening but quickly closing it when he catches Matt’s demeanor. 

“What’s up with him?” he asks, turning toward Karen with furrowed brows.

“Maybe the client meeting didn’t go as planned?” she suggests.

“Maybe,” he sighs. “Nothing coffee can’t fix. Karen, sit down. It’s my turn to be brewmaster.”

“I’ll go get some coffee,” Matt says, all too eagerly leaving his office. “We should all caffeinate, and I mean, we have all day to drink coffee brewed here. My treat.”

“I’ll come with,” Foggy says, falling in step with his partner. “We’ll grab some bagels, too. Maybe they’ll even have muffins.”

Your eyes follow them as they slip outside of the main lobby, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Karen turns around to you.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she breathes.

“Kare—,” you start.

“Don’t even try to lie to me. What happened?”

“I saw Matt naked.”

“What?”

“This morning on my way back from taking care of those filings, I went to Matt’s place to pick up some files Foggy said he had left, and I used my spare key because Matt was at a client meeting, but he apparently wasn’t, and he walked out of his bedroom buck-ass naked, and I saw him.”

“Oh my God. Front or back?”

“Both.”

“Oh my God.”

“I mean, the front was brief, but I still saw things, but he turned around and I saw a lot of back.”

“Oh my God,” she repeats.

“And I stared. A lot.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know! I didn’t mean to stare, but, I mean . . . Kare, you’ve seen his ass in slacks. In jeans. Sweats. You know what it’s like to see it bare? It’s even better. Like, so so much better. It’s so firm and round and . . . I broke our friendship.”

“What, no!”

“Kare, I saw him naked. All I’ve been able to think about since is how I saw him naked, and how good he looks naked. You saw how he scurried in this morning and how he quickly he left to go on a coffee run! He wasn’t even in the same space for me for a full minute before he found an excuse to bolt! I ruined things!”

“It’s just awkward. I can guarantee, at some point, all super close friends see one another naked for some reason or another.”

“You think Matt has seen Foggy naked?”

“(Y/N), listen! You’re overthinking this!” She places her hands on your shoulders. “This is just a weird hump that you both have to push through. Sooner or later, you’re both gonna move past it and it’ll be fine.”

“You better be right, Kare. You better be right.”

“Staying late?” Foggy sighs, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Mm,” you confirm. “I was telling Karen when I got back from filing those papers at the courthouse that I didn’t sleep great, and unfortunately the coffee you and Matt so kindly got didn’t give me the boost I hoped for. And I’ve been plugging along all day with my work because I haven’t been able to focus. I just want to get a little more done.”

“Well, don’t over do it—you’re the glue that holds this place together.”

“And you’re the wind beneath my wings, Nelson,” you tease.

“See ya, (Y/N). Have a good night.”

“You, too, Fog.”

“Hey—sweet dreams!”

You give him one final wave as he leaves the office. When the door clicks shut, you turn your head to look at Matt’s office door. You shouldn’t just leave the events of this morning hanging in the air. It was awkward all day, and if you can nip this in the bud, it’ll be better for the office and your friendship as a whole. You get up, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants before you walk over to Matt’s office. As you raise your hand to knock on the door, it swings open on the hinges and Matt starts to walk out, basically knocking you over.

“I’m so sorry,” you both start to say, his hands resting on the small of your back to keep you upright.

“Matt, listen,” you start. “About this morning—.”

“Please, let me go first,” he breathes.

“No, please,” you counter. “Please let me go first.” 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to interrupt you like that—.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything, I promise.” Matt dips his head slightly and flashes you a small smile to apologize for interrupting. “Foggy was covering for me—I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights.” He sucks in a little breath, making his chest stick out a bit and decreasing the space between your bodies. “I also don’t usually sleep naked.”

Your cheeks burn hot as your mind trails back to seeing him bare this morning, imagining how glorious he must look in his bed, the sheets crinkled and pushed so far down on his hips that just his privates are covered, how beautiful his exposed, muscular thigh must look as he lounges on the mattress. “I was just too tired for pajamas last night.”

“Do you also sleep fight? You looked like you had bruises and scars all over you. Not that I was looking. 

“Restless sleeper,” he smirks. You swear the space between your bodies disappears even more as his voice drops an octave lower; there’s no need for him to do that with you being the only two in the office, barely any space between the two of you, but it does so many things just right. “And you don’t need to be bashful that you looked. I didn’t mind at all.”

Is this man trying to give you a heart attack?

“I was thinking . . .” you start, your heart pounding out of your chest. “It’s only fair that you see mine since I saw yours.”

Matt’s tongue pokes out to wet hips perfectly pouty lips. “I’d have to touch you to see it, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

You both swallow heard, and as he starts to move in for a kiss, you dip your head and pull back slightly.

“Not here,” you breathe. “Let’s go back to your place.”

Matt gently closes the door to his apartment behind him as you gently walk through the space, bringing yourself to the same spot where you stood this morning. He folds up his cane and puts it with his glasses by the door before walking toward you slowly—not terribly slow, but not as his normal pace, either.

“You don’t need to,” he breathes in the little space between you two, his nose practically touching yours as his unfocused eyes move all over your face.

“I know,” you breathe. “But I meant what I said in the office. It’s only fair.”

Grabbing hold of his tie, you gently tug on it to pull him in closer to you, closing the space between your bodies and feeling is soft, pouty lips again yours. If air in your lungs was scarce before, it’s completely gone when your lips connect. His body melts into yours, one hand resting on your hip and the other resting on your ribcage. Matt is the first to pull back, only pulling his lips away enough to officially break the kiss as he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tut as you feel his fingers start to pull at the hem of your shirt. “You were already naked when I got here this morning. Give me a little room.”

Matt’s face looks completely blown with lust, but he slowly nods, moving his hands from your body. With a shaky breath, you pull off your shirt and drop it to your right before you undo the clasp and zipper on your pants, looping your fingers in the elastic of your underwear to get them both down in one fell swoop, fabric pooling at your ankles. Matt’s face flushes, and his tongue slips out between his lips as he gently flexes and wiggles his fingers as he keeps himself from touching your body for the time being. Your eyes start to look up and down the length of his body before you reach around your back and unclasp your bra, feeling it go limp before you push the straps down your arms and let it fall. As it falls down, you notice it hit against a growing erection in his pants that looks increasingly uncomfortable. 

“You can touch me whenever and wherever you want,” you breathe. 

“Mmm,” he hums, his lids hooded with desire. His fingers start to graze over the back of your hands before gently tracing up your arms, making goosebumps dance all over your skin. Once his fingertips hit your elbow, he tilts his wrists so his hands start to glide up and over your skin. As they reach your shoulders, Matt gently glides them up, his hand cradling your neck while his other hand tucks hair behind your ear. “Is this okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, your heart racing a million miles an hour.

His eyebrows gently lift up in delight and care as if he’s listening to your body tick and purr as he nods softly. “If you want me to stop, say the word.”

“Okay,” you breathe before adding with a little smirk, “You can keep going.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight as he smiles. His hands gently glide down from your face and neck, over your collarbone, and down over your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples, causing them to peak. 

“I might get a better image if I feel you some more,” he says, his voice low and gravely with what you can only describe as desire as his hands gently drag along your ribcage and around to your back.

You half-register the “yes” that tumbles from your lips, and you gasp in delight when you feel his lips on your neck, softly pressing kisses down the column of skin, over your breasts, above your pounding heart, and eventually around one of your pert nipples. He gently sucks at it with each kiss before moving to the other one and doing the same exact thing again.

“Matt,” you breathe, your hands slipping into his soft hair, your fingernails scratching at his scalp. He hums into your skin, moving off of your breast and spreading kisses all over your stomach before he is on his knees in front of you. As his embraces spread across your pelvic bone and grow closer to the dripping heat between your legs. Matt’s hands slide down your back further before they’re gently resting over the curve of your ass. You gasp, a small moan falling from your throat as you tilt your head back in delight as he starts to kiss and lick at your dripping pussy. “Oh m—. . . fuck, Matt.”

He just hums, continuing his work diligently and deliberately as you get pulled closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of your pleasure. As you approach, Matt pulls his lips from the apex between your legs, kissing down your thighs and legs before moving back up, carefully moving his kisses around to your back and kissing the skin he neglected. Matt kisses up your spine as he straightens his legs to stand, one of his hands staying at your hips and between your legs, carefully playing with you as his lips and other hand continue to explore your body. A tingle shoots down your spine as his lips press kisses into your shoulder, his fingers brushing your hair aside so he can kiss up your neck and behind your ear.

“How good of a look did you really get this morning?” he asks quietly, his voice dropping to an octave that goes right between your legs and would make you do absolutely anything he told you to do.

“I-I tried not to look,” you stutter.

“But you stared at my ass, though.”

“Yes,” you grin.

“Sounds like you could use a better look at the front. You know, all things being fair in this.”

“I’d hate to be unfair.” He chuckles deeply, kissing at the sweet spot behind your ear before moving around to your front. “I think your bedroom as better lighting, though. It’d mimic this morning. Again, all things being equal.”

“Like you said, sweetheart. I’d hate to be unfair.”

You turn into his touch, bringing your lips to his and kissing him deeply as his hands hold you flush against him. Your lips move back and forth, the desire and delight growing more and more that you almost forget your plan to move to his room. He sweeps you up, his strong hands wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you up before he begins to move across his apartment, his lips never leaving your skin. You moan into his mouth when you feel the cool, soft, silky-smoothness of his sheets on your back.

“You want to undress me, or should I do it?” he smirks.

“I’m happy to assist,” you grin, matching his expression. 

He laughs and nods, his fingers working to unbutton his shirt while you make quick work with his belt and pants, wrapping your hand around his sizable erection and pumping, making Matt groan at your touch.

“Lay back, angel,” he husks, pulling his shirt off. “Lay back and take it all in.” You let go and do as he asks, watching him as he steps out of his pants and boxers, pumping himself as he kneels on the bed. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

Matt leans down, supporting himself on one hand while he keeps pumping himself, his lips crashing into yours. You cup his face in your hand, doing what you can to intensify the kiss. Your other hand slips into the sweet spot of his back, right above the curve of his ass, his erection gliding right against the slick between your legs. You groan into the embrace as your privates touch in the most delicious of ways, the hand you have on his cheek sliding up to tug on his hair. Matt pulls his lips from yours and kisses your neck and clavicle, marking you up before moving back up to kiss you deeply and repeatedly before pulling back to reach over in his nightstand to grab a condom. Tearing open the foil package, you watch him roll it on his length, making sure the tip has room and it’s secure.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he breathes, one hand cradling the side of your face as he kisses your cheek and neck, the other sliding down your side.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Hang on, angel.” With another kiss, he reaches over and pulls down one of his extra pillows at the head of his bed. “Lift your hips for me.” You do as he asks, and he wiggles the pillow under your hips, kissing all the way up your stomach, between your breasts, and back on your lips. “Spread your legs, please.”

Tilting your knees to the side, you expose everything to him, gasping and leaning back into the pillow under your head while he strokes his cock up and down your slit.

“Matt,” you breathe, digging your nails into the soft flesh of his shoulders. “Matty, please.”

He kisses you again, saying so much with the embrace without saying a single word. He nose brushes against yours tenderly before rolling his hips forward and slowly pushing in. You cry out, nuzzling into him as he sinks in inch by inch, stretching you wide and filling you gloriously until he can’t push in any further.

“Tell me when I can move,” Matt kisses into your chest.

“Move,” you beg almost immediately. “Matt, please, move.”

He chuckles softly and smiles, nodding and giving you a kiss as he starts to drag his hips back before starting to push back in. The pace is steady and comfortable, but with each push and pull, you just about lose your mind at the sensation thanks to the pillow under your hips, unable to prevent the moans and whimpers that fall from your mouth. Matt grabs one of your legs and lifts it higher, helping him hit deeper and making you cry out louder.

“Just like that, angel,” he grunts. “Fuck, (Y/N), you feel so good.”

“Matt!” you swallow. “Matt, harder!”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, just like that, please!”

His hips pick up the pace, making the bed squeak and filling his bedroom with the sounds of your slapping skin. Your head lolls back in pure bliss as your chest heaves as you pant in pleasure, blindly grabbing at Matt’s arms for a sense of stability. The moans that he pulls from your throat sound absolutely animalistic and feral as he repeatedly thrusts into you.

“Deeper, please!” you beg. “Matt, please!”

“I know, angel girl,” he grunts. “You feel so fucking nice, I want to make you feel all kinds of good, sweetheart.”

“Kiss me,” you swallow, finally managing to get a good grip on him to pull him down, his lips crashing into yours, his hips only faltering slightly. He moans into your mouth as he resumes his thrusts, his hands gripping your hips tightly in an effort to help in hit deeper. Pulling his lips from yours, he attaches them to your neck, right on your sensitive spot as he nips and sucks to mark you up as his. “Matty, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” he taunts. “This dick just too good for you? Can’t hold out for more?”

“Matt!”

“Tell me how good this dick is, angel.”

“Fuck, Matt! Your dick is so good! Best dick I’ve ever had!”

“Shit, (Y/N), you’re so good for me—your pussy is so tight, sweetheart. And it’s all for me.” He trusts deeply. “All.” Thrust. “For.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust.

His pelvis rubs against you just right with a deep thrust, and you cum around his dick with a body-trembling force, your voice reaching a pitch you didn’t know was possible. Matt’s mouth slots over yours, capturing your cries of pleasure in his mouth, using it as fuel for his own passion.

“Matt,” you whisper in his ear. “Pull out.”

“What?” he huffs in confusion as his hips slow. You muster enough energy to roll your bodies over so he’s flat on his back and you slide off of him. You whine at the emptiness, but you eagerly move over him and pull off his condom, replacing the latex with your mouth and hand. Matt moans out in pure ecstasy, the muscles in his strong thighs clenching in surprise as you play with him and eagerly bob your head.

“Angel, I’m gonna cum,” he breathes. “I’m gonna cum.”

You hum in delight at the thought of your mouth being the thing that pushes him over the edge, the thought of just how big his load is shooting right between your legs and making you want him even more. With a careful squeeze of your hand at his base with his balls, he bucks his hips up, shoving his cock all the way down your throat as he cums. You move your hands and spread them across his hips, working to keep all of Matt down your throat as you swallow his cum, one of his hands cradling the side of your face. When he’s finally done, you slowly slide off of him, gasping for breath when your lips finally release his cock with a soft popping noise. You go back down, wrapping your lips around his head to suck him dry and clean him off before you move your kisses up his body, up along his bellybutton and abs, his chest and clavicle, neck, and finally his lips.

“Mm,” you hum into the embrace, nuzzling your nose against his after you break the kiss.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he murmurs. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Everything was great.”

Matt smiles like an idiot, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again before rolling the two of you onto your sides, your legs tangling together. 

“I like that you value fairness so highly,” he chuckles softly, his pouty lips kissing under your jaw.

“I like that you were too tired for pajamas last night.”

This time you both laugh before your lips connect again.

“Maybe I’ll make it a habit when you’re around.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids. 

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.” 

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them. 

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen. 

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button. 

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit. 

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs. 

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms. 

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared. 

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.   

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot. 

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue. 

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip. 

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?” 

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more. 

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt. 

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you. 

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees. 

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north. 

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips. 

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge. 

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core. 

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head. 

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull. 

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?” 

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. 

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants. 

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk. 

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.” 

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high. 

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity. 

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.  

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his. 

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you. 

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick. 

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. 

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion. 

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise. 

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width. 

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge. 

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths. 

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.” 

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen. 

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be. 

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.” 

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?” 

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in. 

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you. 

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud. 

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again. 

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

The Devil Between Us

Chapter 7: Resurrection

Need to catch up? Read chapter 6 here.

Summary: Daredevil returns, but it isn't Matt Murdock.

Warnings: Murder, mayhem, impostor DD, explicit language, hospital stuff.

A/N: Thank you @acrossthesestars for being my beta and helping through my hiatus. Can I just say, it feels great to be back.

Matt noticed when you started coming to the church often, usually once or twice a week - three times if it had been a bad one. He sent Father Lathom to speak with you, to give you guidance, when all you needed, when all you wanted was him. He felt like a coward, unable to face you, but he knew. He knew you were better off thinking he was dead. 

Father Lathom approached the pew you sat in. “How are you holding up?” He asked, placing a comforting hand on your arm. 

You smiled weakly at the priest. “I know I need to stop coming. I need to stop thinking it would bring me closer to him.” You sniffled, tears falling. It wasn’t unusual for you to cry there. Lathom would tell you ‘There’s no time line for grief’ and that ‘you were always welcome’. But you knew it was time, time to walk away, time to move on. “I just needed to say goodbye.” 

Father Lathom hated knowing that Matt was right below the sanctuary, listening to this conversation. He could tell you, show you the way to the stairs, but that would only make matters worse. He didn’t want to undo all the effort you’ve put into moving on. “Our doors are always open for you. He would have been happy with you being here.” You heard the words, but they didn’t mean much to you, not anymore. Matt was dead, he couldn’t be happy. He couldn’t be anything anymore. 

You walked out the doors of the Cathedral, not bothering to look back. If you had, you would have seen Matt, who had run up the basement stairs, moving through the pews, ready to tell you he was alive. 

Wilson Fisk was out of prison, acting like he was a free man. 

Karen called you, asking you to meet her at the office. She had a way to take him down, again, and she wanted you there. You rushed there, not expecting to be met with a familiar red suit, the suit that haunted you. You ducked into your office, slamming the door as one of his billy clubs pierced the wood. 

“I know you’re in there, sweetheart.” The killer called to you through your office door. It wasn’t Matt. The voice was all wrong - too deep, too dark. “Why don't you come out, so we can play.” There was silence before the man kicked in the flimsy wood separating you from his grasp. You scurried under your desk, hoping he’d just go away. You hated this feeling, being trapped like an animal waiting for slaughter. 

“Who are you?” The imposter asked, before you heard an object hit the wall, clattering to the floor in front of you. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a scream. Then you heard it. You heard him. 

“I’m Daredevil.” You couldn’t miss the low, gravelly voice, the voice you hear in your dreams, the voice that haunts your nightmares. Matt. You wanted to call out to him, run to him, but chaos ensued, more objects were thrown, clamoring to the ground in loud clangs as you huddled in your hiding spot.

Then it was over, and FBI agents flooded the office, looking for survivors. Every person said the same thing: 

“It was Daredevil.”  

“He just kept killing.” 

“He was a monster.”

You knew though. You knew the person under those horns wasn’t Daredevil, wasn’t Matt Murdock. But he was there, you know that. You heard him. You knew you heard him…. Right?

You went back to Matt’s apartment, where you had been living since his disappearance. You were lucky his landlord didn’t ask any questions so long as you paid the rent on time. You settled onto his couch with a spread of files and a cold beer, wishing for something stronger.

It didn’t take long to make the connection between psycho Daredevil and Wilson Fisk. You called Karen immediately. 

“Fisk must have gotten to Potter. That’s the only way he could have gotten an exact replica of the suit,” you told her, looking for the file Matt kept on the criminal while she mumbled on the other side. When you found it, you shouted. “Yes! I have an address. I’m gonna go check this guy out. I’ll call you.” You hung up before she could protest, making your way out the door. 

You felt strange, like a voyeur, as you watched Melvin kiss a beautiful woman goodbye before he went back inside the building. You followed him, making sure your gun was loaded in your bag. “Melvin Potter?” Your voice rang out, spooking him. 

“You can’t be here. He will be angry if you mess up his plan. You can’t be here.” The man stammered in response, shaking his head. He walked toward you, reaching out to push you out the door. 

“Please, I just need to ask one question about DareDevil,” you said quickly and he froze, standing as still as a statue. “You made it, didn’t you? The identical suit to his?” You questioned. Potter reached for your arm, pulling you into his workshop. 

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep Betsy safe. I love her…have to keep her safe.” He explained his actions to you, and you understood them. Looking around, you saw the replica suit, still covered in the blood of your co-workers. You turned back to face Melvin, watched as he raised a pipe to hit you over the head. The metal crashed against your skull, knocking you out cold. The last thing you heard was “gotta protect Betsy.”

“You gotta wake up, baby.” Matt’s voice floated around in your head, fading in and out of focus. Groaning, you started to come to, vision still blurry, head aching. As your eyes cleared, you came face to face with The Man in the Black Mask. “Easy. Easy, sweetheart. You might have a concussion,” he said, and you were sure you were hallucinating. 

“You’re dead,” you gritted through your teeth, slowly reaching up to touch the wound on your head. Hissing in pain, you felt around the sensitive area. Matt reached out to brush your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. 

“I was, yeah. Then I heard your prayers at the church. You brought me back, sweetheart,” he professed and your heart skipped a beat. “Metaphorically speaking,” he added. 

You reached out, caressing his face with a shaky hand, mind numb with disbelief. You felt his stubble prickle the soft skin of your palm and ran your thumb over his plump lips, but still you couldn’t believe he was in front of you. “How– how are you alive?” You asked incredulously. 

There was a bang on the workshop door. “I’m sorry,” Matt apologized, “I will explain everything, but right now there are five- no, six FBI agents on the other side of that door wanting to arrest me for murder,” he told you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

He stepped away from you, but your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist. “Don’t,” you whispered, “Don’t leave me again.” Your voice was soft, but you knew he heard you as you faded back into unconsciousness. 

When you came to again, you were in the hospital with Karen sitting at your bedside. 

“Where is he?” you asked, moving to sit up. Your vision went blurry, and your friend rushed to your side. She used the buttons on the bed to maneuver it into a sitting position. 

Once you were comfortable, she responded. “Where’s who? You were found alone, locked in a cage with a serious head wound.”

“Matt! He was there. I saw him.” You could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe you. “I swear, Karen. He was there, and he told me he’d explain everything.” You were stammering, your words running together. 

She took your hand, trying to relax you. “It’s okay, just breathe. You’ve been through a lot.”

You started tugging at the wires and tubes, wanting them off you as soon as possible. “He was there, Karen. I’m not crazy. He was in the black mask.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself. 

She slowly started to hook the wires back onto you. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You stay here, let the doctors take care of you, and I’ll go look for Matt,” she offered, hoping you would accept it. You nodded slowly, your vision going blurry with the shake of your head. 

With a squeeze of your hand, Karen left on her mission. If anyone could find Matt, it was Karen Page. You closed your eyes, the pain finally getting to you. You pushed the button, a nurse coming into your room. You asked for medication, anything to take away the hurt. She came back with a doctor who injected something into your I.V. You could feel it taking over, pulling you into the depths of sleep.

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[undercoverpena]

been rewatching daredevil this week and just got to season two, episode one. I do not apologise for the thotery, because the news broadcaster saying “record temperatures as 100-degree weather hits it’s fifth consecutive day” has got me thinking…

matt murdock x f!reader • smut • 18+ • drabble

about how you’re lay in matt’s bed, naked, spread on top of the sticky sheets. the fan—the one you insisted he buy—flushes warm air around you, it creaking each time it meets a rotation. that you’re frustrated, both from the heat and the lack of him. crime rudely doubling in good weather and restless nights.

it’s on your tenth or eleventh rotation of your pillow, so you eventually fall asleep. so deep in fact, you don’t hear him come in.

don���t feel how his senses drink you in.

or how he peels off his suit and let’s it clump at his feet.

only becoming aware he’s there when he runs two fingers up and down your calve. a teasing touch, a statement. I’m home, sweetheart. his name falling from your lips in a mumble, surrounded by sleep and need. more so when his hand slides across the back of your knee, up the inside of your thigh.

tantalising close to where you want him, need him. slick growing as your mind begins to run away with itself—

and then it’s less a mumble and more of a whimper of his name.

his mouth on the back of your thigh, ghostly, but intentional. matt’s fingers sliding higher and higher, dragging them up and down between the tops of them until your fingers are clasping at the bed sheets. clammy palms smudging over clean bedding, occasional pebbling on your skin when he blows a breath.

teasing, taunting. his preferred style of foreplay (and torture).

you ask for more, almost plead. beginning to rock yourself back into his touch as he softly laughs against your skin. mouth kissing up your thigh, wrist nudging your legs apart—

an: so yeah. that’s what I’m thinking about

[chvoswxtch]

taste

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt just wants a taste.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

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

word count: 1.1k

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

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

On his knees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Matty…did…did you-“

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cellophaine]

matt wants to worship/praise reader (for whatever reason/no reason, i’ll leave it up to you!) & reader receives oral through faceriding

Commands

Pairings: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), praise talk.

Author's Note: It's almost American Thanksgiving, and Matt is an outstanding and model American citizen, so he must have a feast to celebrate 😌 Enjoyyyy!! Also, I have a fluffy Thanksgiving-related post coming this week!

GIF Credit: @netflixdefenders

An attentive and considerate lover. That was who Matt was. His enhanced sense came hand-in-hand with his altruism, always putting you first, listening to the smallest hints that your body gave. The experimental first few times took shape into something else, something that always left you breathless and satisfied. He learned your sensitive spots, your body's language speaking in excitement when you wanted him. His lovemaking was sculpted to satiate your heart's desires, and his respect for your boundaries ensured your comfort. He paid attention to it all. The spike in your pulse, the goosebumps on your skin, the slightest tremble of your body. He knew when to fuck you into the mattress, turning your mind into a hazy dream, and when to pull back, his gentle rocking made you feel like you were the most precious treasure. You loved how Matt listened to you, but you loved the way he talked to you even more. The resonance with a touch of raspiness in his voice could comfort you on the worst days, yet it could stir up an intense storm inside you, making your body flush with a pleasant fever. Matt knew that, and he used it to his advantage, just like how he was doing that at this moment.

"Take it from me."

You felt the strained trembling in your muscles as you held yourself up with your legs. Matt on his back and between your hovering thighs, his face buried in your cunt, lavishing you with attention and pleasure. Away was your wandering thought, eased by the blinding white-hot pleasure threatening to wash over the knot in your stomach. Matt panted hard, relishing in each grind of your cunt on his plump lips and eager tongue. You held onto his hair, gripping the soft strands hard enough to draw a groan from him.

"Just like that."

You whimpered; the breathlessness in his murmur drove you mad. The pit of your stomach twisted in a tangled knot as Matt used his tongue to spear your entrance, dipping into the sweet nectar from deep within your core. Your cunt clenched at the slightest hint of him, desperate for him to be deeper. You moved your hips, rubbing against his mouth harder, creating a mess between your thighs. You peered down at him to see his face with the same fate, glistening in your juice.

The high was so close, but you had grown tired. The cramp in your legs had gotten harder to ignore. You didn't know if you could keep going, considering how you have been wiped out from the last two orgasms Matt pulled from you. Your pace faltered, and your legs shook as they fought to hold up your body weight. Matt squeezed hard on your thighs, leaving fleeting imprints on your skin. He had caught onto your exhaustion, your mellowed pace, and his squeeze urged you to keep going.

"Soak my face, sweetheart."

He pulled you down into his mouth, leaving no distance for you to take for yourself. A shout for Matt was ripped from your throat, along with a blissed cry. The vigorous contact of his skilled tongue and lips on you was too much as he increased his force, eating you out with all he had. Alternating between sucking and licking your clit, Matt strung you high on the intense, never-ceasing tempo. His nose dug into the mound of your delicate area as his arms locked you in place. You had no other choice but to take what he gave you.

One hand braced on the headboard, one hand grasped in Matt's hair and tugged slightly; you signalled him to give you some room for movement. He let you go with enough space for your hips to swivel back and forth with a determination fueled by his encouraging words.

"Come on. I know you can do it."

The orgasm built and built until you couldn't hold onto it anymore and let go completely, feeling the tight knot unravelling in a familiar and gratifying rapture. You arched your back, tipping your cunt closer to his open mouth as Matt happily slurped up your release.

Your mind fell into that hazy state once more, absent of everything except for the intense aftermath. You were moved to your back, and warmth enveloped your tired body in a tight embrace.

"Good job, my sweet girl."

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