#matt murdock x female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madschiavelique · 4 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x vigilante!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : you’d met them, became their teammate, and the one night you got severely wounded, they took you to their place to patch you up.

⟢﹒ content warnings : i am not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge on how to take care of wounds like that properly so very inaccurate patching up session, mentions of blood, wounds, mentions of needle (to saw reader’s wound), afab!reader, stubborn reader, but stubborn frank, no use of y/n, not proofread

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

⟢﹒ note : this is the first part of a 2shot where the second part will be a smut with hunter/prey dynamic ! have a good read <;33

⟢ next part : here

The clouds were brown tonight, covering the inky blackness of the sky like a mass of cotton gathering up the streetlights of Hell's Kitchen. Everything seemed to be reflecting off a lake, the puddles of rain from earlier in the day having settled on every rooftop in the city in a myriad of mirrors.

It was quiet, abnormally quiet even. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly your typical idyllic holiday destination; on the contrary, it was the place to flee if you had the chance. Crime had its patch on every street corner, and not a single day or night went by without something happening.

But now, nothing. No problems. No calls for help. Just the calm of an evening.

Sitting on the edge of a roof, your legs dangling boredly in the air, you listened to your little radio set beside your thigh, hoping that one of the police stations would report a problem. But everything was peaceful.

It had already been a few months since you had taken on the attire of the night, taken on the role of vigilante in Hell's Kitchen, and every evening you found yourself chasing crime out of town like a broom sweeping dust out of the way.

It wasn't necessarily an easy rhythm. After an already long day at work, you usually tried to get some sleep before starting your patrol. You'd realised that although there was no particular time for crime, most of them started after midnight.

But it was already one o'clock in the morning and there was nothing to report. You wondered whether perhaps you were doing your job as a vigilante too well. If you did, this kind of evening was set to happen, because if you did eradicate every crime all at once, there wouldn't be any left for later. The bitter reassurance that, unfortunately, crime, born since the dawn of time, would only die with men, gripped your heart.

The pace of it all was sometimes exhausting, but the advantage of all this was that you weren't really working alone any more. At first, the idea of joining forces with anyone to bring justice to the world of night seemed complicated, for several reasons.

Firstly, coordination: having team-mates implied having a certain connection so that even without words being spoken, everything ran smoothly.

And secondly, attachment. An environment like this where every night can be your last if you don't keep a minimum of vigilance can prove destructive. It would be too painful to lose an ally, and even more so if it was your turn to leave and they found themselves grieving.

But colleagues - no, partners? Friends? Whatever, the allies you found on certain nights were probably the most resilient human beings you'd ever met, to the point where the very thought of them dying was impossible. After all, when you're working with two people who have both withstood a bullet to the head and who are sure of themselves, you can't help but feel safe - or very small and miserable in their presence.

You had met them on patrol when the sounds of banging and groans of pain could be heard in an alleyway. Immediately, you had split the sphere of your personally modified Bolas and had helped in the fight after observing the side you had to take. Recognising criminals had become like a sixth sense, but above all you had recognised Daredevil's outfit in the semi-darkness and the silhouette that appeared to be that of Frank Castle.

You were familiar with the work of both of them, had seen enough of their appearances in the newspapers and heard their actions on the radio enough to know that the two men fighting the dozen or so others below were none other than these two.

You had helped them, immobilising a man here, strangling a man of the thread of your bolas there, while the two acolytes were both taking part in the fight. It was only at the end of the latter that the barrage of questions began.

"Who are you?" was of course the first question Matt asked.

"Who do you work for?" was the first question Frank raised, naturally.

It didn't take too long for you to explain that crime was swarming around the city like cockroaches in a dirty carpet and that you wanted to clean up just like them.

Frank was suspicious, Matt was calm, and you were sweating buckets, dreading their every reaction. They weren't exactly idols to you, but you had great respect for them.

It was when Matt agreed that you were sincere and that there was nothing to fear about you that Frank relaxed a bit, without letting go of his grouchy and suspicious attitude. You'd assumed at first that Frank wouldn't appreciate such a radical change of routine that included bringing a new member into the evening vigilante group, but Matt had assured him that having one more person would allow them to be more effective.

And soon, you'd be meeting up from time to time in the evening if you were lucky enough to bump into each other.

First, you didn't reveal your identity immediately. There was a kind of silent agreement between the three of you on the subject. Of course, Frank's identity was no longer a mystery, but Matt's remained particularly anonymous for a long time.

Once enough trust had been established for Frank not to grumble at you at every given occasion, you were officially introduced.

You learned that Matthew Murdock was a blind lawyer with very heightened senses, and that Frank Castle lived with him, taking on a series of remote jobs under a different identity since his name was not really known in a very positive way.

You didn't see each other outside of work, often too busy with your own lives to find time to see each other, even if you didn't discuss your free time... at first anyway.

You had exchanged phone numbers, in case an emergency arose and you suddenly needed help. Your exchanges were very cordial, sending addresses or locations when help was needed or to investigate something suspicious.

The first much less professional encounter was on a more turbulent night than the others, when you were cut badly on the leg, flank and arm, with an additional cut to your lip from a punch.

According to Matt, your costume was similar to the one he wore when he first started as Daredevil. Dark clothes, something to hide your face and combat boots, needless to say that with just these to cover you up, you were extremely vulnerable.

When the fighting stopped, you didn't even have time to wince in pain that Matt was already beside you with a glove off and removing his helmet as Frank observed the situation.

"How bad is it?" Frank had asked, tilting his head to the side as the fabric covering your body darkened with blood.

"As bad as it looks to you and feels to me," Matt sighed as his fingertips brushed the skin of your side.

"It's all right," you assured them, moving slightly away from Matt and his touch, "really, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you can barely walk properly." Matt had asked, obviously knowing that no, everything wasn't all right.

Probably because he'd used that speech over and over again himself, that and the simple fact that your body looked like a cute little pinocchio with a nose extended to its ears.

"Yeah yeah, no big deal - argh!" you started before Frank put his hand on the gaping wound in your arm. “Hey!”

"No big deal, eh? If it was no big deal ya wouldn't be reacting like this."

"It's nothing, really."

You had no idea if you sounded convincing… well, from the look on both their faces, you weren’t. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, looking you up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You felt tiny under his gaze like that, barely lifting your eyes to look into his. There was a dark insistence in his stare, and you could tell he was frustrated, only whether it was about you or the situation in itself you weren't sure.

"What d’you say Red ?" he said after seconds that felt like minutes.

You turned to Matt, his gaze fixed as usual on a point in the void. But that didn't stop his eyes from being expressive, and the rest of his face reinforced them. You watched in the half-light the way his jaw muscles twitched in the lamplight and your heart fell in your stomach.

"Our flat is closer to here than hers," was what he ended up saying.

Your heart went right back up your chest as you blinked fast, frowning at the sentence he had so casually said.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, "how do you know I'm-" but you didn't finish your own sentence before starting the next, "you followed me all the way to my place?"

Matt put both hands on his hips with a sigh, biting his lower lip before finally answering.

"We had a bit of a scare the other night when you were cut on the shoulder. We just wanted to make sure... that you got home okay."

Your lips parted in surprise, shifting then from Matt to Frank, who was looking at his feet as if the ground was far more interesting than anything he had to say at the moment. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

In a way, you found it strange that they'd followed you home without telling you anything about it, but Matt with his keen senses would probably have known where you were sooner or later. Besides, it was well-intentioned, and the sudden thought that they cared about you - no, about your state - was surprisingly heart-warming.

"In any case," Matt continued, clearing his throat, "ours is a lot closer than yours, and in your current state, you could do with some treatment when you get there."

"I'm not planning to stay the night, am I?" you laughed nervously.

"Why not?" said Frank, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in one gesture.

From now on, victory would go to the one with the most convincing argument.

"Well, I've got work tomorrow," you began, already thinking about the pain you'd have to endure in the morning when you woke up.

You could still feel your warm blood clinging to your clothes, and the sensation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

"Say you're unwell, isn't far off the mark," Frank replied, pointing with a lazy wave of his hand at your body.

"But I don't have any clothes to spend the night in." You retorted, although the argument was easily contradicted by Matt's remark.

"We'll lend you some, it's no big deal," he assured you.

"I don't have a toothbrush," you retorted, as if that couldn't possibly be of any importance in this setting.

"We're not Cro-Magnons, we have backup ones," Matt laughed softly.

It was becoming a little more complicated to come up with relevant arguments. The blood loss was making you dizzy, weak, and preventing you from standing properly without grimacing every second while focusing all your attention on each cut and the intense burning sensation it gave you.

It wasn't so much that you didn't want to go, because on the contrary you found yourself enjoying their company more and more. It was simply the fact that...

"I'm afraid of imposing myself on you and bothering you." You said, looking away.

You were colleagues up to now, people who shared a common interest in justice, and you didn't mind their company. Only, you'd added to the mix completely unexpectedly. They'd already been working together before, even living together. You didn't know a great deal about their private lives and here you were, the millstone, getting hurt in the middle of a patrol and not being able to make a move without everything hurting.

You turned towards them again. The look on Frank's face was like the typical reaction of a human being who has just witnessed the greatest absurdity of all, while Matt's mouth was half-open in surprise. It almost seemed to you that saying that simple sentence had been a mistake.

"That's it, you're coming with us," Matt confirmed.

"Definitely," Frank affirmed as he approached you and placed one of his hands behind your back.

"Hey wait-" you had no say in the matter, though, as Frank's second hand came up behind your knees and lifted you off the ground.

Your hands barely grasped the back of his neck, wincing as you writhed in pain. You wouldn't have minded being carried. The fatigue of the evening weighed on each of your limbs as if they were full of lead.

You knew how to walk, one step in front of the other like most, and the suddenness of being lifted so easily into the air felt funny. You couldn't help fidgeting, caressing the hope of finding a position more comfortable than one that made you feel every inch of your skin open to the night air.

"Stop movin’ like a chicken ‘bouta have its throat cut," Frank grumbled as the two of them started walking.

"Put it on the ground and the chicken will calm down," you breathed through clenched teeth of discomfort.

"It's not a very long walk, I promise." Matt reassured you.

You huffed, clutching the collar of Frank's jacket to prevent yourself from squeezing the back of his neck too hard and getting another remark. You were torn between the uneasiness of the stir he made with every step, which you felt in every wound, and the new comfort you found in the embrace of his arms.

You felt so... safe that way. And not just with Frank, because you felt the same sense of tranquillity with Matt. They were both involved in your life in such an unusual way and they still managed to make you feel comfortable.

You'd never been so close to him, snuggled up against him and held in his strong arms. As close as you were to his body, you could smell him. A mix of cool and warm.

He carried the smoky but crisp scent of the night, the fresh but dark air, like the smell of a just-cut apple leaving its cool scent on the blade of the knife that has just sliced it. And all of this was strangely relieving.

Your eyes drifted to his neck, which was inevitable considering how close you were to it. Your gaze focused on his Adam's apple, ready to be covered by his perpetual stubble, letting your eyes slide up to his marked, strong jawline. You weren't in the habit of observing someone so closely, especially when that someone was handsome.

The journey across his face continued, passing from his full lips, to his nose bumped by the many blows he must have received in the face, to conclude this pleasant silent voyage with his eyes. Beneath a pair of stern eyebrows were two onyxes, shyly illuminated by the few street lamps on the deserted streets you were travelling through. You had seen them turn black like those of a shark that had smelled blood.

If you didn't know that look would never be meant for you, you'd be afraid of them.

You'd spent enough time with them in combat situations to know that their rage alone could bring a man down with a look. You hoped you'd never have to pay the price of it.

But this close, you didn't feel in danger, although the very idea that such dark eyes of vengeance and bitterness and death might pass over yours made you shudder.

“You’re staring, little one,” Frank remarked, his gaze never wavering from the path in front of him.

Too embarrassed by your own behaviour, you nestled your head on his shoulder, resting your forehead on it as your neck and cheeks heated up. You felt a little foolish as you felt your heart beating frantically between your ribs, and the very idea that Matt could undoubtedly hear it made you want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and disappear.

When were you going to get to that bloody flat where you would - hopefully - never again have to be so close to one of them without your thoughts getting carried away ?

Your wishes were granted, as you soon found yourselves standing in front of a door that Matt habitually opened, letting Frank go first as he pressed you closer to him to get through the doorway. With a single breath, his scent invaded you more and more until, for a few moments, your thoughts were focused on nothing but him.

The sudden closeness of him made you feel your cheek brush against the nape of his neck, cool in the night air, but enough for your own skin to heat up slightly.

Internally, you were slapping yourself in the face. Now was not the time to let yourself be bewitched by your colleagues, although the fact that you would be spending the night with them would intensify those thoughts.

Your reflections kept you prisoner enough that you didn't realise until you'd climbed the stairs that you were about to enter Matt's flat. No... their flat.

This reality dropped into your stomach like a heavy stone. They're together, so don't try or think anything that might disappoint you. Tonight... It's just business. It's just help they're giving you, that's all it is.

Perhaps it was a cruel lack of affection that made you repeat all this to yourself, but whatever the case, your inner monologue gradually died down as your attention was drawn to the inside of the place.

It was big, really big for a flat, and for a moment the idea of Matt and Frank being rich occurred to you. It wasn't until Frank moved further into the living room that your eyes fell almost painfully on the neon lighting that illuminated the whole room.

And the more you looked, the more the charm of the place intensified. Of course, the neon had to be a problem. And yes, the walls had faded wallpaper and cracked paint. And maybe the windows could have done with a bit of a wipe down.

But the cosy atmosphere the flat had was delightful. The warmth that greeted you as you entered was gentle and reassuring. You noticed that there was little smell in the flat, nothing too strong at least so far.

"On the sofa, she's already lost enough blood for the evening," Matt pointed out as he left for his kitchen.

Ah, right, Matt's senses, you almost forgot. The reason for the absence of perfume or overpowering scents in their flat was surely that it could prove abrasive on his olfactory sensitivity and generally on his senses.

Frank didn't hesitate for a moment, gently lowering you onto the leather sofa, which you felt sink under your back. The sudden change of position made you wince and whimper, the pain of your wounds hitherto camouflaged by your comfort in Frank's arms resurfacing to inflame your skin.

Frank watched you for a moment, frowning as he observed with serious eyes the dark stains that soaked through the various fabrics of your outfit. Without a word, he walked away, and a few seconds later Matt appeared in your field of vision, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"We're going to need you to take off your top and trousers, do you think you can do that?"

The heat rose to your cheek, making you realise that with those wounds on your body, it was inevitable that you would end up naked if they wanted to do anything to help fix you.

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip, keeping it prisoner for a moment and grunting as the gesture made you reopen your little wound.

"I'll try," you croaked, trying to unclench the hand that had been glued to your side until now.

The bleeding seemed to have eased, the blood slightly caking to your hand as you pulled it free with an exhaled whimper. The sudden contact of air on your skin felt like an icy slap, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm yourself.

Your head tumbling back on the comfortable leather, you tried to get your hands to the sides of your T-shirt, pulling at the fabric. The material rubbed against your gaping wound, and you gritted your teeth as you breathed heavily.

Matt swallowed, clenching his jaw before kneeling in front of you.

"I can help you, if you don't mind," he offered, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he began to remove your shoes.

Your reflex would usually have been to say no, your determination to achieve everything on your own without help from others blocking such opportunities. But the more you thought about it, the more the taste of resignation grew in your mouth.

At the rate you were going, getting undressed would take a considerable amount of time, time that Matt and Frank could probably have spent doing something more interesting than helping someone like you. So you gave in.

The blood from your split lip spilled back into your mouth, your tongue running over the cut and burning you. Wrinkling your nose in pain and breathing through your teeth, you nodded vigorously as you readjusted yourself on the sofa.

Matt sat up straight on his knees and faced you, his hands first feeling the leather of the sofa to find your thigh. He gently skimmed along the fabric, his hand brushing the wound on your thigh and making you grunt slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured softly. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," his confirmation letting his hand travel up to your waist.

His second joined in, avoiding the path of his twin again, and finding the sides of your top.

"Can you put your arms up for me?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, chewing the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath. Then you did the seemingly impossible by lifting your arms. Your shoulders felt like they were made of lead, and your whole body seemed to be made of nothing but aches and pains.

When the fabric and movement rubbed against the wound on your arm, which you had barely raised, your hand instinctively came to press against it, letting a small, contorted whimper escape from your lips.

Matt let out a sigh, but he didn't seem exasperated or annoyed, more concerned or sharing your pain. Just then Frank came back into the living room, a first aid kit in hand as he came up beside you.

"We're going to have to cut your shirt off," Matt warned.

You sighed, feeling deeply incapable. When did taking off a shirt become so complicated? Every cut on your body was starting to burn severely, and you felt like throwing yourself into a lake of ice water to soothe the pain.

Frank pulled the scissors out of the kit, sitting down next to you and letting the sofa sink beneath him.

"We'll get you a new one," he promised as the cold kiss of the scissor blades touched your skin for a moment near the wound on your arm, bringing a short-lived respite.

Frank tugged at the fabric to pull it away from your skin, then after a few scissor strokes tore the material of your t-shirt as if it were paper with a sharp tear.

The cold skin of his fingers, still covered in the cool of the outside air, came to rest on your skin, and it was as if night met day, as the moon touched the sun with its fingertips, illuminating each of its craters and cuts.

Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled your belt gently, unbuttoning your trouser button at the same time and pulling on the fly until his fingers brushed the birth of...

"Sorry about the whisky but we didn't have anything else," he said apologetically as he took hold of the edges of your trousers.

"Aren't you guys sponsored by first aid kits at this point?" you asked through clenched teeth.

Waiting for Frank to move the scissors away from your skin, you raised your pelvis so that Matt could slide your trousers down more easily.

"There hasn't been any disinfectant in any of them since last night," he explained with a small smile.

The scene was strangely intimate, Frank's hot breath spreading across the back of your neck as he cut off your shirt, and Matt's hands sliding your trousers down your thighs.

You couldn't help but let out a grunt as the fabric of your pant leg brushed against the wound on your thigh, though Matt was doing his best not to cause you any discomfort, whispering small apologies as he did so.

You then realised the context of all this, and the heat rose to your cheeks when Frank threw the last shred of your old T-shirt somewhere in the background: you were in your underwear in front of them.

For a moment, their fingers on your body felt much less professional. The passage of their digits over your skin left behind a trail of sparkling powder underneath.

Placing a towel under your thigh, Matt indicated to Frank the bottle of alcohol which he uncorked.

"This might sting a bit," Matt advised just before Frank started pouring the cool liquid over the wound on your arm.

You stifled a muffled gasp, your thighs trembling slightly from the heat of your wounds. Matt's face scrunched up, his hands resting on your thighs in the hope of easing your pain or distracting you from the excruciating sensation you were going through. As for Frank, he didn't seem to give a damn, his face filled with his constant annoyed neutrality.

You had wondered several times whether Frank hated you, or whether it was difficult for him to stand you. Whatever the case, he didn't seem to have you in his heart. Maybe it was mistrust, but whatever the reason, he seemed irascible towards you.

He continued to pour the contents of the bottle quite generously onto your side, your eyelids closing so tightly that you felt you were seeing stars. You gritted your teeth so hard that for a moment they cut off your hearing, then released the tension.

"It's almost done," Matt murmured in the hope of encouraging you.

Frank ended up cleaning your trembling thigh. You brought your hand, closed into a fist, up to your mouth, biting the skin of one of your fingers to channel the pain.

Your head jerked back, breathing heavily as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. The worst had undoubtedly just passed.

You heard them rummaging around in the kit, and as you straightened your head, you saw them pulling out needle and thread.

"No pain killers," you managed to say as your mouth felt almost pasty.

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

"Gotta get this done first, no painkillers for your princess ass now."

You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

"Silly me to assume you'd care." you mumbled, already feeling the discomfort from the alcohol on your gaping skin soften.

"It' all be over soon," Matt asserted, his thumb running over the skin of your thigh.

"And I who was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life,' you breathed.

Frank brought one of the armchairs closer to the sofa, needle in hand.

"Gon try and be gentle, softy." he added, the little nickname making you scoff.

"No, Frank, being gentle isn't your area of excellence. You shine mainly in murder and mutilation."

He raised his eyes to yours, still red and wet from your previous pain and reflecting the famous 'gentleness' he had shown in his actions. He frowned, but this gesture was unexpectedly accompanied by a smile mixing surprise and amusement, stretching his face in a way you'd never seen from him before.

He brought the needle up to your thigh, grasping the skin with his large hand as firmly as gently. He pierced it, making you wince at the sensation.

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he finally said, his concentration seemingly unwavering.

But the simple idea of saying this when this same man was stitching you up at the moment only enchanted you for a short moment. He had a needle in his hand that he could very well stick anywhere but in the wound that needed to be closed. And although it was an immensely small needle, you were well aware that anything can become a deadly weapon if you have the will to use it.

So you said nothing, letting that little irritation fade away as you let yourself be stitched up. The pain was bearable in the end, nothing too horrible. It was better than going home and cauterising the whole thing with your straightening iron.

Now that the pain was more bearable, your attention eventually drifted to something other than that feeling, and more to the rest. The feel of their fingers on your body brought a whole new sensory experience, causing a warm cloud to settle in your belly.

Matt straightened up, your thigh already missing the presence of his hand on it. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing your arm without injury.

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

"It's not the worst thing on the menu," you laughed nervously, immediately regretting your gesture as your smile stretched your lip and reopened it again.

He fumbled for the kit, taking a cotton ball and grabbing the bottle to soak it in.

"Here," he said, his hand coming to take your chin tenderly and turning it towards him.

He pressed the wet cotton to your wound, and you hissed as your nose wrinkled in pain.

"It might sting a bit when you drink," he murmured.

The proximity gripped your heart, Matt's face close enough to yours that you felt his breath hit your skin gently and evenly. You tried to calm your racing heart in your chest, swallowing as you let him finish disinfecting your lip.

You took the opportunity to watch him more closely, to see the way his stubble ran gracefully across his jaw, the way his brown eyes watching the empty space were full of softness, the way his lips, which you were used to seeing outside the mask, were full and pink.

He seemed incredibly gentle, and if you didn't spend some nights a week in his company fighting crime, you'd never have bet he was fighting like the devil himself: unleashed, full of rage, the taste of revenge and the desire for a better balance blinding him beyond measure.

"You'll take our bed," Matt said, Frank just finishing stitching up your thigh.

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

"Since I'm on the couch I might just stay on it," you laughed nervously as Frank moved to the wound on your waist.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you to the edge of the sofa, looking up at you:

"Sit straight and still," he says in a tone calm but firm enough to convince you that he wouldn't repeat that command twice.

You straighten up slightly, letting him come and stitch up the wound in your side.

"Of the three of us, you're clearly the one who needs comfort and rest the most, not us," Matt continued, placing the now useless cotton wool on the table.

"I can assure you that I've rarely been on a sofa as comfortable as this one," you added.

You'd invite yourself into their home unannounced, they'd take care of you, and on top of that they'd make you sleep in their bed while they slept elsewhere?

"Do we really have to drag you there?" asked Frank, tugging at the thread.

"And let me squirm and ruin all your previous efforts on my wounds?" you huffed as you looked into his eyes, a muscle near your eye twitching as Frank continued his work. "I'd ruin your sheets, that's really not necessary."

"Listen-" Matt started, but you stopped him.

"No," you assured him, turning to him, "and anyway I can already feel sleep stalking me."

Frank breathed in as he opened his lips to speak and contradict you again, but you stopped him.

"Really," you assured him, "I'll take the sofa."

Frank bit his cheek in irritation, obviously not so happy to know that someone in this town shared being so stubborn. He turned to Matt, who also didn't seem to be enjoying the situation any more than that.

"Alright, but there's no way I'm going to hear you complain as soon as you wake up, is that clear?" finished Frank as he tied the thread over the cut in your abdomen.

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

As Frank started your last cut, Matt got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass. He filled it with water, while you and Frank seemed to be engaged in a stare-down between two obstinate, stubborn people.

"Thanks Matty," you thanked sincerely, taking the two delicious items in your hand.

He seemed surprised by the nickname, a nervous chuckle forming a smile on his lips.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he replied as he left for their shared room and began the process of changing his costume.

You placed the tablet on your tongue, then brought the glass to your lips. As promised, it stung. A cloud of red diluted on the contact with your lips, and as you observed it you wondered how you would justify it to your boss.

You sighed, reminding yourself that you should email them first thing in the morning to let them know you were absent. All you had to do the next day was explain that you'd been attacked in the street for stealing your bag, but you'd managed to get away, and that in a state of shock you didn't feel like coming to work the next day. This would probably do.

Frank finished stitching you up fairly quickly, and when he cut the last thread he still looked at you with that annoyed look he never seemed to shake off.

"Thank you, Frankie" you thanked, using the nickname in a more playful tone than you had with Matt.

He let out a single sharp breath from his lungs before getting up and leaving in his turn for the bedroom, from which Matt emerged in much more... normal clothes.

It was the first time you'd seen him in civilian attire, in a simple hoodie and jogging bottoms. Your eyes went wide, your mouth half-open for a moment, and you had to blink several times to pull yourself together.

"Here," he said, placing the pile of clothes next to you on the sofa. "Do you think you can stand this time?"

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and everything else didn't burn as much as if hell itself had invited itself under your skin, you tried to stand up. You wanted to avoid any sudden movements, but eventually, with a bit of effort, you managed to straighten up and start pushing on your legs to get up.

Your knees trembled slightly from the stress and everything else that had gone with it during the night, and just as you thought you'd be sprawled out on the floor in the next few seconds, tasting the parquet floor, Matt grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

"Hey, take it easy little fawn, we don't need you damaging your nose on top of everything else," he laughed as he steadied you, letting your legs wobble a little more before you felt comfortable enough to stand.

Your whole body hurt like hell. And no wonder: in addition to your various cuts from the evening, your body was dotted with clouds of bruises that would make all the blueberries jealous of their colour.

"Let me help you," he finally smiled gently as he picked up the T-shirt from the pile.

He helped you into the top, taking care not to let the fabric come into contact with your freshly stitched skin.

"I'll need to borrow one of your shirts tomorrow when I leave," you said with a small smile, "mine's had a bit of a problem."

Matt laughed softly as he poked his head into your top. " May it rest in pieces."

You laughed softly at his little joke, slipping the rest on and feeling his hands roam over your covered skin, the size of the t-shirt far too big for you and reaching the top of your thighs.

Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of you, and you looked down at him as he rolled up the sweatpants so he could slip them around your ankle, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you could find some support.

The vision was heady, taking hold of your heart like an intoxicating scent you want to chase down so you can bury your whole face in it and never leave. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to let them get lost in its meanders, to let your nails graze his skull before tugging lightly on it...

But you pulled yourself together, the thought once again creating a warm cloud in your lower belly as he straightened up and pulled the fabric up your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as if you were a statue forbidden to be touched.

"You're gonna have to see that with Frank though," he said as he tied the two laces around your waist, "it's his shirt."

That's how the same smell you'd first smelled when you were in his arms came back to mind, but you remained stoic, preventing yourself from grabbing the collar of the shirt and bringing it up to your nose.

"Challenge of the year," you sighed, smiling though, "thank you. For all of this."

"That's normal, it would be a shame if our partner found herself unable to exercise," he reassured you.

The word sent a shiver up your spine and into your cheeks.

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

"Coming," he answered over his shoulder before turning away from you.

You sat back down on the sofa, tiredness beginning to weigh heavily on your eyelids. You lay down, the multiple events of the evening knocking you out more easily than any sleeping pill.

You had no trouble falling asleep, even with the neon lights on, even without a blanket, and even when the two of them came back into the room.

When you woke up, your back felt like it was sinking into a cloud. The surface you were lying on was soft, and when you turned on your side, your hand came to rest on a material that was not at all like the leather of the sofa: silk.

You propped yourself up gently on one elbow, observing the place you were in, and that's when you realised: they'd moved you into their bed while you were asleep.

"Bastards," you muttered, and bit your cheek to stop the little smile forming on your lips from breaking out.

A funny feeling sprang up in your heart, making it light and rosy. But that feeling quickly faded as you sat up straighter and your whole body ached. You felt like you'd just come out of a washing machine, all tossed and turned.

You stood up, trying to stretch but stopping immediately when the pain from your stitched-up cuts threatened to reopen. You didn't want to mess up their clothes, you'd probably never forgive yourself if that happened.

You came out of the bedroom and found Frank and Matt talking in the kitchen. Matt turned to you, sending you a smile.

"Good morning," he offered.

You were limping lightly, and bent slightly, walking slowly towards them through fatigue and pain.

"At last the groundhog graces us with her presence," Frank grumbled, turning to you.

"Am I rather not a sleeping beauty ?" you returned with a smile, "I wonder if sleeping beaty had a breakfast date when she woke up. I mean, look at me this is such a tempting offer," you said as your posture could easily have been a cross between an old lady and a pregnant woman, leaning on your hip, alternating between the curve of your back and the arch of it, making your whole body crack into a grimace of relief.

But surprisingly, they both smiled at your joke, and the awkward silence you might have expected or the abrupt change of subject to move on never came. But that didn't stop you from apologising on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I don't want my words to sound inappropriate, but I know that you two... well, you're..." together was the word you were looking for, but your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose.

Try again, you thought. You'll end up rowing champion if you keep paddling like that. But Matt immediately reassured you.

"There's nothing to worry about, and besides, on my side you have to be forgiving when you don't have the 'pause' button."

Right, you thought, even though the heat was rising to your cheeks and neck enough for your cool hand to come and rest on it, massaging it nervously.

"I find you singularly witty, Red," Frank said, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, there was nothing new under the sun about Frank. His sharp tone brought you back to solid ground in no time.

"How are the wounds?" he asked as he turned to you, his eyes lingering for a moment on the fact that you were wearing his shirt.

"Very well," you assured him as you lifted the sides of your shirt to show the one on your side and the one on your arm, turning back to him, "I think the blue really brings out my eyes, don't you?"

He smirked, and you couldn't quite work out whether it was genuine annoyance or amusement. It all seemed a bit too perfect, and that's when it hit you.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, looking for where they'd put your trousers where your phone was.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"My boss," you said, searching the hallway and finding your trousers there, "I didn't tell him-"

"We called him this morning," pointed out Frank.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

"We called him," Matt informed, "we told him that we were close to you and that after you were mugged last night in the street you decided to stay home for the day out of shock."

"You-"

"It's all sorted, you don't need to worry," Frank grunted, taking his drink in hand, surely in search for you to shut up and let him enjoy his morning cup of coffee.

You stood there like a houseplant in the middle of the living room, and Matt invited you to take a seat for breakfast. Bemused, you took a seat and the three of you ate and chatted for a while.

Matt mentioned taking you to see a guy he knew so that he could cover you up with something other than such a simplistic and obviously flimsy outfit that could put you in danger again.

And after breakfast, you left at the same time as Matt, who was leaving for work. You said your final goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Little did you know the proximity of last night would change many things.

⟢ next part : here

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farfromstrange · 2 months

Text

Matt Murdock || Masterlist

Find Me On AO3

⤹ NAVIGATION.

🫀 -> comfort for the aching hearts

🔥 -> Smut/explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DNI)

🌻 -> Fluff

💧 -> Angst

🪐 -> All fics set in the universe of my longest and ongoing work Foreigner's God

⤹ ONE SHOTS:

☽ Sleep [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ she can’t sleep and he’s there to make sure she’s alright.

☽ Costumer Service [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥🫀

✑ after a rough day at work, you lash out at your boyfriend. matt being matt, he makes it his mission to give you what you need to relax.

☽ Late Night Talking [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🌻🪐

✑ eliza has the weirdest questions on her mind in the middle of the night. three times she wakes up matt to answer her questions and the one time matt wakes her with an important question.

☽ Spiders [matt murdock x fem!reader] 🌻

✑ matt finds a spider in the house and he refuses to kill it so his girlfriend has to step up to do the job. she hates it as much as he does.

☽ Long-distance [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ Matt buys you a long-distance remote vibrator so he can play with you while he’s away – but there is a twist! He has one too, and he wants you to play with him while he plays with you. All over the phone, no touching. You can’t say no to that offer.

☽ Gifted Kid Burnout [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ she’s exhausted, burned out and he wants nothing more than to help her.

☽ Stay Quiet [matt Murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ porn without plot in which Matty fucks you in the office (and Foggy gets traumatized for life)

☽ For You [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ request: prompt 78 — loss of virginity (exactly what the prompt says it’s gonna be)

☽ Pointless [matt murdock x female!oc / matt x reader] 🌻 🪐

✑ song fic based on Pointless by Lewis Capaldi — a glimpse into how Matt views their relationship. (Part of the FG series, but no names are used)

☽ Ease The Pain [matt murdock x reader] 🔥🌻 🫀

✑ Matt helps to ease your period pains.

☽ Daddy Issues [matt murdock x reader] 💧🫀

✑ you flinch when Matt raises his voice for the first time and he learns about your daddy issues. Not the sexy kind.

☽ Angel On The Roof [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> TW: SUICIDE

✑ Mental illness is silent until it isn’t, but then it’s often too late. Or, Matt accompanies a troubled stranger home on a couple of occasions, not realizing what he’s truly feeling until she’s already lost the battle against her own mind.

☽ Angel On The Roof (Your Version) -> Request; TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM but with a happy ending!

✑ What if Matt’s word did manage to talk you off the edge and you find a way out of the dark hole that is depression? This is ‘Angel On The Roof’ from your POV with a happy ending.

☽ Useless [matt murdock x reader]

✑ Matt finds you during a depressive episode and he takes care of you. 💧🫀

☽ Promise Me [matt murdock x ofc] 🪐

✑ Foreigner’s God One-Shot — tender moments shared at night

☽ Good Boys Deserve To Be Taken Care Of [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

✑ Matt looks good in the mornings. He always looks good, but the object of your attraction lies a bit lower this time, and you want to worship him like he deserves. (Or, an ode to Matt’s beautiful ass and the attention it deserves.)

✑ Part 2 to this can now be read here.

☽ Are You Okay? [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ Sometimes it takes just one question or one person to make your shitty day less shitty.

☽ Back To December [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧 TW: DEATH

✑ Everything and everyone eventually slips through Matt Murdock’s fingers, and he doesn’t manage to save you in this one. (Hurt/ no comfort)

☽ Narcissist [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧🫀 TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE

✑ Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.

☽ Honest Mistake [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 🌻

✑ After a night at Josie's, Foggy spends the night. When Matt wakes up the next day to kiss you good morning, he soon realizes that it's not you who is lying next to him but rather Foggy himself.

☽ Tupperware [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ A conversation about kitchen supplies takes an unexpected turn…

☽ Matilda [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You tried moving on from your past, but some things still haunt you. Matt is there to comfort you and tell you that sometimes, it’s okay to just let it go, even if it’s your family.

☽ Brother [matt murdock x sister!reader] l -> Request 💧

✑ After an argument with Matt about something that seems so stupid now, you get kidnapped by a human trafficking ring and he has to save you, his sister, before something worse happens. He finds you battered and bruises, but at least you’re alive. (This is solely x sister!reader, nothing more)

☽ WORDLE [matt murdock x ofc] 🌻 🪐

✑ Eliza and Foggy play Wordle, and it soon turns into a very competitive game.

☽ Please, Be Okay [matt murdock x reader] 🫀💧

✑ When Matt doesn’t answer your texts or calls like he usually does, you start to expect the worst…

☽ You’re Losing Me [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> Request

✑ Based on “You’re Losing Me” by Taylor Swift. You and Matt have a fight and you throw him out of the bedroom with a decision to make. The question is just, is he going to give up on you and prompt you to leave or will you two manage to fix what’s broken?

☽ Feisty [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides he has to show you your place after you two have an argument.

☽ Sub Space [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻🔥 -> Request

✑ After particularly rough sex with Matt, you find yourself lost in sub space and he takes care of you.

☽ Slipping Through My Fingers [matt murdock x teen!vigilante!reader] 💧 -> Request (Not a ship fic!) TW: Death.

✑ You get caught by yours and Matt’s enemies and he can’t save you.

☽ Naughty Girl [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Messing around with Matt at work leads to an unwelcome interruption and your naughty side coming out, which Matt is not happy with…

☽ Cruel Revenge [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides to mess with you at work this time when Foggy and Karen come to visit… (kind of a part 2 to Naughty Girl)

☽ Sweeter Than Fiction [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You decide to learn Braille and buy a rather… unconventional book to put your knowledge to the test, and Matt gets suspicious about why a book gets more attention than he does (and gets you wet)

☽ Just Let Me Love You [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You're struggling with your body image. Matt comforts you.

☽ Focus [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt blindfolds you after you ask him to show you what it feels like to experience an orgasm blind.

☽ Is It Over Now? [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 💧

✑ inspired by “is it over now?” by Taylor Swift. Matt cheats on you and you deal with your thoughts. Slight Frank Castle x Reader and Elektra x Matt. (Warning: Matt slander. This is from the POV of someone who had their heart broken. Beware.)

☽ New Year’s Day [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 🌻

✑ Inspired by many Taylor Swift’s discography. You recount your relationship with Matt as he asks you an important question on New Year’s Eve.

☽ Sensory Deprivation [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You help Matt focus after the world gets just a little too much.

☽ Up Against The Wall [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ PWP. You and Matt do it against the window after you pissed him off. That's it.

☽ Unicorns Need Love Too [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌶️ (semi-spice)🌻

✑ You’re ovulating, and your hormones are not taking it easy on you. Matt is there to help. Kind of. He’s a little shit.

☽ S.M.S [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ Soft Morning Sex with Matt Murdock.

☽ Interview With The Vampire [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥🧛💧

✑ You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. (…) As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

⤹ ON-GOING SERIES:

☽ Foreigner’s God [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🪐 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ official tag is #foreigner’s god, if you want to search my profile! you should find all the chapters, previews, snippets, thoughts, etc. listed in chronological order.

☽ Total Eclipse Of The Heart [matt murdock x f!vampire!reader] 🔥🩸 ⇛ Part 1, 2, 3… ⇛ DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat) so you know what you’ll sign up for when you click the link. this shit filthy as hell. read at your own risk.

☽ Do No Harm [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ Doctor!Reader, slow-burn series

⤹ HEADCANONS:

☽ Going on vacation with Matt Murdock [matt Murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ what it would be like to go on vacation with our dear Matthew and his heightened senses (he really loves us in this one)

☽ Totally random Matt Murdock headcanons that keep me up at night [matt murdock x reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ some headcanons (6, to be exact) that keep me up at night

⤹ THOTS & BLURBS:

☽ Going to Fogwell’s with Matt… [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

☽ Switch!Matt thots [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ False God By Taylor Swift Thot [matt murdock x reader] 🔥

⤹ EVENTS:

☽ Kinktober 2023 (Matt's Version) [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration -> Introducing: The Vault 🔥 🌻 💧

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #reader insert #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff

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mattmurdocksscars · 9 months

Text

Snapped

Alright yall here it is! This is based off of this idea. So many of you wanted me to expand so I made a short fic of it. This is just under 2k words. Happy Sinful Sunday, my loves!

Warnings: Unprotected P in V, neck grabbing, rough sex, Matt's a little mean.

The grip Matthew Murdock had on his control was rock solid. It had to be when he believed he had the devil in him. He kept that side of him locked away in chains, only to be released on the unsuspecting scum of Hell's Kitchen.

And lately, you.

You were an anomaly to Matt. You had come into his life and accepted him completely, devil and all. You offered up your heart, soul, and body in return and Matt had never been happier. His life was finally looking up.

But that didn't mean he didn't still have bad days.

It had been a week from hell for Matt and it seemed like you weren't making things any easier. You seemed to tease him at every turn, knowing Matt was too busy to indulge in the sweet release you dangled in front of him.

Saturday night he finally had enough. He was getting ready for his nightly patrol, everything but his mask on when you walked out of the bedroom in nothing but one of his button down shirts. And if that wasn't enough, you took one look at him and crossed your arms, popping your hip out.

"Matt, are you seriously going out tonight?"

That ironclad control of his… snapped.

Prowling forward, he backed you up until your back hit the wall, his hand wrapping around your throat. He pressed his fingers under the hinge of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. He took a deep, low breath and rumbled quietly at the scent of you. No trace of fear, just arousal. He skimmed his nose up the side of your cheek before speaking into your ear.

"You are walking a very fine line, sweetheart. Be careful you don't overstep." He heard the uptick in your heartbeat and smirked. "Choose your next words very carefully."

"I'm just worried about you, Matt. You've had a long week and you promised me you'd take a break today and you haven't."

Matt instantly felt a little bad about snapping at you but your body language told him you honestly didn't mind. Then he remembered the ways you've been teasing him all week.

"A long week, huh? And you wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

You had the decency to look sheepish at his comment.

"I can't help it if you're just irresistible when you're riled up. Besides, I kept hoping you'd take the bait and take a break from everything. I've missed you this week." You admitted quietly.

"Oh, now you're being demure. You weren't so sweet when you were helping to rile me up."

"Matt, please…"

"Please what, sweetheart? Use your words." He cooed condescendingly. You narrowed your eyes at his tone.

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will tie you to the bed, put a vibrator in your pussy, and leave you there all night." He threatened making your heart lurch. You knew he meant every word and so you swallowed your pride and asked him for what you wanted.

"Please fuck me, Matt. I need it, I need you. I've missed you so much this week-" Matt's mouth descended onto yours, effectively shutting you up. He kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. One hand stayed around your throat while the other grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. Then, he pressed his entire body into yours, making you moan into his mouth.

"Keep your hands here." Matt commanded before letting go of your wrists in favor of trailing his hand down your body. You did as he said, keeping your hands above your head. Slowly, Matt kissed his way down your jaw and neck before dropping to his knees in front of you. He pushed up the shirt you were wearing to nuzzle at your stomach and nipped at your hip bone when he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

"Had plans, did you?" He asked. You bit your lip.

"Let's just say I was determined to get you to take a break." You admitted breathlessly. Matt hummed and kissed right above your clit, causing your breath to hitch.

"Mission accomplished, I suppose." He murmured. Before you could say anything else, Matt was pulling a leg over his shoulder and diving into your cunt. You moaned loudly as he licked a stripe up your cunt and it took everything in you to keep your hands in place.

"Good girl. Keep those hands up." Matt broke away long enough to say before diving back in. He worked you over quickly but before you could cum, he pulled away. You whined, your body lurching at the sudden loss of stimulation.

"Don't whine. I still remember the way you've teased me all week. The only way you're cumming tonight is on my cock and when I say so. Understand?" Matt tsked.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now go lay down on the bed and spread those legs for me. Keep the shirt on." You raised an eyebrow but did as he said. It took a minute before he followed you but when he entered the room, he was naked. His movements were still very much a prowl and as he made his way to the end of the bed, he towered over you. Slowly, he crawled over you, settling in between your legs.

He leaned down and kissed you languidly, like he had all the time in the world. You could feel his dick caught between the two of you, its length hard and leaking. He ground himself against you as he kissed you, and you whimpered into his mouth. You were unsure if you were allowed to touch him so you kept your hands to yourself, gripping the sheets in your fists.

"You can touch me, sweetheart." You sighed in relief and you brought your hands up, burying them into his hair. Matt shifted his hips and then he was grinding his dick against your pussy. You both moaned at the feeling and Matt quickly lined himself up and sunk in. You cried out at the sudden intrusion and Matt cursed at the way your walls seemed to clamp down on him.

"You okay, sweetheart? You feel so damn good." Matt panted. You whimpered and nodded.

"Please, fuck. Need you to move, baby." Matt groaned and obliged, moving his hips in a rough rhythm. He fucked you hard, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself up. With every snap of his hips, you seemed to move up the bed until you were practically crushed against the headboard. Matt kissed you through it, his lips scorching their way across your lips, jaw, and throat.

It didn't take long for you to approach your high, your previous ruined orgasm making it easy for Matt to wind you up again.

"Beg me for it, sweetheart. Beg me to make you cum." Matt slowed to a grind, giving you just enough to drive you higher but not enough to get you there. You couldn't help but to whine.

"Matt, please, please. I've been good for you, I've done as you asked. Please let me cum. Please." Matt smirked, the look almost feral, and slid his hand from your hip to thumb at your clit as he picked back up the pace.

"Come on, sweetheart, cum for me. Let me feel it." You cried out as you came, body locking up around Matt. He worked you through it, gritting his teeth to stave off his own orgasm.

"That's it, sweetheart, that's it. Doing so good for me." When you finally came down from your high, Matt pulled out of you and flipped you over. You yelped at the sudden change and Matt chuckled.

"Hope you didn't think I was done with you." Matt growled as he positioned you on your hands and knees. He smoothed a hand up your spine before burying his hand in your hair and pulling, forcing you to arch your back.

"Good girl…" Matt murmured before sinking back into your heat. He set another brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast. You took it willingly, moaning and writhing beneath him.

"Matt- God- fucking me so good. Missed you, missed this." You babble, mind gone due to the way Matt was fucking every thought out of you. Above you, Matt smirked and angled his hips so he hit your G spot with every thrust, effectively rendering you beyond words. You could do nothing but moan and whimper beneath him. Matt moaned above you, the feeling of you clenching around him almost too much.

"That's my good girl. Taking everything I give you. You're gonna make cum, baby. Are you gonna take it? Gonna let me fill you up?"

"Yes, Matt, yes! Fuck, please! Let me feel it." Never one to take without giving, Matt slipped one hand beneath you and began thumbing at your clit again. You screamed as it shoved you suddenly over the edge. Matt groaned and came as well, buried deep within you. He slid out of you, hissing at the oversensitivity, and laid down beside you. You both just lay there panting. You felt Matt shift and then his hand was grasping one of yours.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You asked, completely bewildered.

"For being so busy this week. I really have been neglecting you and that's-"

"Matt, be quiet. You have nothing to apologize for. You haven't been neglecting me. You're busy. I get that. There's gonna be times like this no matter what you do and I'm not going to leave you just because you have a lot going on." You told him, squeezing his hand and rolling to face him. Matt's eyes were wide and darting around, like he couldn't quite believe you really weren't going to leave him. So you tugged on his hand and pulled him in so he was laying with his head on your chest.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Murdock. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

At that, Matt couldn't help but chuckle. He positioned himself so his ear was right above your heart, listening to it pound away, proof you were alive and with him.

"I think I'd like that." He would have to get up eventually, would have to go out. But for now, cradled in your embrace, he hurt a little less and that was all that mattered to him.

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader

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blackshadowswriter · 1 year

Text

Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock

Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.

Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)

God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘

Words: 7,691

AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)

Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤

As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament.

It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes.

You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt.

Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together.

Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there.

Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name.

Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin.

Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip.

"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear.

"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement.

Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did.

You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know.

But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.

Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there.

But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.

For now.

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"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you.

At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath.

You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.

You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil.

"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe."

"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back."

You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?"

Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?"

That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body.

Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.

Nothing except Matt's duty to the city.

Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.

But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.

You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to."

"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew."

The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?"

You whimpered again.

"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?"

"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—"

"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?"

Fuck, not the praise.

Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please."

His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.

By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night.

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You tried.

Oh God, you truly tried.

You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen.

You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt.

You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down.

At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down.

And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that?

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In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you.

You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence.

But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts.

Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air.

"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear.

You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently.

He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there.

"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar.

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back.

"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke.

"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time.

Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did.

Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?"

You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk.

His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.

Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."

When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.

"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"

"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.

"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.

"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"

"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.

"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."

A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.

"I don't know," you breathed.

Your heart skipped. Lie.

Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."

"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"

"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."

"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"

"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"

He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.

"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"

Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.

"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.

"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.

"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.

You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"

"Yes."

"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."

"I didn't—"

"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."

"Y-you want me to pray."

"Yes."

"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."

A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"

"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.

Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"

For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."

What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.

"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.

You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"

You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.

Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.

"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"

He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.

But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."

Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.

"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."

"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"

Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"

You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."

"Good. Then continue."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?

"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"

Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.

"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.

Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.

"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."

A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.

You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."

And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.

That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.

Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.

His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.

But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."

Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."

"I—I don't—"

Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"

This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.

"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."

Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?

"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"

God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.

You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.

This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."

You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.

"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.

"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.

"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."

In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.

"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.

Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.

"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?

Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.

Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.

You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"

And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.

The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.

Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.

In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.

You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.

"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."

He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.

"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."

Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.

Did he just put you on the fucking altar?

You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."

Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."

"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."

He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"

You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."

His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.

Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.

But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.

Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.

"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."

You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.

Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.

Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.

"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."

That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.

You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.

Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"

You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."

"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"

"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."

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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷‍♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months

Text

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face.

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same.

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition.

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills.

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile.

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further.

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late.

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff.

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things.

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone.

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment.

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear.

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago.

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started.

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it.

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water.

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you.

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control.

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?”

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.”

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration.

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years.

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.”

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.”

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.”

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words.

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.”

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury.

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh.

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order.

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you.

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft.

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle.

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for.

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience.

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now.

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place.

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry.

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises.

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory.

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days.

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend.

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life.

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth.

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose.

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave.

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice.

This time was no different.

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone.

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours.

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food.

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door.

Here goes nothing.

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door.

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer.

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least.

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking.

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed.

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up.

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer.

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission.

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened.

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?”

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.”

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now.

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod.

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin.

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?”

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.”

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?”

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?”

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form.

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted.

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.”

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.”

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.”

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone.

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.”

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered.

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him.

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried.

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.”

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?”

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears.

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills.

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself.

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck.

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?”

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.”

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out.

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

220 notes · View notes

yarrystyleeza · 2 months

Text

The 1: You Would've Been The One (M.M)

Matt Murdock x female!reader

Religious settings (at the beginning), implied intimacy, misunderstandings, alleged cheating, things going south, sadness, break—up, exes but pining, no happy ending.

Summary: on an August rainy night, you walked by Josie's and the memories came rushing back in your head.

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: this idea popped in my head when I was recalling 'the 1' lyrics and I get the first and last scenes in my head and I almost cried. This will get a second part from Matt's perspective. Not very proofread but I'm trying to fix it :')

Drop after drop, the rain sweetly bounced off your shoulders as you strolled down the street. The rain makes the sound of sizzling rice from a distance. The ground is glistening, it smells earthy despite you're walking in New York. The city always looked beautiful when it was raining. It was calm, quiet, and cozy. You'd snuggle into one of the walls and they'd embrace you warmly.

Splashing the little water puddles forming on concrete with your steps, you kept walking on the sidewalk to prevent getting water in your boots.

Your hair is damp and your skin is flushed and wet. It's not fall yet, but you loved this time of the year.

Beams of light flared through the partially fogged glass, people's warm breaths created a tepid and pleasant atmosphere.

Your eyes peer inside for an unintended glance and you see him there, sitting at one of the tables with his two friends around him.

Your heart palpitates as if you were hit by a truck and thrown on the side of the road. Broken, bleeding, crying, dead.

Why did it have to end?

Two years ago. After attending the Mass on a Sunday morning, you went to a coffee shop nearby to meet one of your friends at noon.

You sat alone for a while and waited. You called your friend and she told you she had an emergency and couldn't call you. She apologized and you hung up. You ordered coffee and waited for your order.

The bell at the door rung and it caught your ears, you glanced up from your phone and you saw him walk in. You recognized him. He always attended Sunday service, you've often seen him sitting at the last couple pews, he'd always stay after the Mass. You'd watch him kneeling, hands gathered at his forehead in a praying fist.

You've seen him crying a couple of times and you wondered what a good—looking —in the sense of kindness because you've seen it—blind man would've done that would make him snivel and tremble the way he did.

You would've never expected what he cried about. Not in a million years.

He placed his order and you saw him walk in your direction. He took a seat in front of you. It was astounding. You cleared your throat. His head shot up and he himself was astonished to find out that someone was sitting on the other side of the table.

The eleven in the morning sunlight casted upon the side of his face as he sat by the window in front of you. The beams crept into the corners of his gentle face. His eyes sparkled behind the red blinds and you later learned that they were hazelish brown.

"I'm Matt." his voice still vivid in your ears as if he just said it. His voice was gravelly but sweet. Warm. It made your stomach churn with butterflies that you died to keep from rising once again.

You often thought if he did that on purpose, if he intended on sitting in front of you the way he did, if he knew you before you knew him.

It makes you smile. He chose you. Above all. At least for once.

The next Sunday, he stopped you as you paced between the pews on your way out. He asked if he could grab some coffee with you—after learning that you too attended the Sunday service.

You sat together and talked about almost everything. He kept flashing smiles at you and you kept falling deeper. You knew he was going to be the death of you. And how you wished to die in his hands.

Where did it go wrong?

The haunting memory of his lips marking your being, worshipping every inch of your existence. The words he never stopped telling you. The 'I love you's and the 'you're mine's. The sweet flirts and the tempting ones.

You were his death and his living, you were his vigor and his redemption, you were his eyes and his hands and his being, you were his everything.

Heart, head, body and soul. He loved all of you. He wanted all of you, the same way you did.

You accept—hell, you wanted both Matt Murdock and Daredevil, you wanted the lawyer and the vigilante, you embraced both his darkness and daylight, you were in for the deep and the high, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

If he died you'd die with him, and if he lived you'd live for him.

So why did it all go wrong?

A year of going back and forth, bickering and talking, stitching and love-making, dating and staying in, dinners and brunches, kisses and touches. You did it all. You've never been better.

But then he decided to make it even better.

Saturday night at Josie's. You sat with him and his friends to grab some drinks and bond. Foggy and Karen walked to the island to grab refills when he grabbed your hand, slowly, gently, sensationally and adeptly.

You turned to look at him, a little taken aback by the touch—a little taken off guard. He stood off his seat and knelt to the ground. Red blinds off and his face is so red and torn by a smile, tinted with a bit of uncertainty, of fear but of excitement about the unknown, too.

Maybe he was afraid you'd reject it, or maybe he rethought it and found it was too early. You never knew.

"Will you marry me?" you look at his free hand—but it wasn't that much of free. He had a ring between his digits and his thumb, placed so close to the finger that shoots straight to your heart.

You said yes.

He promised to love and cherish you, till death do you apart.

He never lied, though. Because one night, you died, and to you—he died, too, both of you died.

The night it all went wrong.

He told you he had a mission later that night, but when he returned—he didn't have his red suit on. He wore a tuxedo, instead. You imagined this was how he'd look on your wedding day.

He'd wait for you at the end of the aisle next to Father Lantom as your father escorts you to your spot, your white dress makes you look like an angel—no, you were an angel, that's what he always told you.

You'd look onto both sides, both families are present, all smiling and happy. Your mother is crying—but she's happy, too, she's always wanted to see you in white and this is your day.

You look back straight. Matt is grinning, his bowtie is a little crooked to the side but his hair was combed perfectly. Foggy and Karen are standing on each side along with your other friends—your bridemaids and groomsmen.

Both of you recite your vows perfectly, almost knowing them by heart. You're now a husband and a wife. Even death would never do you apart.

Until you saw the red lipstick print on the white collar of his dress shirt.

Both your brain and heart shattered, you almost heard glass breaking. Maybe it was the glass of water you had once carried in your hand when you walked out of the kitchen to meet him at the hallway.

That's when you really noticed the other details. His loosened bowtie. His wrinkled collar. And the reddened nail marks on the skin of his neck.

Your stomach sunk. The cold crept up your fingertips to fill your body. Your eyes remained fixed on him. Did he thought you wouldn't notice?

You were terrified to ask how he got to look like that. Not from him, Matt never scared you, he was always gentle and kind—but from the things he might have done to get to this point.

There was another woman.

The next events were a blur. Your ears were clogged, you were crying, you threw the ring in his face, you barely put any proper clothes on, you walked away and out of his life.

It was raining. Just like tonight.

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

You sob. The heavy dew showers you—hiding your tears, to console you, to let you know that you're not the only one crying tonight—the sky is crying, too.

You felt heavy. Head and heart, and clothes. It felt cold to think of it all.

You hug yourself tighter. You glance back for the last time. You walk yourself home.

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

taglist: @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @floral-charlie-cat @bellaxgiornata @1988-fiend @babygirlmurdock @c-mrdck @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bunmurdock @loveroftoomanyfandoms @everythingsf1ne23 @shiorimakibawrites @shouldbestudying41 @lazyxsquirrel @munsonownsmyass @mindidjarin @v4leoftears (feel free to ask for addition or removal 🤍)

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for reading! 💞💞💞

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Text

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.

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x reader smut

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chvoswxtch · 4 months

Note

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

hi my darling!

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

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

lemons.

“Not that one.”

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

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

“It’s not ripe enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel the rind.”

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

“It’s shiny.”

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

“What else?”

“It’s smooth.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Matthew!”

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

“Come on, we need flour.”

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

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 1 month

Text

Sweet on You, Chapter 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: HERE

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, Idiots to Lovers, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N, Fake dating (sort of)

Word Count: ~2500

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has liked and reblogged/commented thus far! Enjoy Matt and Reader's first official "not"-date!

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tag List (struck-through blogs could not be tagged): @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast @peachy-flxwr @sleepysleepymom @fishinsuits @milkbummm @lazyxsquirrel @beezusvreeland @caughtthefever @bohemianrhapsody86 @yarrystyleeza @indestructeible @pepperthebi-spy

Divider by the always amazing @theradioactivespidergwen!

You were quiet as you and Matt headed towards the restaurant he had chosen for dinner, your mind still processing the contract as you walked.

To be honest, you hadn't expected the terms of the agreement to be quite so fair and even, and you definitely hadn't expected the increase in the amount of money Matt would be giving you per month.

Just from the little bit of time you had spent with him you could tell that he was honest, fair, and kind, and you couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason Matt was paying you more was because you had told him about having joined S&S in order to help your mother with her medical bills, rather than his given reason of simply feeling that your time was worth more than the amount you had originally agreed upon due to what was being requested of you.

You mentally shook your head. No matter the reason, you were touched by Matt's fairness and generosity and were feeling better about having accepted his offer.

Matt slowed as the two of you approached Okinawa, a Japanese steakhouse where you sometimes picked up lunch for the partners. “We're here.”

He held the door open for you. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you.” You stepped inside.

“Good evening,” the seating hostess said.

“Hi,” Matt replied. “We have a reservation for 6 o’clock under ‘Murdock’.”

The hostess tapped at the tablet in front of her. “Yes, of course. Right this way.”

She led the two of you to a quiet table in the corner. “Here you go. Your server will be right with you.”

You took your coat off and draped it across the back of your chair, pleasantly surprised when Matt pulled your chair out for you. “Thank you.”

Matt took his own coat off and folded his cane, putting it in his jacket pocket before sitting across from you. “You're welcome.”

You cleared your throat. “So, how was your day today? Do any interesting lawyer stuff?"

Matt chuckled. “Depends on what you'd consider ‘interesting’. I mostly did paperwork -- briefings, evidence review, stuff like that, although I did meet with a few clients. What about you? How was your day?”

You shrugged. You weren't going to complain about your job, especially since this was your and Matt's first dinner together. “It was busy, but fine. Made the day go by faster.”

Matt nodded. “That's good at least.”

“Yeah.”

Your conversation paused as your server stepped up to your table. “Good evening, and welcome to Okinawa. My name is Katie and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

Matt said your name. “Would you like to go first?”

“Oh.” You quickly glanced at the wine list that was on the table. “Um, yes, I’d like a glass of rosé, if you don't mind.”

Katie nodded. “Of course, ma'am. And for you, sir?”

Matt turned his face towards her. “Can I get a Sapporo, please?”

“Yes, sir. I'll get those drinks for you right away.”

You flipped open your menu as Katie left to go get your and Matt's drinks, inwardly gawking at the prices of the entreés. Maybe I can make do with a side salad for dinner. Or soup. Or a single piece of sashimi.

Matt seemed to be able to sense your panic, because he smiled gently at you. “Order whatever you’d like. It's on me, remember?”

You took a breath and nodded. “Right, okay.”

Katie returned with your drinks. “Alright, would you like any sushi or appetizers to get started?”

You shook your head. You would've loved to try some sushi and there were a few appetizers on the menu that looked interesting, but even though Matt had said to order whatever you wanted you didn't want to push it. “No thank you.”

Matt tilted his head curiously. “You sure?”

You glanced down at the table. Matt's focus was piercing, as if he could sense that you weren’t being truthful. “I'm sure.”

“Okay then. I'm good as well.”

Katie clicked her pen. “Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu?”

Matt shook his head. “I'm ready if you are.”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Katie turned to you. “What can I get for you, ma'am?”

“Can I get…” You quickly scanned the menu and named something that sounded good but didn't cost an arm and a leg.

“Absolutely.” Katie wrote down your order before turning towards Matt. “And for you, sir?”

“I'd like the tuna steak, cooked medium.” Matt picked up his menu and handed it to Katie. “Thank you.”

Katie picked up your menu as well. “I'll get those right out for you.”

“So do you come here often?” you asked as Katie went to put in your orders.

Matt shook his head. “Not very. I mostly do takeout from the more casual places near my apartment, but since this is near the office my partners and I sometimes grab lunch from here, or we'll order in dinner if we're working late. What about you? Have you ever been here?”

You took a sip of your wine before answering. “I've picked up sushi from here for my boss and his colleagues, but I've never actually eaten here myself.”

Matt nodded. “The sushi's actually really good here. Maybe we can come back for lunch one day soon, sit at the sushi bar or a hibachi table.”

You glanced over at the hibachi tables as one of the chefs lit an onion volcano on fire to the delight of the people sitting there. “That would be nice.” If I get a proper lunch break ever again.

“I did think about booking us seats at a hibachi table for tonight, but then figured that something quieter and more intimate would be more appropriate for our first dinner together.” Matt waved a hand around the otherwise-quiet restaurant. “You know, in case we needed to discuss private matters regarding our arrangement.”

You nodded. In all honesty, you were glad Matt hadn't booked a hibachi table -- considering how much he was paying you just for your presence and how expensive the regular menu items were, you couldn't justify making him pay for a full hibachi dinner. “Right, of course.”

Matt took another sip of his beer. “Oh, I meant to ask you, how was lunch with your mom yesterday?”

You smiled. “It was nice. She and I made stir-fried noodles with homemade spring rolls.”

“Oh, that sounds great.”

You nodded. “It was. Mom and I both decided it was a keeper.”

“Do the two of you cook together a lot?”

“We used to before Mom got sick, but since she's been feeling better I think we might start up again.” You took another sip of your wine. “What about you, do you like to cook?”

Matt shook his head. “I don't really have time with my busy schedule. I'm either working or… well, working.”

You huffed out a light laugh. “No wonder you don't have time to date.”

Matt chuckled. “That's why I'm lucky that my best friends are also my business partners. I at least get to spend time with them, even if it's at work.”

Your conversation paused once again as Katie brought your dinners. After she had made sure that the two of you didn't need anything and left once again, you continued. “So how did you and your partners meet?”

Matt nodded. “Foggy and I were paired up as roommates our first year of college and quickly became friends, then once we graduated with our law degrees we decided to open our own firm together. Karen, our other partner, was actually our office assistant when Foggy and I first started the firm but eventually she earned her law degree and joined us as a partner.”

“Oh wow, that's so cool. No wonder the three of you are so close.”

Matt cut into his fish. “We've gone through a lot of tough times together but we made it out in the end.”

You took a bite of your own dinner. “Mmm. Oh, wow.”

Matt smiled at you. “Good?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it's excellent.”

“Good.”

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, Katie only interrupting once mid-meal in order to check on you.

Once you were both finished, Katie came up once again. “Can I interest you in any dessert tonight?”

You hesitated. You definitely felt like you could go for something sweet but you already felt like dinner was costing Matt enough. “I'm --”

“--Actually, yeah,” Matt said before you could wind up saying ‘I’m good, thanks’ . “Can we see the dessert menu, please?”

“Certainly,” Katie replied. “I'll be right back.”

She quickly went to grab a menu, then handed it to Matt. “Here you go. I'll be back in just a few minutes.”

Matt handed the menu to you as she left once again. “Is there anything that strikes your fancy?”

You glanced over it. “Actually, I think I could go for some ice cream.” Besides the fact that it was the cheapest dessert on the menu, after the day you'd had (with the past couple of hours excluded) you definitely needed ice cream, a hot shower, and some sleep -- in that order.

Matt nodded. “You know, actually, that sounds great. What flavors do they have?”

You looked down at the menu. “Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, green tea, and red bean.”

“Okay.”

Katie came back. “Decided on anything?”

“Actually, yes.” Matt gave her his ice cream order.

You smiled. That was the flavor you had wanted as well. “Make that two, please.”

Katie picked up the menu. “Okay, I'll be right back with that.”

“By the way,” you said as she left to go put in your dessert order. “I’ve had a really nice time tonight. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Yeah, same,” Matt replied. “On both counts.”

Katie soon returned with your ice cream and so you and Matt lapsed into comfortable silence once again.

After the two of you had finished and Matt had taken care of the bill, you both stood and put your coats back on.

Matt walked around the table, one hand trailing along the top in order to guide him.

He stopped beside you and unfolded his cane. “Ready to head out?”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. I'm ready.”

“Um, I might need you to guide me outside if that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Matt gently took your elbow and you guided him back towards the front of the restaurant, stopping briefly to thank both Katie and the seating hostess before exiting the building.

Once you were back outside, Matt let go of your elbow. “Thanks. I've got it from here.”

You nodded. “No problem. I'm happy to help guide you whenever you need me to -- consider it part of the service.”

Matt chuckled. “Noted.”

“Are you heading home?”

Matt shook his head and pointed back towards the direction you had come. “I have a few more things I need to wrap up before I call it a night, so I'm heading back to the office.”

“Oh, okay. I'm actually headed in the opposite direction, so yeah, just let me know when you want to get together again and I'll…see you then?”

Matt nodded. “Oh, about that. I was actually thinking Thursday evening, if that works for you.”

You mentally ran through your schedule. You didn't think any of the partners had a late meeting that you'd need to stick around for that day, so… “Yeah, that should work.”

“Great. I'll text you on Wednesday to confirm.” Matt paused. “I’m thinking we could try to keep on a regular dinner schedule of Monday and Thursday just for simplicity’s sake, but I'll let you know as soon as possible if I ever need to reschedule because of work or anything.”

“That sounds good.”

“And I'll give you as much of a notice as possible on any other potential non-work-related outings, which’ll all likely be on the weekends given both of our work schedules.”

You nodded. Besides your weekly visits with your mom your weekends were usually pretty open otherwise. “Okay. So I'll see you on Thursday then?”

“Yeah. See you Thursday.”

“Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

You turned and headed towards your apartment.

You couldn't deny that Matt was attractive, and on top of that he was also sweet and attentive. Hanging out with him definitely isn't going to be a chore.

Matt headed back towards Nelson, Murdock, & Page until you were sufficiently far enough away to where he wouldn't catch up with you, then he doubled back to head home to his apartment. While he had wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and offer to walk you home, he hadn't wanted you to feel pressured to say yes, so instead he told you that he was heading back to the office.

Even though you had said that Matt was easy to talk to, he felt like you had been holding back from him. There had been times during your dinner together when you hadn't been entirely truthful -- the first time being when Matt had asked you how your day had been.

You had said that it had been fine, but the slight tension in your shoulders and the stress in your voice had told Matt otherwise. Either it had been busier than you had let on or something had happened at work to upset you, but either way you clearly hadn't wanted to talk about it.

The second time was when you had been looking at the menu. Matt had purposely chosen Okinawa because not only was it close to the office, but also because the two of you were celebrating the official start of your arrangement.

(And okay, maybe deep down Matt wanted to impress you just a tiny bit.)

He knew the place wasn't cheap -- he, Foggy, and Karen had only started eating there after Nelson, Murdock, and Page had retained enough high-profile clients for them to each earn comfortable livings while still being able to do the pro bono work they were passionate about -- and even then they only ate there on special occasions.

But despite Matt's reassurance that you order whatever you wanted, you had still declined ordering any sushi or appetizers even though you had spent several minutes reading over them, and -- if Matt’s memory served him correctly -- had ordered one of the cheapest entreés on the menu that wasn't a tasting plate.

(Not that there was anything wrong with what you did or didn't order -- Matt just had the feeling that you were uncomfortable with spending more of his money than what you thought you could or should.)

Luckily you had enjoyed your meal and had at least been willing to order the ice cream you had wanted for dessert -- even though it had been at Matt's prompting. I should probably take her somewhere less opulent on Thursday so she feels more comfortable.

He shook his head. He’d worry about that later -- he was going out on patrol once he showered and changed and needed to get into his Daredevil mindset. No distractions. That's the whole point of this arrangement.

#lotmf writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x female reader #Sweet on You Masterlist

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itwasthereaminuteago · 1 year

Text

|| Good Girls Finish First ||

Matt Murdock x female reader

Warnings: The Hard Fucking. All the pet names. Praise. Minor denial, minor cum eating. All the good stuff.

Author's note: a follow up to the Kinktober Praise Kink fic that you guys seemed to really like 🥹

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

You don't know what's louder, the banging of the bed frame against the wall or the hard beating of your heart in your chest. The secondary thrum of hot blood pulsing between your thighs almost feels like it could drown them both out.

"Mmn… M-Matt!"

Your hands are bound tightly to the bed with his work tie, it feels like you've been here for hours. Yet you can't stop him, wouldn't want to, even with your safeword agreed beforehand. You're willingly prone for him, on your knees, your fingers white knuckled, gripping around the railing as much as you can to push back against him as his cock plunges in and out of you so fucking deep. There's so much sound, so many points of stimulation chasing and manipulating you both towards the peak of pleasure. The hot skin of his pelvis and thighs smack so loud against your ass every time he thrusts inside, and the creak and slam of the bed provide the baseline to your personal symphony of sinful, desperate noises.

Matt's ears burn with the sheer carnality of it all. You'd been quiet, shy, and restrained with him up until now, when he'd coaxed your desires out from so deep within you with simple, truthful words of praise.

Oh, and his fingers.

You opened up for him in ways he had only dreamed of, those kinds of dreams that left him panting, hard and wet, aching for you to admit what you wanted, to let go. He'd willfully been so patient as you became more comfortable with him each time you were together, content to let you lead, just until he saw that you needed that little push… a couple of words that flipped a hidden switch in you.

"Oh- oh fuck… harder Matt! Fuck me harder, please!"

He can't help the grin that splits his lips as he gives you what you want, slamming into your sweet warmth with relentless devotion. Even more of your slick wetness coats his cock and drips down his balls as his hand roams over your body, cupping and massaging each of your breasts, making your breathy little gasps clip off as he toys with them, his rough fingertips grazing over your nipples.

"Does that feel good? You like it like this?" He growls deep right by your ear, lips brushing the spot just underneath that you love, sending electric shivers cascading up and down your spine.

He knows the answer even before your almost guttural moan hits his ears in response.

"Oh you're taking me so well," he breathes, struggling to contain the urge to release more of the wildness that's clawing to get out. Your pussy flutters maddeningly around his cock at the praise and he has to slow down. "Fuck sweetheart, so fucking good for me aren't you?"

His questions may well be rhetorical but you answer every one breathlessly, your back arching and thighs shaking at the delicious pull and push of your devil's wicked need within you. You'll never know how but he makes you feel all of life's contrasts. Goodness, depravity, trust, desecration, worship. Every one of them is a simultaneous offering and imposed need.

As the thought floats through your mind a loud whimper escapes you that causes Matt to halt. He caresses you tenderly, his lips a soft brush on your shoulder as he drapes himself gently over you. He might enjoy fucking you hard but he'd never want to cause you discomfort.

"Tell me what's wrong, do you want to stop?"

"I- I want to see you, need to see you…"

"Of course sweetheart." He kisses a trail down your back as he gently pulls out, his hands immediately reaching for the tie. Once your wrists are unbound, you gingerly turn to face him, body slightly stiff but leaning into the way his hands and mouth work to soothe you. You tilt your head to his and when your tongue slips between his parted lips you feel him moan, your fingers coming up to slide through his hair and push him by his chest, guiding him to take your place. He goes where you want him, ecstatic that you're asking for what you need.

You sit straddling his thick thighs, content for a moment watching the curl of his fingers slowly work up and down the length of his cock. He licks his lips, biting down on the lower one as he knows you're watching, sensing your own hand sliding between your legs.

"Mmn, is that better angel?," he almost purrs as he can hear the movement of your wet fingertips teasing your already swollen clit. You rock your hips a little against your hand, watching his grip tighten and strokes get faster, the fact he's lubricated by your slick just turns you on even more.

"Look so good, Matty, so pretty…" you whisper, inching yourself closer until the head of his cock is bumping against your folds. He holds himself back, eager to follow where you lead.

"Such a pretty cock…"

Matt chuckles, a faint blush creeping up his neck and he lets out a contented gasp as you reach for him, letting his own hand fall away as you take over, stroking him steadily and not missing the drip of precome that leaks from the tip. As you pull your hand up you smear it around with your thumb making it glisten and shine.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, eyes closing at the sensation.

"Matty, does it feel good?" You ask him, turning the tables on the game of praise he's been playing with you. He hums, and you can feel his cock throb in your hold as he gives over to your command. You keep jacking him off slowly. "Bet it felt good when you were inside me, didn't it baby?" you tease, rubbing him over your clit again and he groans, nodding as his brows knit together.

"Oh sweetie, nothing feels better…" he says.

You nudge forward so you're directly over him, lining him up with your needy pussy. His hands grab onto your hips and his mouth drops open as you sink down with a long sigh and he's filling you again. You clench around him making him gasp and dig his fingers into your soft flesh as you lean down, your voice a light whisper.

"Fuck me like this Matt, make me cum on your pretty cock." you tell him, your hand sliding back into his disheveled hair and tugging his head back as you begin to slowly grind your hips against his, your tongue licking a stripe up his throat. He gasps, swearing again, lips pulling up into a smirk as you ride him.

"Yeah, that's my girl," he pants out, his hips thrusting upward to meet yours, noting how you lose rhythm as he says it. "Mm, so beautiful, so fucking sexy. You know how it makes me feel when you tell me what you want."

You tug on his hair again releasing a feral growl from deep in his chest, fucking up into you harder with every stroke. You guide his hands over your breasts, whining as he kneads them, feels them bounce as you fuck yourself on him.

"Please, please Matty, I want to cum so bad-" you keen.

"I know…" he moves you gently, placing a hand at your lower back to urge you closer and tilt your pelvis forward so you could get more stimulation against his body.

He licks his first two fingers, sliding them between you to gently rub little circles on your clit. "There you go angel."

It feels fucking amazing and you moan loudly, riding him faster.

"Nngh- that's it honey, just like that." Matt groans, "Take what you need."

The pleasure you're feeling is sublime as he fucks you, his fingers touching you exactly the way you need him to. It's an all-consuming, glowing heat at the base of your spine and he just keeps throwing on more fuel.

"Fuck, you're so good for me…"

You're practically wailing now, eyes glimmering with unshed tears that he can taste in the air. He knows when you're close, he always knows, so tightly wound that when he reduces the pressure of his fingers, only tracing delicately around your clit but not touching directly, you whine with an agonising need.

"Maaaatt!" You sob, your fingers grasping at his chest and hands, begging him for the orgasm that is held just out of your reach. He smiles with a smug satisfaction that you almost want to slap off his face but you can't, not when he's holding the key.

"Use your words sweetheart, I promise I'm gonna make you feel so good, just use your words for me."

You can only whimper in response, completely cock drunk as he changes the angle of his hips and starts hammering right into the spot in you that makes you howl and cry out. He's got you where he wants you, right on the precipice. He was playing with you, seeing how far he could take it, and you were about to explode.

Just one… last… little…

Push.

"Only good girls get to finish first, are you my good girl? Hmm?"

You moan, your entire body shuddering and shaking with how worked up he has you, knowing your weakness, how to make you melt.

"Y-yes Matty, yes…" you choke out, "I'm y-your good fucking girl!"

"You are. Now cum for me, kitten," he growls, feeling your pussy squeeze around him at his darkened tone. "let me hear you scream for me."

You were gone, sobbing with pleasure and relief rippling through your body as his thumb glides over where you need it most, breaking apart, screaming his name out as you cum, just like he asked.

Matt's hands hold firm to your hips, rutting into you, your soft, tight, velvety walls clenching around him have him giving up any sliver of remaining control he might have had left.

"You're mine, mine…"

"yours..." you affirm, lucid enough to watch wide-eyed at how the muscles in his jaw clench and relax, his lips parting to release his strained gasps, the deep heave of his chest, the way his abs twitch and contract with every uncontrollable spasm as he spills deep into you, his hips rolling and stuttering while he cums and doesn't stop fucking you until you tell him to.

You lie breathless on top of him, cheeks damp with tears, quiet murmurs from your lips as he places the most gentle kisses on your shoulder and neck. When he softens you shakily dismount, now highly aware of the mix of both your mess leaking from between your thighs. You sit up and he reaches there, gathering some on his fingers and bringing them up to your mouth.

You suck them clean without question, tasting you together on your tongue. He swiftly rolls you underneath him, giving you a gorgeous smile before dipping down and kissing you deeply.

Good girl.

Tags (if you ever want removed or added let me know): @phoebe-danvers @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass

Hi! If you enjoy my fics please consider reblogging, it means that others get to enjoy them too! I also love to hear if there's anything in particular you liked, please comment! Thank you so much for reading 💕

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @i-simp-much

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x female reader

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devils-dares · 2 years

Note

matty, his wife, foggy and karen playing pool and foggy just complaining at how lovey lovey the reader and matt are being ng because they're just cuddling and she's wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hahah

thanks for your request!

-----

“Is it truly fair to have teams if one of us is… enhanced?” Foggy complains as you laugh, Matt wrapping his arms around you as the two of you win again.

“You’re the one who came up with it in the first place, losers break.” You say, reracking for another round. As Foggy lines up to break, Matt sneaks his arms around you, his chest pressed to your back.

“Hi, lover.” He says, pressing kisses to your jaw.

“Mm, hi.” Laughing, you cover his hands with yours, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. Turning your head, you capture his lips with yours, humming against him.

“So, uh, when are they going to realize that it’s their turn?” Karen says.

“When I’m done kissing my wife.” Matt says, breaking away from you. Shaking your head and smiling, you pick up your pool stick and sink a stripes ball, continuing your turn as you sink another and then miss the third. Handing your pool stick to Karen, you melt back into Matt, the two of you newlyweds not seeming to get enough of each other. His chin ends up resting on the top of your head, the both of you swaying to the music spilling out of Josie’s speakers.

“Matt’s turn.” Karen says.

“Alright, how about I end this all right here and we can start one more round?” Matt says, and Foggy immediately gets up from his seat.

“Nuh uh, you only get a max of two. Make two and your turn is over or else it’s not fair.” That makes a laugh leave you and Karen.

“That seems unfair.”

“You’re… you- it’s totally fair!” Foggy tries to reason and you step in, a hand on your husband’s shoulder.

“I think that’s fair, don’t you, Matty?” You ask.

“Y-yeah, totally fair. Only two, got it.” He stutters through his words.

“Oh come on! All she needed was to put a hand on you?”

“She’s my wife. She just has to tell me.” He says as he lines up for his shot. He sinks two, to no one’s surprise, and surrenders his turn to Foggy. Before he could get his hands on you again, a thud followed by “shit!” makes you look back as Matt snickers.

“Missed it.” Foggy says in a sad voice. You shake your head, grinning at his faux frown.

“Alright angel, we’ve got four to sink.” Matt encourages you as you take aim.

Foggy and Karen watch in horror as you sink one, two, three stripes balls, leaving the 8 ball and you with a wide open shot.

“C’mon bug, you’ve got it.” He puts his hands on your hips, causing you to gasp.

“Just shift your weight a little to the left, there you go!” Foggy is quick to interrupt the moment.

“No coaching, Murdocks!” Matt splits from you and kisses you on your cheek for good luck. You bend back over and take a breath, taking the shot. The 8 ball sinks in clear and Matt cheers.

“That’s it, the Murdocks aren’t allowed on a team together anymore.”

“Don’t hate on us, Fog.” You say, Matt squeezing you tight in a hug as you turn to kiss him, Karen and Foggy’s groans fading in the background as you smile into his lips.

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madschiavelique · 3 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟐

⟢ summary : getting closer to them unleashed a desire within you that cannot be tamed…

⟢ content warnings : NSFW, reader kinda being a perv (she’s obsessed and touch starved), masturbation (reader), reader listens to matt and frank while they’re at it later in the chapter (and she gets off on it), afab!reader, no use of y/n

⟢ word count : 6.7k

⟢ note : remember when i said this was going to be a 2 shot ? well, this is going to be a 3 shot in the end :D (i promise next chap you’ll get that hunter/prey dynamic sweeties)

⟢ previous part : here | next part : here

You'd come back to your flat and taken the opportunity to get some rest. When you're in a small 3 cubic metre room with just enough space for a bed, a mini kitchen and a tiny shower with a lousy toilet, it doesn't take long before you're crashing on your mattress.

Matt and Frank had shown you how to take care of your wounds, giving you a few things to help you out. You'd done everything right, reflecting on that evening all day long.

You couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened, how you'd felt in Frank's arms, how Matt had comforted you and looked after your lip while Frank stitched you up. You thought about how the devil had stripped you and dressed you in their own clothes, how you'd spent part of your night in their beds.

You'd got rid of your trousers, which weren't very comfortable for lying in bed and resting. At this moment, with your back hard against the bed, it wasn't as comfortable as the silk of their sheets. Scanning your ceiling as if it were of some importance, your eyes looked at nothing in particular as your mind replayed those few major moments in your body, your heart and your thoughts during the evening. You were still wearing Frank's T-shirt, and the urge came over you.

You brought the collar of the T-shirt you were wearing up to your nose, the smell of Frank permeating the fabric but you dropped the collar. You shouldn't be doing this, it's inappropriate, it's unprofessional, it's... It's...

You let your nose discover the fabric again, pulling it close to your nostrils and inhaling the perfume left on it.

Your eyelids closed of their own accord as you exhaled softly, your shoulders drooping as the scent itself brought you the comfort of a night full of feelings. The same coolness of the night filled the black fabric as if the garment had been cut from the dark night sky, where you lost yourself.

You let the smell intoxicate you, searching for it everywhere, in every fibre, every seam, every patch, as if you were going to lose it at any moment. You were looking for him in the meanders of what he had left there, and soon enough, you were looking for them.

Had Matt's plump lips rested on the back of his neck, near the collar, where his warm breath would have sent a shower of shivers down Frank's skin?

As one of your hands gripped the fabric and pressed it to your nose as if it held the only scent you could bear, the fabric's folds lifted the shirt enough to expose your panties and bare thighs. It was then that the sudden coolness caressing your thighs and their insides made you aware of the intense heat that had settled in your lower belly.

Almost feverish, carried away by the smell, your free hand went down your body to reach your inner thigh. Your hand slipped under the elastic of your underwear, moving down until a light touch on the sensitive bundle of nerves made you press your thighs together tighter. Taking a heavy breath as your head fell back on your pillow, you let Frank's scent fill your lungs like new oxygen.

Would a guttural growl have escaped as Matt ran his nimble fingers along the fabric of his ribs, reading every curve of his body?

One of your fingers continued lower, slipping as it passed between your lips into the warm wetness of your desire. You pressed it lightly, coating it with your own juices with incredible ease before sliding it in and arching your back slightly at the sensation.

In the throes of euphoria, it wasn't long before you began slow back-and-forth strokes. You tugged at the collar anew, looking for more of the scent as your own warm breath muted the nuance of it.

Would his fingers have run up and down his back, up between his shoulder blades as one went down to his lower back?

The heat in your lower belly spread further, and as a single finger couldn't satisfy your desire, a second was added, curving and sinking into you in a way that made you curl your toes. The freshness of the scent fed the burning fire in your body, urging you to move faster.

Would he have grabbed the sides of that t-shirt, letting his fingers brush mischievously against Frank's skin as he slid it up his body?

You turned onto your side until you were on your stomach, your breath coming in short gasps as you nuzzled your nose close to your shoulder under the shirt and gripped your pillow, squeezing it tightly between your fingers as your back arched.

You eased your fingers away, returning to your aching clit. It almost hurt to touch it with such slow torment, and you began to make faster circular strokes around it.

Would he have taken it off gently, letting the fabric catch every little ounce of perfume on its way before he just pulled it off his arms and the back of his neck to throw it behind them...

The heat intensified, the knot in your lower belly tightening more and more as your movements accelerated awkwardly in your frenzy, losing a steady rhythm as tingles rose in your cheeks.

He would have run his fingers over his jaw, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip before releasing it so that his lips could caress Frank's…

Your teeth sank into your own lip, the latter still stinging as the fresh cut from the night before reigned over it. But the ecstasy in which you found yourself prevented you from giving a damn, letting small splinters of voice die out in your throat and never escape your lips.

What were you doing imagining this intimate scene, these delicate gestures full of unpronounceable words, the language of which only the skin knew. What were you doing as your eyes, hidden behind your eyelids, let you glimpse the projection of this secret duo? What were you doing, mentally observing them as if through a doorway, while Frank turned to you with an intrigued look.

You're staring little one.

The sentence in your mind made you open your eyes again with a jerk, as if the door behind which you were enjoying the spectacle had just slammed shut.

You yanked off the T-shirt and tossed it across the room, as if it had come too close to you, as if it had burnt so close to your skin that it carried with it a curse, or worse: something you wanted but couldn't afford.

Out of breath, feverish, you watched the almost ridiculous heap it formed on the ground, as if the weight of its lightness was not carrying the heaviness of desire. It was too entrancing, you couldn't allow yourself to give in to it.

That shirt was your shame, the extent of your desire, greater in the moment than your mind. You couldn't see it any more, you couldn't, the mere idea of approaching it now twisted your heart like a can.

Pull yourself together, you thought to yourself as your head spun, as you turned away to turn your back on it, moving back in your bed and lying down to look at your wall.

Your heart still pounding, the heat you'd felt growing inside you still present but gradually calming down, you felt the shame hanging over your cheeks and shoulders.

This idyll that you considered, this fantasy that you wanted to make go away was not possible. A flash of the two of them smiling at you in the kitchen earlier in the day came back to the front of your eyes, and you shook your head, closing your eyelids firmly until you saw multicoloured shapes on the skin of them, as if the gesture was going to erase everything.

Your mobile vibrated, and the screen displayed a message from Frank. Of course, while you were chasing them away in your mind, they were tormenting you with messages. Biting the inside of your cheek, you grabbed your phone. They knew you didn't have much contact apart from them, so unless you'd had some sort of problem or were at work you'd be able to reply.

The idea of ignoring the message was to be ruled out, if by some chance they thought you'd had a problem and one of them arrived here in no time to see you in that state... you didn't want to imagine.

Trying to calm your body from its previous emotions, you took your mobile in hand to read his text message.

No patrol for you for the next 3 days, if any of us come across you on the rooftops between now and then, watch out. Frank.

You swallow, your way out to take your mind off things and potentially forget your urges had just flown out the window. There's not much to do in this shabby flat. There's not really much furniture or shelves to work on, or to read, or to do a hobby, or to do anything else, just your chest of drawers to keep your clothes in, the rest being laid out on the floor.

Going out to fight, to decompensate by exercising and spending yourself enough to simply collapse at night and not have to let the possibility of any thought pierce that rhythm, that was your escape.

But now you were stuck in your flat, tomorrow you'd have to go back to work, and you'd have to live with the shame that seemed to bore into your eyes as soon as they rested on the shirt.

The three days were a constant torment. Clients and colleagues looked at you either as an alien or as a porcelain vase ready to break at any moment, while when you looked in the mirror you seemed to be staring at a wreck.

The first evening was already an ordeal for you, not going out as soon as it got dark to roam the rooftops and streets of the city. Still tired from the pain of your wounds though, you finally found a way to fall asleep and get a long night's sleep.

The second, you were irritated, unable to think of anything other than them doing whatever it was you were itching to do. You ended up putting Frank's T-shirt in your dirty clothes and going down to the launderette to get rid of the torment once and for all. You weren't sure how far Matt could smell or hear anyone's every move, but you sincerely hoped that this short night out wouldn't lead them to you for a slap on the wrist.

On the third night, the urge to go out was itching like an addiction. You couldn't bear the idea of standing still and doing nothing when you were perfectly aware of everything that was going on outside. Having located yourself in an area that wasn't very quiet, you had the urge to grab another shirt and get outside as quickly as possible to follow the sirens that were sounding from a distance. You had to discipline yourself to stay in bed and wait for the night to end.

After a few days of sobbing monotony, the routine resumed the next evening when you met them on the rooftops as usual. Questions were exchanged about your injuries, your new t-shirt for your costume - which they disapproved of once again - and then the night continued as if everything was normal.

However, as the nights multiplied, so did the delightfully unusual instances. A gentle tap of encouragement from Matt's hand on your shoulder that lasted a little longer than it should have, an honest smile from Frank that for once seemed less annoyed that you opened your mouth, a look or touch from one that lasted longer than it should have.

The 'patch-up' evenings began to increase in their turn, resulting in you often coming to their homes in the evening to help tend to them when they no longer had the strength to do anything other than lie down and grunt in pain. This time, you made it a point of honour to sleep on the sofa and not in their bed.

The next mornings for them were rewarded with good coffees that you prepared for them. If working in a café gave you any expertise at all, it was waking up a grouch and a sleepyhead in the morning in a pleasant atmosphere.

Soon, the evenings at their place became more recurrent than those you spent in your flat. So much so, in fact, that they installed an extra mattress near the stairs leading up to the roof for you. It wasn't much, but it was much nicer than the general atmosphere in your flat. Later, after this stage, they came to visit you at work.

The first time this happened, it was Matt who had turned up with his colleagues as if nothing was wrong at the café counter. Playing innocent at the time had been a strange experience.

"A mocha? Really" laughed Karen.

"What ?" retorted Foggy, "it's the most professional way I've found of not having a hot chocolate straight away, so consider yourself lucky for this exemplary behaviour.

"Oh yes, extremely professional."

"Come on," Foggy said indignantly before turning to you.

"Any cafe can look professional if you don't take a closer look at what's in it," you admitted, offering an inverted smile and raising your eyebrows.

"Finally a sane person here," Foggy said, raising his arms slightly in the air victoriously.

"So a mocha with extra chocolate?" you offered. "Extra's on the house."

"Careful with that, I might just become your next regular," pointed Foggy.

"I don't see what the warning would be," you laughed, noting down his order. "For you?"

"A latte, please," Karen replied.

"And I'm the one being unprofessional here."

As the two were zealously debating what a proper professional coffee is, and how the only thing that differentiates their two choices is the fact that Foggy's coffee had chocolate in it and Karen's didn't, Matt walked over to you. You were tempted for a moment to say "the usual?" but, not knowing what he'd told his colleagues about whether he'd come here often or not, you simply waited for him to tell you what he'd ordered.

You were aware of his habits and routines. In the morning, it varied from the fact that he simply needed something strong to wake him up, in which case he'd have a turkish coffee; or if he had more time and wanted to indulge himself, he'd have a latte with sugar, or tea. In the evening, he'd have tea or herbal tea, maybe even camomile tea, even though you knew full well that, tired as he was, camomile tea wouldn't even help him fall asleep.

"A red berries tea, please.

"Not even in the coffee family now, what is this meeting." Foggy grumbled.

You let them take their places in the café, at a table towards the back, preparing everything with care. You were already doing your job well on a daily basis, but the fact that Matt was there, accompanied by his colleagues, made you want to make a good impression.

Do they know? you wondered. Were his colleagues and friends aware that many of his nights were filled with doing his own justice when the Court couldn't do it? You brought them the tray, much to Foggy's delight.

"The mocha for you-" you said, placing Foggy's cup in front of him.

You nearly shook your tray as a sudden sensation spread through you from a gesture invisible to Foggy and Karen, who were too focused on the arrival of their drinks: Matt's fingers had come to rest on the back of your leg, gently tracing them up and down.

You were used to a few touches from him. Since he'd taken care of your lip and dressed you again, his gestures towards you had become more frequent. Of course, there were the taps on the shoulder to congratulate you, but there were all the points of honour he seemed to give himself for your fingers to brush against each other when you gave him his cup of coffee.

You'd already twice simply put his cup on the counter, notifying him of the fact that you'd finished making it, but he seemed to be making up excuses to get you to bring it to him.

"I think this ankle's a bit sore this morning, could you bring it here for me please" or "I think one of the hits I got last night messed me up a bit, I'm going to need some time to recover" and other excuses to get you to take the cup from your hands.

So, soon enough you realised that there was no alternative but to give it to him yourself. You wondered if he was doing this because he could hear your heart beating slightly faster as soon as your skins touched. Matt wasn't the lazy type, so it didn't take you long to realise that he was taking a malicious pleasure in his meagre contact with you.

The confirmation was amplified by the fact that whenever the two of you had the opportunity to share a moment, even just sitting next to each other led to situations where his fingers brushed your thigh. You could feel it sometimes, when he was the one examining your wounds, that his fingers stayed against your skin longer than they should have.

And the sudden feeling of his fingers on the back of your leg sent a shiver up your spine. Did he even have the slightest idea of what this could do to you?

Yes, it was hard to doubt, especially at that moment.

"The latte," you tried to pronounce as you managed to keep your composure, even though Matt's fingers were exerting delicious caresses just behind your knee, making you fear at any moment that you might bend and fall. "And the tea."

You placed his cup in front of him with the bag and the little teapot of hot water, his free hand obviously coming to grasp the cup while your fingers still encircled it. A shit eating grin spread across his lips as you straightened up and brought your tray back close to you.

"Oh, could you pour the water please?" he asked as his whole hand gently came to grip the back of your thigh. "I would, but I'm afraid if I do that the table will turn into a pool of boiling water."

You knew that wasn't true, that Matt could probably have poured the water into his tea a metre high between the cup and the teapot that not a single drop of water would have settled on the table.

Neither Foggy nor Karen seemed to notice of this hidden treatment he was giving you, Foggy humming against his mug in anticipation of drinking his coffee, while Karen rummaged in her bag for documents.

"Sure," you agreed as you picked up the teapot, placed the bag in the cup and began to pour.

Matt's hand gently pressed against your thigh, his thumb circling the fabric of your pants which could have very quickly become enough of a distraction to burn your hand as you poured the hot water.

"Hmm," Foggy hummed as he took a sip of his coffee, "Matt why are you only suggesting this place now?"

His hand moved slightly up your thigh, though not into the field of vision of his two colleagues, bringing the heat up into your lower belly gently like embers being blown on to rekindle a fire.

"I suppose I like to keep my little gems to myself." Matt said, turning to Foggy with a satisfied smile, the phrase making your heart drop into your stomach as you calmly finished pouring the water into his cup.

"Matt gatekeeps, I've seen it all," Foggy huffed.

"All done," you confirmed to Matt as you straightened up.

"Thank you," he grinned at you before letting go of your thigh for a moment, which you seized to leave the table and walk in what you hoped was a normal attitude to the back of the shop.

Closing the door behind you, you let your back press against it. Your heart was beating in your chest like you had just run a marathon. You pressed the back of your hands to your cheeks, warmed by the previous gestures you could still feel lingering on your clothed skin.

You didn't know what you were supposed to feel any more. Was this attraction that you thought impossible to feel for each other, and that you forbade yourself to feel, even possible?

You had to take a few minutes to pull yourself together and get out of the storage room, hoping you wouldn't have to come and serve them any more than you wanted to.

The nights of fighting together resumed as always, Matt seeming excited to see you each time, and Frank gradually seeming less grumpy in your presence - to say that he too was 'excited' by your company would have been a suspicion you thought unlikely.

The next time, however, it was Frank who came to visit you at work.

You were in charge of closing that evening, and Frank had unexpectedly turned up shortly before closure, when no-one was there but you. It was downpouring that evening and you'd been cursing yourself for not having an umbrella.

He seemed as surprised as you were to see you, as if his own presence here in front of you astonished him. There was always a twinkle in those dark eyes, a curious glint that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was a little light waltzing hesitantly across his look, which as soon as he got into a fight vanished to make way for two pools of ink, obsidian pearls reflecting nothing but anger, shark eyes mingling with the storm bombarding down his throat.

He was standing in front of you, towering over you as you looked up at him from behind the counter. His eyes were staring at you, shining with a message you couldn't read. You felt tiny like this, under his eyes, under his mass, under the mountain he was facing you.

"Hey," you finally said, clearing your throat.

He seemed to come out of something himself, as if your voice were a gentle hand reaching out to gently touch the bubble surrounding him. He blinked a few times, his gaze drifting over the many different objects on the café counter.

"Um," he began, obviously searching for what he wanted to say to you as he frowned and swallowed. "Could I get a coffee?"

Your eyes widened slightly, the simplicity of the question making your parted lips stretch into a smile, a single laugh swelling your chest for a moment.

"What's so funny," he then asks, confused by your small smile.

"Nothing," you laugh as you pull yourself together, moistening your lips with a flick of your tongue before looking up at him again, a teasing frown knitting your brows together. "Keeping an eye on me?"

He tilted his head back to the side, his eyes looking down at you as he chewed on a bit of his cheek.

"Making sure you don't end up burning the place down," he said with a vague gesture, pointing at you with his chin as he raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm that incompetent?" you ask playfully, placing both hands on the counter and leaning forward slightly.

"Clumsy and risk-averse sound better," a pout coming from his mouth as he shrugs.

"Risk-averse?"

"You're the one who wears clothes a little too thin for a fight where all hits and weapons are allowed," he says, placing a hand on the counter as he leans towards you, "am I wrong?"

You bite your lip, he had a point, that was for sure.

"Are you here to make sure I don't cut myself on the label of those bloodthirsty tea bags?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

" You'd be capable of it," he admits, straightening up, "But I'm here for one coffee, no actually, for two coffees."

"Two?" you ask as you pick up a mug, followed by a second which you place on the counter as you start to prepare everything. "Did you invite Matt?"

"Not really," his eyes follow your movements carefully before returning to your own.

At the time, you attribute this request to thirst. He's a big man, with a big stomach, and enough grump in him that several coffees in one day is only enough to soften his irascibility. So his pragmatism had led him to have two coffees in one go, you thought.

"What do you want?"

"Just a normal coffee."

"What about the second one?"

"I don't care, just pick one."

You took your usual choice, starting to prepare it under Frank's observant gaze. You began the process with a skilled hand, accustomed to all measurements and other gestures.

"You do this to a lot of people?" you ask over your shoulder as you get everything ready, "to come in just before a place closes."

"Only for my little trouble," he admits.

The nickname sends a shiver down your spine until your cheeks heat up.

"To make more trouble?" you ask playfully.

" Everyone's got their own caviar," he huffs as he watches you at work.

You continued all your preparation, your back to him. He wasn't that far away, and you could feel his stare pressing into your back, covering the entirety of your covered skin like a blanket.

You were trying your best to keep your mind on the right track, to make sure your thoughts didn't wander back to the T-shirt.

You hadn't had a chance to give it back yet, not taking it out on patrol for fear it would end up a rag laced with bullet holes and knife cuts.

"I didn't know I was so much fun to mess with," you admit as you pour the first coffee into a mug.

"Yeah, 'guess surprises can never be taken for granted."

You pour the second coffee into the second cup, placing both in front of him, satisfied.

"Two coffees for you, sir," you smiled, wiping your hands on a cloth.

The nickname 'sir' seemed to leave an impression on him that was at odds with the mood of the conversation so far. His jaw clenched, the muscle at the corner of it tensing, but he pulled himself together and took the two cups in hand. Looking at how tiny they seemed between his fingers, you were surprised when he called out to you:

"Don't stand there rooted to the spot, get over here."

It was then that you realised that the second coffee wasn't for him, but for you.

Frank was inviting you in for a coffee.

The realisation almost took you by surprise, and your heart made its presence felt in your chest all at once. You put the cloth down on the counter, moving to the other side of it to follow Frank.

The lights in the café were almost all switched off, except for those in the reception area, which gave the atmosphere a very intimate, secluded quality.

The rain was pouring down, beating down from drop to drop, crashing against the window near where Frank sat on the seat. You took your place, coffee cup on your side opposite him.

Your fingers wrapped around the warmth of your cup, letting them slip through the handle. Frank was already starting to drink his own coffee, his fingers crossing the handle in a way that made you immediately look down at the contents of your cup before squinting on his phalanx.

Fuck, even the way he's holding a goddamn cup makes you feel all gooey.

"So you're inviting me in for a coffee?" you ask, bringing the hot drink up to your lips to blow on it.

He puts the mug down in front of him, his finger hooking over the cup to catch a single drop of coffee dripping onto its immaculate white surface.

"Take it as you wish," he said, bringing his finger to his lips to retrieve the brown pearl.

You took a sip of your coffee, setting the cup down on the table and letting your hand rest beside it. You raised your eyes to his, watching you as if you were the missing piece of a puzzle he had been trying to solve for some time.

A small smile spread across your lips, and he frowned, waiting for an answer from you on this reaction. You shook your head, looking at the contents of your cup as if it were about to turn into tea and you could read the leaves to find out where this conversation was going.

"'To think that you hated me in the first place, and now we're both together over coffee."

"Hated you?" he repeated as if the word felt peculiar on his tongue, as if it tasted wrong. "No, I was suspicious."

"It didn't take long to realise that you'd be suspicious of a hen if she looked at you for just a little too long," you remark as you grab your coffee again, sinking a little deeper into the leather of the bench seat.

"There's a reason to be suspicious of chickens," he counters, "these horrors are descendants of the freaking dinosaurs."

"Of course, these days they're a huge risk," you shrug.

"Make fun of me." he grinned, a wolfish laugh rising from his lungs as the mere sight of him smiling made your cheeks heat up.

He took his cup in hand, bringing it close to his lips without drinking just yet. He pressed his tongue against his teeth, his lips parted, and the sound was like lighting a cigarette lighter. He stared into space, mentally weighing up the pros and cons of what he had to say.

"You're growing on me better than I'd like to admit," he muttered before taking a sip.

Your heart suddenly felt soft, like a marshmallow on the fire getting all melty and warm. The heat spread to your shoulders and throat in a delicious way.

"Really?" you asked.

"Yeah," he admitted, staring into your eyes.

You tried to hold his gaze, intense as it was. Playing with the shape of the handle of your cup, you tilted your head to one side.

"Like a pretty flower, I hope," you smiled.

"More like a weed," sighed Frank, his lips stretching into a sneer nonetheless.

"The addictive ones?" you brought your mug close to your lips again, the still-warm vapour containing it mixing with the heat of your cheeks.

"No, like the ones you want to get rid of," he replied.

The tone wavered between joke and reality, and you didn't know exactly where you stood, but you waltzed along with the conversation as best you could.

"Too bad for you," you said, shrugging your shoulders and sighing, "they're the most resilient."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Frank glanced at you, his eyes surprisingly soft.

Then you felt your chest tighten, closing in on itself as you'd let your little heart uncover itself and welcome the warmth of a brief moment of delight just to snatch it all away at once.

"Because I'm the human version of a migraine to you?" you asked, your tone suddenly more irritated and cold than the playful attitude you'd adopted since the start of the conversation.

"Because you've entered me and Red's lives so easily, in a way that makes me doubt you'll ever come out of it."

Nothing in his eyes or voice conveyed any discomfort at the idea. Was it really what they were both thinking?

You wondered for a second if he hadn't finished his sentence, if a furtive "but" was going to slip in just after those words and shatter whatever little seeds of hope had been planted in your mind and were gradually sprouting on your heart.

He still had time to trample all that underfoot, to make sure that under his big combat boots he could crush what remained of your wishes. But he did nothing, there was no trace of searching for words on his face, he just seemed to be waiting. Waiting for you.

With your cup in your hand, bringing it close to your lips, you exchanged a glance with him for a moment, and you felt that your next words had an undeniable importance in his eyes. The idea that everything about you was actually important to them gave you a special feeling that you wanted to grasp and snuggle up to, lest it slip away.

"I'm beginning to think you're right," you managed to say before taking a sip from your cup.

"Everything happens," Frank smiled at you, joining in the gesture.

You had finished your coffee, and the rain had calmed down enough outside until not a single drop had fallen against the café window, and Frank decided it was time for him to go back to the flat.

"'Never hated you by the way,' he said once outside the café. "Alright little one?"

You smiled at him, nodding as he turned to go home.

Things began to get really complicated on one particular evening.

At first glance, it was nothing out of the ordinary. You'd had a fairly normal patrol for what you had to deal with on a daily basis, and you'd gone back to the guys' house to disinfect a few small scratches here and there, nothing too serious.

You had eaten a little, chatted as usual, and gone to bed. It was already late at night, and the desire to drink a glass of cool water woke you from your sleep.

Walking slowly on tiptoe, you ventured into the kitchen and silently filled yourself a cup of water. Once you'd quenched your thirst, you made your way back to your mattress, but when you reached the exact spot between your sleeping area and their bedroom, you heard a low voice.

Wondering if they were awake, you stood still for a moment, simply taking a single step towards the wall of their room.

"Hm," you managed to hear through the tiny crack in their sliding door.

You smiled softly, the idea of one of them talking in his sleep making you laugh inaudibly. You were just about to make your way back to your bed, when this time you managed to distinctly hear in the silence of the flat:

"Oh fuck."

Your hand had never reached your mouth as quickly as at that moment, trying as best it could to reduce to zero decibels the sound of your breathing and your heart having travelled up to your ears and obliterating all sound there.

Had you heard correctly?

You moved closer to the wall, your hand pressed so hard against your lips that you had to loosen it very gently to give yourself a chance to breathe. None of them were talking in their sleep as you might have thought, unless the dream in question included so much movement in their sheets and so many interspersed breaths.

With your back against the wall just outside the bedroom, you calmed your breathing, the feeling that your heart could be heard in the whole flat forcing you to find a rhythm that wasn't delirious. Gently, you let yourself slide down the cold wall, sitting with your knees close to you as you listened.

You shouldn't, you kept telling yourself as the memories of the sensations you'd experienced what seemed like the closest eternity ago on that day in your flat with Frank's T-shirt pressed against your skin.

It was when an additional murmur mixed with a groan came from the slight gap in the sliding door that your doubts were certified.

You should have left, should have taken refuge under your sheets and lay down on the mattress, pulling your blanket over your ears to muffle what you could hear...

"Don't stop..."

Inhaling as quietly as you could through your fingers, your thighs squeezed themselves, the search for any friction kicking off deep inside you.

You could feel your lower belly heating up, a persistent warmth settling in the hollow of your thighs and preventing you from thinking about anything other than whatever sound was coming from their rooms.

You could hear the lustful sounds of sucking, of a slight jerk of the body that you could guess was hips bucking into something, a hoarse rumble rising from the very depths of the other's chest.

Your free hand moved down your belly, past the elastic of your sweatpants and your underwear at the same time. You stayed like that for just a moment, hesitating about your next move.

It was wrong, it was revelling in their intimacy like that. But you were now awake, and so painfully aware of your own needs that you couldn't go back.

Your head tilted back and your eyelids closed on their own at the cool touch of your fingers on your damp skin from their hold on your glass of water. The contrast was intense, your digits heating little by little between your lips as they coated your fingers over their entire length with your essence.

You stifled your own moan as you let one, then two fingers sink into you, your shoulders pushing forward, caging your chest as your legs spread a little wider to ease the movement.

Turning your head to the side, pressing your warm cheek against the cool wall, you tried to hear more.

You could clearly hear one voice out of the two, one that was holding back, that seemed to be struggling to find a steady breath. His sighs were laced with muffled moans, his inhalations blocked with a fully open mouth before only letting his breath expel from between his lips.

Each moan spread a shower of embers under your skin, all heating up more and more inside you, a summer fog stretching in your lower belly with intensity. You were attentive to every sigh, every little quickening of breath mingled with the acceleration of rhythm that the other was making with sticky noises.

Your fingers reached the spot inside you, the little spongy part towards the top of your gummy walls that made you see sparks. You were close, your breath becoming less and less regular as you tried to make as little noise as possible.

"Shit Frank," Matt's voice stammered in a forced whisper, "I'm gonna-"

But he never finished his sentence, groans interrupting whatever words he was hoping to utter. Frank's response was not heard, you could only hear a muffled dark grumble followed by a muffled groan from Matt as he shook.

You heard the rhythm pick up, the movements on the sheets becoming more clumsy as Matt's breathing quickened. Your heart was pounding as your fingers continued to curve back and forth, your palm rubbing against your clit for friction. You were practically biting your cheek until it bled as the knot in your gut tightened and tightened and...

"F- Frank..." stuttered Matt as his breathing became increasingly laboured, "Frank," he called as his voice rose in pitch, "Frank!"

And everything exploded within you, like lightning striking metal and spreading waves of electricity through you like a second heart. Your thighs trembled, pleasure surging through you from your toes to the back of your skull.

But you couldn't enjoy this climax for long. The movements on the other side of the wall seemed to subside, Matt's breathing coming steadily as a quiet descriptive pop sounded.

The sheets moved again, and you realised your situation. Your breathing returned to normal as your cheeks felt as warm as the sun. Moistening your lips as you took your hand away from your lips, you watched a spot in the void in front of you.

You made the greatest effort to sit up in total silence, hoping that Matt's mind would be sufficiently scrambled not to have heard you as you returned to your mattress. With your heart still pounding, you slipped back under your blanket, the warmth of your body fading.

Hopefully none of them would find out.

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