#oc: murdock

[fridaydevils]

I really, really, really like necromancers

[manofbeskar]

kada pirates! (star wars oc pirate crew) their ranks/roles are at the top of their images and names below, with epithets or aliases in the quotations

*made a mistake, ikada is not the "red captain", he's the "red-haired chiss" as reference to red-haired shanks. red captain/red x is his rival's epithet lmao

[dogtistic-swag]

a giggly Murdock for you all :]

[so-far-frogs-and-oscar]

Yeah, I'm fine

*Types "<character name> x reader" into tumblr search bar*

[graves-doodles]

Behold, my favorite blorbos 🤲

[grippingbeskar]

hands off | matt murdock

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (mutual masturbation, mxf intercourse, dirty talk) swearing, established relationship

a/n: okay. OKAY! okay. be gentle with this one because it’s my first matt fic!!! also, i saw this video on tik tok about ppl doing this game thing, but idk who posted it first and i don’t have the videos, but that’s where the dies comes from. also this is literally just smut, don’t even look at me ITS BEEN A LONG WEEK. okay bye. literally posting this and running away to sleep bc i am afraid BYE.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sooo? You like it?” You keep to your side of the couch as Matt brings the glass up to his mouth for a second time. He hums, swallowing and licking his lips, and you have to bite down on your own to control yourself.

Asshole.

“It’s…”

“What?”

“Sweet.” His voice rumbles. You think you should have tied yourself down or something, because there’s no way you can win this stupid bet if he was going to keep teasing you like this. He wasn’t even doing anything, really. Everything he did seemed to turn you on in some way or the other, especially now, as the alcohol starts to kick in, warmth spreading through your face, flowing all the way down.

It was your idea; this whole bet. You and Matt had been together for a while now, and the longer you spent with him you realised how much of a fucking tease he was. So, in your muddied brain, you decided two could play at that game, even though you were almost certain you would fail miserably. You were, however, planning on giving him a run for his money. Or your money, considering how you had both put two hundred dollars on the table for the winner.

The rules were simple. You drink an entire bottle of wine- your favourite brand, hence the taste testing Matt was currently being put through, and sit on opposite ends of the couch. The first one to break - to touch the other in any way, loses. You were notoriously… frisky, when you drank wine, and Matt thought the game was going to be innocent enough until you started popping more bottles.

“Good sweet or bad sweet?” You say, and he empties the glass, holding it out for you to pour him another.

“I’d give it a good 7 out of 10. I’ve tasted better.” He hears the exasperated gasp of shock, and smiles in a way that’s so classically Matthew that your heart skips a beat. He probably hears that too.

“This is the best thing I have ever had. What could possibly taste better than this?!” You pour him another glass that he downs half of quickly, eager to get to the good part.

“I can think of a few things.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and he smirks, taking another sip.

“That feels like cheating.” Your entire body ignites at the shift in mood, and you nearly shiver when his hand trails along the edge of the couch, moving dangerously close to your shoulder, then retreating back.

“Hey, you said no touching. Nothing in the rules about telling you how much I love your-“

“Okay! Okay. I get it. Finish your glass, cheater.” He downs the rest obediently, placing the glass gently on the table, right next to the stack of fifty dollar notes you had pooled. He was smirking - clearly thinking he was already ten moves ahead of you, but you had a couple tricks up your sleeve to win this thing. Well, one trick.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?” You finish your glass and get rid of it, the empty wine bottles clanking together somewhere on the floor.

“Well, obviously you are going to lose, so do you want to just give up now, or do we have to play this whole little game first?” Typical. Complete confidence, right from the start.

“Listen, Murdock. One thing you’ll learn about me tonight, is that no matter how incredibly attractive you look right now, I am very competitive. Very. Competitive. Especially when it comes to money, because I am also very broke.” He laughs again, his head hanging back off the couch. “Besides, who says you won’t break first?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take you apart from right here.” His voice has dropped an octave. You recognise that tone in an instant. He only talks to you like that, all commanding and a little mocking; when he’s fucking you. Or about to fuck you. Your whole body reacts to him - you don’t even have a choice in the matter, it’s like a bell rings and you’re switched into that mode. All he needs to do is talk to you like that, and you want to get on your knees and forget all about this stupid bet and-

“Am I right? You think I can make you all sweet and desperate just talking to you?” Yes. He could. He knew it, because he’d done it before, but you weren’t ready to give him the satisfaction. Not when the game had barely started.

“Who says we’re just gonna talk?” You settle back, letting your legs stretch just this side of your half of the couch.

“Is that a threat, honey?” The endearment mixed with his slightly rough tone has you tightening every muscle in your body, and if you didn’t get a hold of yourself you might as well just shreds your money now.

“Just got a few ideas, that’s all.” You blink innocently, and he scoffs.

“I promise we’ll do all the things I know your pretty little head is thinking about right now. All you have to do is give in to it.” The way he’s sitting is so cocky; if he wasn’t so fucking sexy you think you’d slap him. Arms stretched out, one dangling over the back, the other strung lazily across his stomach, making a perfect line down to where his legs are spread as wide as possible. You don’t miss how easy it would be for you to slot yourself in to that spot, to be surrounded by him.

“Hmm. Tempting.” He shrugs, almost saying ‘I know.’ “Or, you could come over here.”

“Now why would I do that?” He asks, leaning forward. You start as slow as possible. This was really the only idea you had to get him to break. Maybe if you threatened it, alluded to it enough, he would forget all about the money and the bet and jump on you.

“Maybe I’ve got something to sweeten the deal.” You trail a slow fingertip up your leg, past your knee and creeping it along your thigh. The fabric of your skirt scrunches up as you get higher, and Matt’s head straightens when he hears it.

“What are you doing?” Still, his voice is that low, gravelly sound that sends shivers up your spine, and you bite your lip to stop a smile before answering him.

“You know how wine makes me.” He knew very, very well, being the object of all your wine-induced fantasies. “I’m all hot, and if you aren’t going to help me…”

“Don’t.” He practically growls, and you let out a breathy laugh as you use your other hand to pull up your skirt completely. He may not be able to see you - but he knows exactly what your doing and how your doing it. He can hear the way you’re moving, the skips in your heartbeat as your finger trails higher and higher. The smell of you, how it changes as you get closer to the wetness between your thighs. He knows. And he looks like he hates it.

Jaw set, he grinds his teeth as you ignore his simple demand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you touching yourself - he loved it; encouraged it, even, but he wanted to be there for it. Involved in it. If you ever needed that specific kind of relief, he wanted to be the one to give it to you. Even on the few times he’s been away, he’s sent you videos, called you and made sure he was the only one who pushed you over the edge. His name on your tongue as you came to the thought of him, to his words or his pictures. He always wants to be the one. And he always is.

He also has never not been able to touch you, because if you knew one thing, it’s that Matt Murdock was not a man that shared what was his. Especially not you, even with your own hand.

“Stop.” Matt manages to say, and you hum, relishing in the attention he’s focusing on you. You spread your legs a little wider, making yourself comfortable. “That’s cheating.”

“Nothin’ in the rules about touching myself, Matty.” You breathe, and then gasp as your finger brushes over your most sensitive spot, still covered by your lace underwear. “Unless you want to come over here and make me stop?”

“I know what you’re doing. You’ll have to try a little harder than that, sweetheart.” His face is set so hard, like how you’ve seen him in the court room. Focused, not betraying a single emotion on that sweet face of his. You were going to wipe that stoic look off his face one way or the other.

“I’m gonna take these off.” You narrate, hooking your fingertips under the seam of your underwear, and start to slowly pull them down your legs. As you get about halfway, the fabric bunching over your knees, you sigh sweetly. “Help me out, baby?”

He exhales in a short, sharp laugh. He wasn’t technically touching you, and you both knew it was the closest he could get without forfeiting. Leaning forward, he used one hand to grab the part of your underwear not touching any skin, and starts pulls them down. The soft material slips over your shins and calves, and you know he’s going slow on purpose. You lift your feet up so he can remove them fully, and you watch intently as his thumb brushes over his new prize.

“The purple ones?” He recognises the fabric and you moan out a ‘mhmm’. “My favourite.”

“I know.” You let your legs fall open again, and you could of sworn you heard a small sound come from him at the movement. A crack in the ice. It ignites your confidence, and makes you want to keep going. Keep pushing. “Wore them for you.”

“Such a good girl, all the time. You wouldn’t be this mean. Not to me, right?” The words were sweet as honey. You loved when he spoke to you like that - with praise and a little bit of authority. It made you squirm, but you had to hold it together a bit longer. String him out a little further. You just moan again, your hand finding it’s destination, one finger running up and down in between your legs, brushing over your clit lightly. Just how he teases you. You see his face change. “You’re going to regret this.”

“But it feels so good, Matty.” His grip on the back of the couch tightens.

“Better than me?” You shake your head vehemently, appeasing his ego and moaning a negative incase he can’t figure out your answer from the sound of your movement.

“Nothin’ better than you.”

“I know, baby. Why don’t you let me take care of you? Come just a little closer, and I’ll make it all better.” Your toes curl, and you start to make small, tight circles right over your soft centre, nerves alight and sending shocks up your entire body. His voice is all you’ll need to get there, you just need him to keep talking.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Your jaw falls open, no longer able to hold it together. “Just want you so bad.”

“If you want me so bad, come here.” His tone is a little more demanding. Frustrated. Stubborn. Another crack. You resist the urge to smile.

“Will you- will you tell me? What you’d do if you could touch me?” He sits up, unzipping his pants and shoving them off aggressively. His erection is impossible to ignore, and your mouth waters at the sight of it when he pulls his boxers down and lets himself free.

“That’s what you want? You want me to tell you all the things I’m going to do to you when you break?” You don’t miss the cockiness in his words, but you just moan again, too lost in the feeling of your fingers against your clit. “Fuck. Okay - okay, slow down.”

You listen, obedient even when defiant. He can hear the sounds of your hands against your arousal slow to about half the speed, and the orgasm that was growing in your stomach is now only being stoked, your legs jolting every time you brush against your clit.

“Good fucking girl. I always go slow first, don’t I?”

“Mhmm.” You moan out, and he chuckles. The fucker was laughing at you. Pay back was going to be a bitch. You were really about to give in, then. Not now, though. If he was stubborn, you were going to beat him at that game, too.

“That’s it. Nice and slow for me. Want you all warmed up when you make yourself cum on my cock.” Oh. God - maybe you couldn’t outlast him. It was those kinds of words, sung to you in a voice so low and clear it was impossible to listen to anything else, that was what did it for you. What undid you every time. Fuck being stubborn.

“Oh God, Matt. Please - c-can I go faster?” He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, and you are mesmerised as he pumps his hand just once, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You can go a little faster. Since you asked me so nice. I’d do it for you.” You speed up, the fire in your tummy getting more aggressive as soon as you indulge the feeling. He pumps up and down once more, and his face screws up a little. Not in pleasure entirely, but something a little uncomfortable. At first you think it might be the situation, but then you look down, and recognise his problem. Your submissive side instantly takes over, your brain only knowing to do what you knew he wants. What he needs.

“You want me to help you, baby?” Matt swallows as he feels you get closer, but nods just once, taking his hand off himself. You hover above him, making sure he can feel the heat of your breath kissing the sensitive head of his cock as you angle down closer. God - what you wouldn’t give to wrap your mouth around him right now. You miss the taste of him - the feel of his hand threaded through your hair, how he tangles himself into it to feel the most of you that he possibly can.

Slowly, you let your spit drip down his length, alleviating the uncomfortable feeling of his dry hand. He doesn’t move, just lets you take your time getting him as wet as you are. Matt’s chest rises and falls so fast you think he might pass out, and his head is hung back so far that you can’t see his face from this angle. You bet it’s screwed up, and his mouth is open a little. He always looks so good when he’s strung out.

You start to retreat, careful not to brush against him as you sit back on your half of the couch, satisfied with your work. His hand wraps around his cock as soon as he feels your body heat move away, and the pain once etched on his face is replaced by only pure pleasure. The sight of him has you quickly returning your hand to your pussy, matching the pace he sets.

“Thank you.” He croaks out, and you silently high five yourself for how fucking ruined he sounds.

“Your welcome.” You sound exactly the same.

“God - I want to fuck you so badly right now.” He sighs, moaning your name as he starts pumping his hand harder, hips bucking irregularly. “You know it’d feel so good.”

“It would. You always fuc-“ You cry out as a wave of pleasure suddenly hits your chest, the new rhythm he was setting on himself having you seeing stars. “Always feel so good. Miss having you inside me.”

“Come here. Now.” He says through his teeth, and you just keep moaning out his name. He tries a new approach. “Baby. Baby, please come here. I’ll -I’ll let you cum so many times you won’t remember your fucking name. Just give it up already. I know you want to.” A new crack of determination nuzzles its way through the overwhelming pleasure at his words. Maybe it’s because it’s not actually Matt touching you right now that you are able to form a thought, but his words have you speeding up. Let you come.

Asshole.

“Fuck, Matty. I’m so cl-close - I think I’m gonna-“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He almost shouts, hand pumping furiously at his cock as he cuts you off. It almost looks like it hurts, and maybe it does a little, but the sounds of his hand moving against himself with your spit is making your brain go fuzzy. Trying your best to keep up with him, your back arches off the couch and you turn your head to the couch cushion.

“Can’t stop, feels too good I just-“ The burn in your arm is secondary to the release you were chasing, and it was so close. You knew what you needed. He had gone silent, because he knew, too. If he spoke, that would be it. He had such a hold on you that all it would take would be a few well placed words and you would crumble in front of him, and for the first time, it was the last thing he wanted.

“Slow down. Right now.” Your back was arching off the couch, and it was an effort not to stretch your legs out. Bunched up on your end, your eyes were glued to Matthew, his abs flexing hard and free hand still fisting the couch, white knuckled. “Do not fucking finish without me.”

The tone of his voice was so low and harsh, he wasn’t meaning to but he was only making it worse. Teetering on the edge, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from talking.

“I wish you were touching me right now. Your hands feel so rough sometimes and I always think about it, think about how good it feels on me.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, the words flowing out of you from the darkest parts of your tipsy mind.

“Baby just-“ His hand gets faster, you can hear it, his restraint snapping little by little. “You just gotta come over here. Please.” You try to block out how hot he sounds begging for a glimpse of you, so you keep talking yourself through it, thinking of the things he would say if he was fucking you.

“I want you to fuck me through this couch, make me feel you for days like you always do. Want you to…” A gasping breath cuts you off, and it takes you a moment to regain your focus, the pleasure nearly cutting off your air supply making you hiccup.

“Finish your sentence. What do you want?” He was sitting straight up, leaning so close that if you moved and inch you’d feel him. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him to touch you as badly as you wanted it right now - and that was fucking saying something.

You’d give it one more minute.

You think you can hold out for that long. One single minute of keeping yourself on the edge, one more minute to see if you can break Murdock like he breaks you every time. If you reached a minute and he wasn’t either buried between your legs or inside of you, you think you would implode.

“I- I want you to fuck me like you did when you came home last week. Leave a mark so I could feel it for days and-“

“That’s it. Keep fucking talking.” Your eyes open for a second and he’s kneeling, the hand on the top of the couch right next to your head. You hadn’t even heard him move, but now he was practically hanging over you, almost between your legs. Maybe your words effect him just like his do to you. “You sound so pretty. Keep talking for me, okay?”

“Matty, please just touch me. I need you to mmmmfuck- make me feel good.” He chokes out a desperate sound, and you shut your eyes again, no longer able to bare the sight above you if you couldn’t touch him.

“You need me?” You whine below him, nodding and making sure he knows just how bad he was right. It was a low blow, one you knew would make him even more desperate. Those simple words always got you what you wanted, no matter how long he had been playing with you. “Yeah, you fucking need me. Just need me to touch you so bad. Mark you up. Bet you’d cum as soon as I slid inside you, huh? Already so wet, I can fucking hear it.”

“Need you. Please.” You wheeze, and hear another choked sound leave his mouth. The couch shifts underneath you. Every nerve in your body was begging for him- you were begging for him, a string of pleases mixed with his name. If only either of you was less stubborn this stupid game would have been over long ago.

“You sound good like that. Begging for me. Keep going, tell me how bad you need it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want. Whate- Whatever you want. Just please. Please, please, please…” You sounded like you were having a tantrum, so close on the edge you were almost sobbing his name in ecstasy.

This was it. It probably hadn’t been a minute but you just couldn’t hold out any longer. Fuck the bet, fuck the stupid money. Nothing was worth not feeling him, having him just out of reach, you were so fucking close-

Matt’s hand brushes against your cheek, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, and his thumb wipes away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen on your cheek. It was soft; gentle.

He kisses you softly, and his hand takes over the work, replacing your own and keeping that hard, tight pace on your clit. The feeling was earth shattering - the difference between your hand and his somehow night and day, and when you kiss him back, you realise he just lost. He lost, not so he could fuck you, but so he could kiss you.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Hm?” He murmurs, the hot air of his breath fanning over your forehead as his hand works at you, and all you could do what sob his name. “Cum for me. I earnt it.”

With that, he slides himself inside of you, and everything turns white.

“Fuck - yes.” You moan out and your cumming as soon as he hits the deepest part of you. He’s suddenly everywhere - an arm under your arched back pulling you against his chest, his mouth on yours muffling your wrecked moans of pleasure, his cock buried inside of you, hitting you hard and fast and desperate; just how you feel.

He isn’t far behind you, giving you exactly what you wanted and finishing inside, so deep you’d feel him for fucking weeks after this. He was making noises you’d never heard from him before - nearly whining with how much he needed you, his whole body tense as you ran your hands over every part you could feel, while your other hand scrunched into his hair.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Is all he was saying into your mouth, fucking you - using you to get through his high while simultaneously working you through yours. His lips moved to your neck, biting and kissing you all over. It was borderline territorial, and you were a whimpering mess underneath him, pinned to the couch taking whatever he wanted to give you and praying for more.

His hips eventually began to stutter in their pace, then slow to a stop- minutes or hours after he came. Time hardly registered, just him finally surrounding you like you’ve been wanting.

“Matt. Matt-“ His mouth was still attached to your neck, and you couldn’t imagine what you looked like, but it filled you with a sort of pride. You almost wanted him to keep going, but you wanted him to kiss you more, so you tugged on the strands of hair threaded in your hands. “Matt. You-“

“I know, baby. Don’t move.” The words echo through you, the command exactly the one you said to him earlier. He slowly slips out of you, never taking his hands off your body, and in one movement curls you up and pulls you completely to his side of the couch.

Finally, you can stretch out, your muscles like jelly as your legs tangle with his. Your head leans back to rest against his chest, which is still rising and falling too fast for normal. Admittedly, so is yours, as well as the occasional twitch in your legs from the pleasure dissipating through your body. Strong arms wrap around your chest and tummy, holding you tight, and he leans his head down to kiss your cheek.

“We are never doing that again.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck, and you laugh breathlessly.

“You didn’t like it?” He groans at your question.

“Baby, I fucking loved it, but I hated not being able to touch you.” He was whining now, and your hand snaked up, scratching lightly through his hair. You think he would of purred if he could. “You’re mine. Don’t like it when you try to come without me.”

“Mmm. You were too far away.” You agreed.

“Was hot, though.” You laugh again and he switches sides to kiss your other cheek, forcing you to look to the other side, where your eyes catch on the significant stack of money.

“I won.” You whisper into his ear, smiling, and he groans again.

“Stupid game.” He grumbles, teeth scraping lightly along the top of your shoulder, making you shiver. “Still made you cum.”

“We can always have a re-match.” He was still mumbling and groaning against you about how dumb the idea was, but you can feel his grin as you laugh.

“I got a different game in mind.” He whispers into your ear, and in the next moment you are in the air, being swept up and carried towards your shared bedroom.

“And what’s that?”

“How about I show you?” He kicks the door closed behind him, and lays you down on the bed slow and sweet before making true of his promise and destroying you from the inside out, just like he always did.

[cellophaine]

Shy

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Abs riding – a hint of sub/dom dynamic, sweet talk, praise kink, cum eating.

Author's Note: I finally got around to writing this prompt that was on my list for forever! I just want to go 😖👹 on his delicious yummy abs holy crap somebody take the wheel 😵‍💫

*Everything in italic is flashback*

GIF made by me.

You knew how it went. It always started out innocent until one of you wanted something from the other. 

… damn him and his abs. 

Matt was shirtless, reclining on the spacious couch with you lying on his side, your head on his chest. He was laughing at a joke on the TV, but you couldn't register what was on since you had tuned it out a while ago, ever since you placed your hand on his midriffs. You leisurely caressed the dibs and ridges, feeling the smooth skin with little bumps of tiny scars. Your legs squeezed together to relieve the tension of something that was missing. You squirmed a little in your position; your mind wandered far away from the cozy living room, wondering if you could make yourself come on his–

"What are you thinking about?"

You blinked, lifting your head to look at him. His unsighted gaze had turned to where you were, a small grin on his lips that softened his face with all the faint wrinkles. 

"You seem distracted, and you're squirming a lot."

You put your hand on his chest, moving it in a soothing pattern to ease his concern.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you. You can go back to–"

"No no, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

His hand gently squeezed at your side, imploring you to be honest with him.

"Nothing's wrong. I just … I wonder if– you know what? It's really stupid."

You tried to sit up, but his hand stopped you. Instead, Matt pulled you closer so you would sprawl on top of his sturdy frame; his other hand gripped your chin to keep you facing him, making it impossible to hide.

"Tell me."

You took a deep breath, knowing there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"I want to … ride your … abs."

Matt didn't say anything for a moment, and you felt your stomach drop in anxiety over a stupid proposal.

"Never mind I said anything. It's–"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me sooner, sweetheart."

The smirk on his face was sinful, and you knew you were in for a day spent in bed with him. Or on the couch. Either way, you wouldn't mind.

And now, here you were, moving on top of him fervently like there was a fire you couldn't put out. Your arousal painted a sheer coat of translucent essence on his abdominals. You moved back and forth, swivelling your hips, revelling in the effortless glides of your wet folds on his smooth skin with all the pronounced definition underneath. It tied a knot in your lower belly in a foreign style, and you eagerly worked yourself up to unravel it. His hands grabbed at either side of your thighs, helping you move with ease. The grasp wasn't painful but tight like a pair of shackles, anchoring you to his heavenly body. Matt was laid back, completely in control, while you lost your mind over the strange feeling, your head thrown back with needy moans spilling out of your mouth. You repositioned yourself to move your hips just right, making your clit rub on the dibs and rise. The repeated friction drew more arousal from your core, leaking juice all over his muscles with your frantic movement. That fresh wave of pleasure hit you, causing your face to burn with the embarrassment of doing something so filthy. So debauchery. Your hips slowed as you held back your moans, and your head dipped slightly in self-consciousness. Matt's hand came up and searched for your face. He gripped your chin, pulling at your bottom lip so it would relax. 

"Don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. Get what you want from me."

As if he could sense your hesitation still, he persisted.

"Don't think about it too much. Stay with me. Can you do that for me?"

You shyly nodded, which earned you an approving smile from him. You resumed the motion, working yourself up again. Matt's hand slipped underneath your sweatshirt, covering one breast and kneading with his calloused palm. The rhythm of your breathing became short and heavy, unsteady with each glide of your sensitive bundle of nerves on his abs. His fingers teased your nipple, playing with the aching nub. You whimpered, feeling overwhelmed with your senses being toyed with under his influence.

"That's it. That's my good girl."

His praise went to your head, sending a pleasant wave of bliss to your core, encouraging you to chase that high. You moaned wantonly as Matt tweaked your nipple; his hand on your ass pulled you towards the definition of his abs, magnifying the sensation. Hearing you let yourself go seemed to affect Matt too. His chest and neck were flushed, and his lips parted as he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your arousal. His cock was so hard it ached, creating a tent in the sweatpants he wore. You moved faster on top of him, and you were close; Matt could feel it. Upon your desperate whines, he flexed his abs; his hands helped you move faster and faster. The dam broke, and you came undone with a choked cry, your hands braced on his chest to hold yourself up. You caught your breath, his hand tenderly stroking at your hips, coaxing you down from the orgasm. Your eyes fluttered, feeling hazy from the exertion. But they snapped wide open when you saw Matt gathering the wetness on his stomach and bringing the fluid to his lips. You watched as he sucked on his fingers, moaning at the taste. Even after what you just did, you still couldn't help but blush. 

Matt pulled you down with him, unabashedly searching for your lips with his own. You could taste yourself on him, and you shivered at how it turned you on. When you parted to pull air into your lungs, Matt whispered against your lips, a mischievous glint hidden in his tone. 

"We should do that more often."

You felt your face heat up and couldn't help the giggle that escaped at the suggestion. You buried your face in Matt's chest, closing your eyes as you felt the rise and fall of his ribcage and the beat of his heart underneath your cheek, steady as ever, grounding you.

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

[farfromstrange]

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 🔥 🌻 💧

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Scratches

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.2k Warning : Injuries, nothing graphics. Matt being dumb that he inflicts injuries to himself. A bit of angst I think. Synopsis : The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture. Notes : Special work for my precious @basementsoup. I hope you like this Alex! ♡ If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Matt hated it.

He hated having to admit that he still needs her. That even after months of separation, the many helping hands he found and friends he could’ve come to, he still found himself scrambling back to her apartment. He hated that in the lowest moments in life, her soothing touch and gentle words were the only thing that helped him stay afloat.

But nothing beats the hatred he felt when he finally managed to get inside. He hated how there’s a new pot of sunflowers placed by the widow. He hated how the pictures on the walls are now gone, replaced with what seems to be mirrors and other wall decorations. He hated, the most, how his scent no longer lingers in the air.

Before he could drown himself deeper into the wallowing, the sound of keys jingling and door knob twisting were heard. His heart paced for a split moment. A short period of regret washes over him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have barged in tonight.

“Matt,” She called, surprise was evident in her tone. Her heart skipped a beat and Matt wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the reasoning for it; is she glad to finally see him again or is she hating their reunion?

“I broke your pot,” He says instead “I didn’t realise you'd done some redecorating.”

“Yeah, I, uh.. I needed a change of setting.” She answers as she takes off her coat, tossing her bag to the floor once she realises his bruised face “Oh, God, not again.”

Matt tries his best to suppress the blooming smile on his face as he feels her fingers examining his face, “It’s just a light scratch.”

“You always say that,” She protests “I can find you on your deathbed, bleeding away, and you’ll still say it’s just a scratch.”

“Has it ever been more than a scratch?”

Matt knew that she must be glaring at him right now. The change in her breathing is clear for him to tell that he’s bruised her patience. But even with annoyance and vexation boiling her blood, her care and worry for him will always overshadow it.

“Come, I’ll clean your wounds.” She says as she holds his arm.

A small kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in his heart. She knew that he could navigate himself to the sofa. He only broke the pot because he wasn’t expecting any change of setting in her apartment but now that he knew, he’ll be sure to be more careful in moving around, so there’s truly no need of her to guide him this way. Yet again, why would he complain?

“What is it this time?” She asks as she went to the cabinet to get her aid kit “Fisk? Castle? Some thugs?”

“Would you believe me if I say I fell off the bed?”

She turns and eyes him with a glare.

“Alright, not the bed then,” He jests “Stairs. I fell down the stairs.”

“Not funny, Matthew.”

“What, can’t a blind man fall from the stairs?”

She lets out a sigh. Matt could sense her defeated shoulders from the way she dropped the aid kit, “You wouldn’t come here if you only fell from the stairs, Matt.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Truth is Matt has tried his hardest to stop himself from seeing her. He’s fought every urge to jump out of bed at night and come to her. Every little thing in his life pushes him to get closer to her. Like a magnetic force he couldn’t seem to escape. He wanted to ask her what tea he should get from the grocery shop. He wanted to ask her if he should wear the blue or the red tie for the court trial the next day. He wanted to ask her if he could borrow some sugar though the trip to the grocery store is far closer than having to walk to her apartment.

Anything that happens in his life, he wanted to share it with her.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Matt.”

“I know,” He nods, licking his lips as he tries to show an apologetic smile “I’m sorry.”

Matt could feel the sofa shifting when she took a seat next to him. He could smell the water from the bowl on her lap and the rest of her aid kit that are now laid on the table. This feels painfully nostalgic. To have her tend his wounds yet for the first time, he knew that he won’t be getting the one true cure he needs — her kisses.

“Are there any other bruises or wounds than the ones on your face?” She asks as she begins cleaning his skin “One of these days you’re gonna need to get yourself a real professional help. Like a personal nurse or doctor. I won’t be here forever to help you.”

“Won’t you?”

“You’re not exactly the easiest patient to tend to,” She answers with a teasing smile “I’d say the chance is pretty high.”

“But I’m your only patient. You need a comparison to say that I’m the worst of your patients.”

“No one can be this much of a pain in my ass than you, Murdock. You know that.”

Matt only smiles at her remarks. He wanted to bask in this moment. To suffocate himself with her gentle touches. To hear the beat of her heart that has become his personal ballad. To know that no matter how far the distance between them grows, she will forever be his true north.

Her movement was put to a short halt when her fingers bruised his lips. He can’t see her but he hopes that the longing in his face is mirrored on her. That she misses the feeling of their lips touching. That she misses the feeling of his lips whispering sweet nonsense in her ear. That she misses him too.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” She says instead as she abruptly stands from her seat “If you don’t have any other injury, I think you’re good to go.”

Matt forces a laugh, “What just happened?”

“I don’t know, Matt, you tell me! What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, and you couldn’t have asked Foggy or Karen to help with your wound?” She asks, her volume slightly rising in frustration “Do you even feel those wounds? Because I know you have that superhero metabolism thing and I’ve seen you get worse injuries. You can’t just come here, spend half an hour to get to the other side of the city, just to get some bandaid for your scratches.”

Her heartbeat has gone frantic now. Matt could feel the frustration, the anger, the disappointment from all the words she uttered, but the most evident thing he could hear was how much she worries for him. How much she wanted to embrace him as she once did. How much she wanted to show him the love she hoards for him, even without saying it out loud.

It had been a few painful weeks leading up to their separation. He could hardly remember the last time he’s slept a wink. There’s always someone crying for help, someone screaming in agony, wailing in pain and despair that he just had to go out there and lend a hand. And even with all of his God gifted abilities, there’s only so much he could take before he succumbed to his demons. And unfortunately, this is one of the few battles he has to admit losing.

Even up till this moment, Matt still tries to convince himself that he didn’t regret ending things between them. It needed to be done. He had to make sure that the Daredevil and his business wouldn’t come between him and her. He needed to make sure that the enemies he made along the way would never find their ways to her. He needed to make sure that when the Daredevil himself had to make penance for his sins, he wouldn’t drag her along with him to hell.

And the only way he could save her is to cut the relationship clean.

But Matt is as much of a selfish man as the next person. He couldn’t keep away from her for too long. The thought of her moving on peels his skin when it should’ve given him the satisfaction and fulfilment. The way her shampoo no longer lingers on his pillowcase gives him nightmares. The distance that he thought would be her safety net soon turns into a limbo of anxiety and worry. The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture.

“I didn’t lie when I told you I fell from the stairs,” He explains softly “I— I’ve been wanting to come and see you but I just— I don’t know how.”

Her heartbeat slows, completely focused on his words now.

“I thought about purposely messing up my laundry and calling you for help. I thought about using that wrong detergent for our— my blankets, but I know you’d never forgive me.” He confesses, a pathetic chuckle escaped his lips “I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin those blankets, to be real. They’re precious to me. We use them for our movie nights.”

“So you figured you just fell down the stairs?”

He shrugs, a small embarrassed smile curved on his face, “I had to make sure you won’t kick me out and slam the door on my face.”

“You’re an idiot, Matthew.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” She seethes, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and running a hand through her hair in frustration “You— You can’t just end things between us and suddenly barges into my apartment, begging me to clean your self-inflicted wounds. That’s not how things work, Matt. That’s— That’s cruel.”

And that’s when he feels it. The foul taste of salt from her tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. The night just keeps getting worse and worse, so it seems. It was never in his intention to make her cry though he’s got to admit that he’s done that one too many times. He only wanted to see her, to feel her touch one more time, not to cause an even greater pain to their gashing wound.

“What do you want from me, Matt?” She painfully asks, her voice cracks from the heartache “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

A bitter laughter escapes her lips, “I want you to love me, but that’s clearly not on the table, so I suppose being left by you would be the best option.”

Carefully, Matt stands from his seat and walks toward her. He reaches for her face, feeling the wetness of her cheeks under his calloused fingers. It pains him to see her this way. To know that he’s caused her more pain than happiness. All because he thought he knew better when clearly he didn't.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” He confesses “It’s because I love you that I ended things between us.”

Matt could feel the skin on her forehead scrunching, clearly from the confusion of his words.

“It was becoming unsafe for you to be with me. I made too many enemies, too many people that wanted to avenge their anger to me and it was only a matter of time before they knew about the one thing that would hurt me most and I can’t— I can’t risk that.”

“So I’m, what? A weakness?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are my weakness,” Matt says with a nod “And I couldn’t care less about having a weakness, believe me I don’t care about my soft spots, but you..” He pauses, cupping her face gently as his eyes become glossy “You.. You, I cannot ignore. Just the thought of someone, laying a hand on you, hurting just a strand of your hair.. It drives me nuts. I care more about you than anything. So if staying away from you is the only option I have, if it’s the only way I can minimise the risk of harming you..”

A tear finally rolled down his cheek. It feels liberating to finally confess all of his reasoning, to finally let her know the cause of his discourteous actions, but there’s still no solution to their problem. There’s still a huge question mark for them to tackle and he wasn’t sure if he’s ready to reach that point yet. He wanted to still feel her touch, to hear her calling his name even if they’re filled with her venomous tone.

“Matt—”

“Tell me,” He cuts in, trying to recollect himself from the turmoil “Do you want me to leave? Would it be best for me to leave you be?”

“No, no I never want you to leave.” She answers as she pulls him for a hug, burying her face to his chest and wetting his shirt with her tears “Don’t leave me, please.”

Matt welcomes the embrace in no time. He pulls her close, making her stand on her tippy toes as he lifts her. He misses this. The warm scent of her perfume, the pressure of her on his body, the feeling of her heart beating against his chest. This feels like home. She feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers to her ear “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Matt. I just need you to promise you’ll stay this time.”

He nods eagerly, pulling her impossibly close to make sure that she hears him, “I promise.”

[gracethyomen]

An Ode to Jack Murdock:

- Jack Murdock who raised Matthew Irish Catholic and built the foundations of his faith.

- Jack Murdock who never treated his son as a burden or a problem despite being left with a son to raise alone.

- Jack Murdock who not once made Matt feel weaker or inferior after he was blinded.

- Jack Murdock who spent money he didn’t have on braille books because Matt loved to read.

- Jack Murdock who never taught Matt to hate Maggie because she left them.

- Jack Murdock who, even beaten to a pulp, made sure Matt did his homework because he wanted him to do well.

- Jack Murdock who sacrificed his own comforts to clothe, feed, and educate his son.

- Jack Murdock who willingly became a well-known loser and let people beat him up to give Matt a better childhood.

- Jack Murdock who was his son’s biggest cheerleader.

- Jack Murdock who loved his son with every part of his soul.

- Jack Murdock who believed that he could better help his son if he was dead than if he was alive.

- Jack Murdock who won the fight because he knew Matt wanted to see him win.

- Jack Murdock who decided to win the fight knowing he would die.

- Jack Murdock who signed up to die because it would give Matt a better chance at life.

- Jack Murdock who never valued himself even half as much as he valued Matthew Murdock.

- Jack Murdock who made Matthew Murdock the man that became a hero.

[lesbiandardevil]

put up some prints on redbubble amongst the many stickers

big day for annoying people (me)

[bellaxgiornata]

Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Daryl Dixon Series & One Shots

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!

I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and my AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

**I do not currently accept story requests because I have too many ongoing projects at the moment!**

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff

After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE DEVIL I KNOW- M. MURDOCK

Pairing: Ex- Boyfriend! Matt x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: you and matt had broken up months ago, but somehow you end up back in his bed over and over again. he knows you better than anyone else, and you can't deny the feelings you still have towards him, so why not end up in the sheets again? 

Warnings: SMUT, praise kink, degradation kink, mocking, pussy slapping, teasing, swearing, a lill dumbification kink, smoking, mentions of choking, enemies to lovers<3

“i’m okay with history repeating- tell me i’m the one you can’t forget. back in hell at least i’m comfortable, need your body when my fires cold. hand to heart i’m gonna stay faithful to the devil i know...”- the devil i know, suki waterhouse

You hated the city. 

The atmosphere seemed to choke you here, filling your stomach with a pit of dread and anxiety. The air had an almost rotten, dirty feeling to it, something that made your skin itch as it wrapped around your skin. 

It wasn't always like this, this feeling you got whenever you traveled to Hell’s Kitchen. 

There was once a time where the familiar streets and back allies brought you a sense of comfort, where you could pick out scents like fresh bread on 5th Street instead of the fumes, or hear the birds chirp in the park instead of the car's constant honking. 

But that time was long gone, as the man who had brought the city to life had disappeared. He had been gone, for quite some time now. 

Hell’s Kitchen was Matt Murdock's home. The one place he cherished with his heart and soul, the one thing he could always rely on when things became tough. New York reflected him, and every single time your heels clicked on the sidewalk, you thought of him. 

The flowers he gave you time and time again, from the florist you adored so much. Always recommending his favorite books after reading them in braille, taking you to an antique bookstore on the corner so you could pick it out and he could hold you from behind, leaning down to kiss and nibble on your neck. 

You missed him, and the relationship the two of you had so long ago. 

But it was an end of a chapter, the feeling of the chill, crisp rainfall on your figure still haunting your memory as the two of you parted ways on that crosswalk.

 You had walked on it now head held high as you stepped across the painted lines, the people around you going on their way, to their own little life you knew nothing about. As they knew nothing of yours, how the thoughts of Matt plagued you as your head hit the pillow each night, how good he made you feel, how much you missed his touch. 

It was sickening. 

The thoughts came more and more frequent as each hour ticked by, and you were anxious to finish this business trip, once and for all. It seemed your boss hated you, always sending you to Hell’s Kitchen for tasks that were associated with Matt's law firm, instead of anyone else. 

It's because you're the best candidate, Miss. Y/L/N. Stay professional. She had said after you had confessed the tension that was so thick you could cut it with a butterknife whenever you saw Matt. 

You didn't tell her you didn't want to go because you knew you could end up in his bed again. 

Like last time. And the time before that. 

The trips were becoming less and less frequent, which you were thankful for- time spent away from the scent of Matt’s sheets, patchioni and sex, was good for you. It gave you time to “move on” whatever that meant in your sense. 

But here you were once again, fist tightening around the briefcase handle as you allowed the wave of people to walk around you as you stared up at the doorway to his office. 

You closed your eyes, taking one deep breath- then another. 

You could do this. You had to do this. 

Not just for the paycheque, but for a sense of clarity as well. So you could go to sleep at night peacefully, knowing you had faced your ex-boyfriend and didn't end up sprawled across his bed, gripping the sheets with your ass up in the air as he pounded ruthlessly into you. 

You had to get over him. 

Once the final breath had escaped you, you walked up the steps, hand twisting the door handle. The old wood creaked as you popped your head in, the front entrance empty. 

You tried to hide the relief that flared up inside you as you slipped in, shutting the door softly behind you. You knew their office was on the third floor, and due to the old building- you’d have to take the stairs. Which was fine with you of course- it gave you more time to walk through how’d you react to his presence in your mind.

 So as you took your first step on the chestnut, you mapped it all out in your head to the rhythm of your heels clicking. You’d see him, obviously. But you would look right through him. 

You’d be formal and polite, as you had no bad blood towards him, and this was a business meeting after all. He would nod, walking off to his office, expecting you to follow. And then once the door was shut, and blinds were closed- when the two of you were in private he would throw you against the wall… hand wrapping around your throat ever so slightly… 

No! God no Y/N stop. Stop, stop, stop. you yelled at yourself internally, shaking your head as if that would shake the dirty thoughts out. 

The last visit was the last time. It had to be, for your own sake. 

Before you knew it, you had reached his floor, the office plaque placed outside the front door. Nelson and Murdock, it read, the grooves of the letters smooth as you brushed your fingers across the metal. 

You were stalling, and you knew it. 

Your rings grazed against the door as you knocked, feeling sweat seep out slightly from your pores. This was a lot more nerve-racking than you remembered. The familiar feeling of butterflies filled in your stomach, accept these weren't “butterflies”. They were hungry wasps, swarming your organs and stinging them, suffocating your lungs so you could barely breathe as you waited. 

“Come in!” a sweet voice called out, unknown to you. You frowned, confused as you pushed open the door. A woman sat behind a desk, her long blonde hair draped across her one shoulder as she clacked away on her laptop.

 You took in her slightly messy desk, a few pens out of their holder, the odd paper scattered by the somewhat wilting plant. She smiled at you, blue eyes bright as you made your way over. 

“Hi! You must be Y/N!” the lady quipped, sitting up quickly to extend her hand. 

“Hi, yes, yes that's me. And you are..?” 

“Karen Page. I'm new here, Matt and Foggy’s secretary.” she exclaimed, and you shoke her hand firmly. You couldn't help but smile, she seemed to have an enticing energy to her- making you feel comfortable and warm. 

“Well it is very nice to meet you Karen.” 

Suddenly, the door from the right swung open, and a familiar face peering over at you. “It’s you!” he called, and you felt your jaw drop.

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

“How have you been?” Foggy asked, a smile permanently etched on his face as he looked at you, fingers running through the silky strands of blonde. 

“Good, good! Where’s um… where’s Matt?” you wondering, trying to make the question sound casual despite the severity behind it, your hands twisting together under the desk. 

“Oh, he's found himself in a courtroom again. He won't be joining us.” he replied, shuffling papers around as he attempted to find the files the two of you needed to discuss today. 

You couldn't help but feel the balloon pop in your chest, releasing all the air back into your lungs. 

This was good. This was so good. 

No worrying about him hearing your heartbeat skip beats when he was in the room, no watching him smirk childishly as you'd cross your legs together. Now it was just managing to get out of the city without him finding out. 

“Of course he is.” you joked, feeling the heat leave your cheeks as they returned to their normal temperature. Hands were smacked on the table, making you jump slightly as Foggy stood. 

“Well, shall we get started?” 

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

The air was chill and crisp as you walked on the sidewalk again, the cab dropping you off a few feet away. You watched as it speed back off into traffic, leaving you in the dust. 

The wind blew, making you shiver as you hugged your coat tighter around yourself, snuggling your face into your maroon scarf. You surveyed the area, taking note of the lack of people around at this hour. 

It was quiet here, whenever the clock rolled around eleven. The odd person would have a smoke in hand, longed out on the steps leading up to their building, or a curtain was being yanked shut from above. 

It was a good neighborhood, this area.You had never had any troubles with it. 

But yet, you still felt a twinge of anxiety as you walked around the corner. 

You were on Matt’s street. 

His apartment, beautifully crafted with it’s large windows and almost vintage feel was a few feet away, and you couldn't help but stop and waver. You couldn't continue on. This felt wrong, walking by but not seeing him. 

But at the same time, wasn't this the whole point of coming down here? To prove to yourself, hey, I can do this. I can walk by that stupidly beautiful, smart-assed catholic's house, and not feel the pull to go inside and curl up in his arms again. 

And yet, the idea of walking by the front steps made you feel queasy, made your stomach turn over on itself. You were stuck, a rope in a game of tug of war as you were pulled between two sides. 

Before you could make a decision, you heard your phone ring. Digging through your pockets, your chilled fingers gripped around the phone, your heart seeming to sneak up and lodge itself in your esophagus as the caller ID showed. 

Matt Murdock. Your eyes widened, and you gripped the device tighter as you were torn between answering. 

Speak of the devil. 

It was like he had crawled up into your brain, sensed you were thinking of him (again), and decided to make himself known. Before you could rationally talk yourself out of it, you answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi sweetheart.” his smooth voice sounded from the phone, silky and sweet as oozing honey. 

You felt yourself fold.

 “Matthew.To what do I owe the pleasure?” You heard him chuckle lightly, and you could visibly see the little smile blooming across his face. “A little birdy told me you were in town today.” he teased lightly, and you sighed. 

Of course, he knew. You were stupid to think he wouldn't find out. That man could find out anything. 

“Did that bird have blonde hair, the worst dad jokes I’ve ever heard and chocolate brown eyes I find myself getting lost in?” you asked, making Matt laugh. 

“Perhaps. Where are you right now, sweetheart?” 

You considered lying. Saying you were in your hotel room, deep under the sheets in your pajamas, not willing to leave the warmth of your bed. But even that wouldn't work, as your hotel was near his apartment anyways. 

“I’m um, I’m on your street.” 

Silence. 

You heard the whoosh of his breath, and you swore he could hear the increasing, steady rhythm of your heartbeat from down here. 

“The doors unlocked.” was all he said, the line going dead. 

You held the phone up to your ear still, listening to the dial tone before slowly bringing it down, your mind in a different place. It was happening again. This buzzing, static in your mind. Where your limbs seemed controlled by strings, you were a marionette as you removed yourself from the spot your roots had been planted. 

With each step your chest felt more and more hollow, and you hated yourself for going through with this. 

But he invited you.

 It was rude not to just show up, to ignore him, and go on with your night. Though he would still be there even if you left him in the dirt, because you'd be thinking of the what ifs. 

Heat blasted on your body as you entered his building, and you were thankful to escape the cold air of the night. There was no doorman to greet, so you gravitated towards the steps, making the trudge up. 

You debated stopping many times, to just sit and cry and regret every decision with this man you had ever made. 

Why did the two of you end things? Why couldn't the two of you worked it out? Why was he being so distant all the time, but suddenly needed you whenever you were in a close proximity?

 It made you feel sick, all the questions that trampled over your brain like wild horses in the wind. You pushed them to the side, ego refusing to stop and mope. The dim lights flickered softly as you made your way up to his floor, and you pushed the door open to reveal the long, intimating hallway. 

The hardwood was smooth against your heels as they clacked, the only sound in this hallowed room as you made your way toward the end goal. His door loomed over at you menacingly, as if it would come to life and swallow you whole. 

You knew your thoughts were irrational, and you knew that you felt like this every time you came over to see him again. One time, this place was an amenity to you, a safe haven where you and Matt could escape the troubles of the world together. 

Now it was just plywood bones, cement, and rust mixed with hot and heavy breaths, filled with longing and regret. 

It was filled with happy memories too, which turned into sad ones whenever you thought about them too hard, because you longed to have them back. 

Your hand twisted the door handle, the door creaking open as the front entrance came into view. All the memories hit you at once, the passion, the love, the cravings, and the aches. 

The smell of bergomace filled your nostrils, a warm and soothing aura filling your bones from the scent alone. 

You could do this. You had no choice now. 

Your bag dropped to the ground, and you slowly unbuttoned your coat to place it on the coat hooks with your scarf. Matt still hadn't said anything, even though you knew he could hear you from around the block. 

He wanted you to make the first move. Fine. If he wanted to play a game, then you'd play.

 “I’m here.” you called out meekly, stepping into the open floorplan of his home. Matt was sprawled out in the brown leather chair, his hair slightly messy, wearing the red sweater you had made him so many months ago, saying ‘I’M NOT DAREDEVIL”. 

A smirk was evident on his face, fingers drumming on the armrest as he made note of your presence. “You missed me?” he asked calmly. 

“No.” you lied smoothly, still standing and staring at him, as if he was a piece of artwork at a museum. His head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk growing as he listened more closely to your ever-growing heartbeat. 

“You’re lying, sweetheart. There's no need to lie to me.” he cooed, and you sighed, hands curling into fists so you could squeeze something as a means of comfort. 

“I’m not lying.” you insisted, lying again. Digging yourself into an even bigger hole to attempt to get yourself out of later.

 “You were always pretty bad at it. Not that that's a bad thing of course, but someone doesn't need to read your heartbeat to be able to tell.” he shrugged notionally, standing up with a sigh. 

You remained frozen in place, too scared to move from the spot you had chosen, feeling if you moved this would all flutter away like a leaf in the wind. You hated how much you still wanted him, how much you did truly miss him. You watched as he made his way over to you, warm palm cupping your cheek as he teased your bottom lip with the brush of his thumb.

 “Now I’ll ask you again angel. Did you miss me?” 

“Yes.” you breathed with no gestation as his thumb brushed again in that soothing motion, the one he always did to coax the secrets out of you, making you gasp and shiver. 

He was intoxicating, and you were drawn to him- moth to a flame. 

“I missed you too.” he confessed, as if he had been reciting it in his mind a million times over. 

“You say that to every woman you've had in here.” you whispered sharply, the thought of him treating any woman the way he treated you making you feel nauseous. 

You didn't want him touching anyone the way he had touched you. His hands were branded to your flesh, hot and fiery like the devil's as his hand stilled, holding your head in place. 

“There hasn't been any other woman in here. It’s only been you.”

 Time stopped. The clocks stopped there ticking, the air turning dry and stale as his words reverberated through your mind. 

It's only been you.  

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But you were scared too. Because if it were true, if he had waited all this time for you, had waited for you in between trips- longing for you, you wouldn’t know how to compose yourself. 

“No, no stop that. Matt, we can’t- we can’t keep doing this.” you argued, voice breaking as you gripped his sweater, the fabric soft and noble between your fingers. 

“Why? Why can't we?” he insisted, pressing you further- his voice filled with an emotion you couldn't quite describe. “Because- fuck Matthew this hurts. This hurts me. That I see you and we act like nothings wrong and I can't have you.” you empathized, octaves rising as you clawed at his chest, his grip on your chin tightening as his hand came up to stroke your hair softly. 

“Please. Please just for tonight. We can be whatever you want to be in the morning, I promise.” he begged, cradling your head with his hands, scared to let you go as you shoke your head in defeat.

 “Matthew I can’t. We can’t.” 

“Tonight. Tonight and I’ll do whatever you ask of me Y/N I’ll leave if that's what you want. I’ll leave your life and never come back, or I’ll stay. I just need you.” he whimpered, clinging to you as you were him. 

It seemed the two of you couldn't let go, a magnetic force pulling you closer to his body to warm your fire. He began to back the two of you up towards his bed, the sheets slightly messy, making you whine.

 “You want me, angel. I can smell it on you, can practically taste you. I’ve always been able to read you better than anyone else.” he sighed, breathing in your perfume. 

It was true. Your pages were open for him, spine cracked as he thumbed through the text. An open book was something you tended to be for him- never being able to hide your intentions from him.

 “I hate you.” you whispered softly, a sharp edge to your words as he smiled softly- knowing he had won you over. 

“Yeah? You hate me?” The back of your legs hit the bedframe, body slumping back against the sheets as he leaned over you. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” you moaned as he kissed you, cutting off your words clean from the source. He tasted of cherries and sweet wine, and you savored it on your tongue before he broke it. 

“Say it again.” he growled, your hands tugging in his hair, fingers running through the messy chestnut locks as he kissed you harder. It was filled with passion and hatred, a mixture of unspoken words that hadn't been said that night in the rain. 

Things you wanted to say but couldn't, things you wanted back but weren't able to piece back together again. 

It was hot and heated, breaths coming in gasps and pants as Matt's hands traced your body, fingers burning you through the light fabric of your dress. 

“I hate you Matthew Murdock. I hate you with everything- mghm- everything in me.” you moaned, words interrupted as his teeth found their way sunk into the smooth skin of your neck, your body shivering with anticipation in protest. 

“You're so well trained, aren’t you? All these nights we've spent together really paid off hmm?” he purred against your neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a mark. 

“You're insufferable.” you huffed, fingers curling around his neck, nails scratching the bottom of his scalp as you arched your back into him. 

“Look at you, using big girl words.” he cooed teasingly, making you roll your eyes before you kissed him, thigh hitching up to wrap your leg around him possessively. 

“Off.” You snarled, tugging at his shirt- the barrier preventing you from what you needed most. 

Skin-to-skin contact. Please. Because I've waited this long, and if I’m allowing myself off the leash, I want to go all the way. 

“Off, off off-” you commanded, watching with desire as he pulled away slightly, back muscles rippling as he tugged the sweater over his head.

 “Your turn.” he whispered, unleashing a squeak from your body as he gripped your thighs, yanking you closer to the edge of the bed- legs spread wide. 

You moaned as he cupped your clothed cunt, already soaking from his caresses. Arms were raised as he slipped the dress off your body in one fluid motion, the fabric was long forgotten about as it hit the floor. 

He was purely focused on you, as he always had been in these tender moments. It was like the outside world didn't matter, like both of your problems were pushed aside just for a little bit longer. 

Matt put you first. He always had, back when the two of you were together- until he didn't. 

But this was new. Each time the two of you had this secret rendezvous, it was like a new relationship blooming all over again. He was touching you again for the first time, he was whispering your name like it was brand new. It was all the excitement and passion of a new sparking flame, not a dulling ember. 

And you craved it, craved it like a drug addict needing her high and doing anything and anyone to get it. It was pure admiration, the way he brushed his fingertips across your collarbone, down your sides. 

Like he was thankful you had allowed him to sweep you back in his bed- just one more time. 

“That’s my good little girl” he cooed softly as you bucked your hips up at his delicate touches. 

“Don’t tease.” you insisted, feeling your head turn to the side, scared to look at him any longer. You feared him right now, anxious you’d allow yourself to fall again. 

But you had already fallen again. Hard. 

You didn't want to face that reality just yet. Not when he was touching you like this, making you feel like you were an angel with your wings spread wide, halo shining as bright as the sun. 

“M’not teasing. I’m enjoying.” he hummed, hands slowly rubbing the insides of your thighs, knuckles brushing the delicate skin as he’d inch closer to where you needed him most. 

“I want to enjoy you, because I know you’ll be gone before I know it.” 

You had nothing to say to this. What could you have possibly said- that wasn't a lie? It was up to fate- whatever happened in the morning, and the next few coming days after that. 

It was always like a sore, the days after the mistake. Matt's fingertips seemed to almost scorch you, tingles randomly sizzling on the layers of skin where he had touched you previously. The guilt that stayed with you was tied to your ankle like a ball and chain, chasing you into sleep for the next week or so.

 Then you’d try your best to forget him, until you appeared in his bed again. It was a continuous cycle, a habit you were almost scared to break, in case it was decided it should stop completely. 

You knew that was the right thing- the good thing for the long term. But you didn't want it to stop. You liked this, this little thrill you released. You didn't know what kind of person that made you, but frankly, you didn't care. 

You just needed to be his person. 

You whimpered, heartbeat racing as he used the pads of his finger to rub little circular motions on the wet spot that had formed on your panties, giving your cunt a quick little smack. 

“You’d do whatever I asked of you, wouldn't you?” he asked genuinely, suddenly deciding the layer that separated the two of you was still too much for him. You nodded aimlessly, feeling high off his touches alone.

 “Good. That's the girl I know.” 

He sounded like he had cut himself off, like the sentence was unfinished. There's the girl I know and love. 

“Yes.” was all you replied with, letting your legs spread further to express all of the other things you had wanted to say- but didn't know how. 

“You smell so fuckin sweet. Gonna be the death of me sweetheart.” he confessed, adjusting you to the way he wanted, manhandling you. 

“Let me kill you then.” you murmured softly, hand tracing across his bicep, wanting nothing more than to sink your teeth into the delicate beauty of the man. 

“Damn you.” he snarled, words trailing off into a moan as he entered you swiftly, causing your back to arch in unison.

 “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck you.” he groaned- as if you were the one who had played with him all these months. As if he were mad at you for feeling so good. 

“Oh- god.” was all you could let out as he wasted next to no time letting you adjust, knowing time was scarred between these walls. You never got used to the feeling of him, no matter how many times he had been between your legs. 

It was a stretch, and you couldn't help but feel filled to the brim as he made himself comfortable.

 “You’re so fucking divine.” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he slid out, thrusting into you harshly- making your body jolt in sync with your whimpers. 

His words and praises made you feel woozy, like he had drugged you with too much cough syrup from the spoon. He was in his own little world, using your body for his own pleasure- knowing he wouldn't be getting it for some time after. 

“I- hate- you-” you mewled, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing out the sounds of your cries. 

“I hate you more.” he breathed, head tilted back in pure bliss, cock brushing your spongy walls with each thrust. His hips found an easy rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your skull and your legs threatening to close together from the intense feelings of overstimulation. 

You thought back to one of the first times you had met Matt, when the relationship was just starting to bloom. You were drunk, the red wine seeping into your bloodstream as you stumbled to the couch, unable to stop laughing and smiling the whole trip down to the cushions. 

What do you tell the women you bring home? You had teased, the alcohol making your lips loose, words spilling out of them uncontrollably. 

Oh they're enjoying themselves too much, they don’t ask. He had smirked, making you laugh even harder.

 It was true though, you had realized. He hadn't been joking. 

You were far too gone with enjoyment to care about anything but him right now, the feeling of his skin on yours, his hot breath as soft as velvet in your ear as he leaned in closer. 

“We will always hate each other, sweetheart. That's what makes it so fun.” 

You clenched around him with a cry, words blending together like oil paints on a canvas as you felt the orgasm rush over your body in waves. It was like you had touched an electric fence, your body bursting with little shocks like fireworks as you came. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” he whispered, and it was then you realized. 

I hate you more. An antonym. 

He still loved you.

 “My pretty little thing.” you smiled softly, voice hoarse as you cupped his cheek. His skin was warm and soft against your palm, cheeks stained pink as his hips faltered. 

It was over before you knew it- that gentle, soft moment the two of you had just shared, where you were his and he was yours had shattered. It was gone, as fast as your hand had been removed from his cheek. 

The wall was put up again, any act of vulnerability was shooed off the stage. Matt had slipped from your fingers, nothing but sweat and gentle pants reverberating off the walls, getting tangled up in the ceiling fan. 

You watched as he removed himself from you slowly, a sly grin on his face as he realized his cum had started to slowly ooze out of you.

 “I’ll be out of here in a few.” was all you said, watching him walk off to the bathroom in silence. You heard the tap start, water trickling out of the faucet, Matt refusing to respond. 

You fought back the tears, knowing the painful cycle was about to start all over again. Before you could rise, he emerged once more, a damp washcloth in hand. 

“No need.” he replied, making his way back over to you slowly. You flinched slightly as the bed creaked, the sudden proximity seeming weird and out of context despite the fact he was up in your guts less than five minutes prior.

 “May I?” he asked, hinting for you to spread your legs again. You spread them slightly, shivering as the cloth touched you, a droplet of water sliding down your inner thigh and onto the sheets below. 

“Are you sure? I can stay, you mean?” you asked, watching his hands carefully clean you up, knowing exactly how to soothe your body from the adrenaline it had just taken buckets of. 

“I left a pack of Marlboro’s in the bedside table.” 

You bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to put your head in your hands and sigh. The cycle was breaking, a little gap emerging from the guilt. He wanted you to stay. He had bought your favorite cigarettes, the ones you had always smoked for ‘special occasions’ in hopes you’d come back again- and stay.

 The thought made your stomach turn, whether that was from nausea or butterflies. 

You couldn't do this again. 

You couldn't pretend to feel this way, like you weren't affected by these hooks up. You needed something continuous, something that was repetitive and that meant something. Something that meant more than just touches and kisses, regrets and mistakes. 

You watched as he stood up, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

You sighed. And you did end up putting your head in your hands, and no- it did not make you feel better. 

It did not change any of this, take any of this away. Your fingers itched towards the handle, and you finally caved and pulled the drawer open. Snatching the box and the lighter that was left there, you placed the cigarette between your lips, the lighter flickering softly as you saw the smoke start to rise. 

Matt had made his way back over to the bed, the bright city lights illuminating across his figure, dancing across his sculpted torso with excitement. He looked like a painting, an abstract that didn't make sense at first glance, until you truly studied it hard enough. 

You had studied him though, and you had somehow pieced the puzzle together to make sense. It had been knocked from the table, its pieces breaking apart for a few brief months- but you had the courage to pick them up and start over again. 

It would result in the same beautiful picture, afterall. 

“Matt?” 

His head turned towards you and you blew a cloud of smoke into the air, feeling your muscles relax into the soft bedding that smelt of him. 

“I hate you.” 

He just smiled, shaking his head softly. “I know.”

[bewitchedme-body-and-soul]

all sides of you

a/n: this came to me late at night and i had to write it; shout out to @humanalien01 for helping me and supporting my simping. idk how i feel abt the ending tbh :/

summary: a night at josies bar leads to you admitting your thoughts about the devil of hell's kitchen, and a few months later your words come back to haunt you.

word count:2427

warnings: swearing, canon typical violence, reader is victim in an attempted mugging & fights back, cursing, reader is called a bitch

Standing around the pool table at Josie's bar with the Nelson and Murdock team, playful banter spewn between the four of you. Each of you taking turns shooting while also trying to make the others mess up. The laughter coming from the four of you carrying throughout the bar, the three deserved this after a hard case, and you being Matt's partner were happily invited. Foggy happily uses you as a means to try to embarrass Matt with silly stories from their college years. You and Karen, doubling over in laughter as Foggy finishes his current story, Matt's cheeks tinted pink. Upon noticing you move closer to him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek, then resting your head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your middle. 

It's not until Foggy scoffs begrudgingly that your attention and Matts is pulled away to look at what Foggy's upset about. On one of the Tvs hanging around the bar you notice a news story about The Devil Of Hell's Kitchen. Foggy going on a rant about how he thought the man was bad news while you stared at the grainy footage someone caught of the man decked out in all black, as he beat up a group of gang members. You slowly zoned out as you watched how the man in the mask’s body contorted as he flipped and took the bad men out.

“Y/n!” Foggy's voice pulled you out of your daydream, your head snapping to look in his direction, giving him a hum in acknowledgement. “What do you think? What's your opinion on the masked man?” he asks, you know he's hoping you'll take his side.

Your cheeks tint a slight pink at the question, aware of the two pairs of eyes locked on you and Matt's head tilting, obviously also looking forward to your answer.  “Um, i don't really have one” you lie, moving to lean over the pool table and shoot one of the balls. Karen's giggle goes in tandem with the clack of the cue ball hitting one of the stripped balls.

“You're lying!” Foggy calls out pointing an accusatory finger at you, “did you know lying is a sin? I can't believe you would do such a thing while dating our good Catholic Matt Murdock” he gasps a hand over his heart like you wounded him deeply with your tiny fib. The smile on Matt’s face tells you he did not care and he finds Foggy's dramatics hilarious.

“Oh no, however will you forgive me, my love?” you gasp dramatically leaning against Matt. “But seriously my opinion on the man in the mask isn't that important.” you say trying to move on.

Karen laughs before speaking “oh, trust me, too foggy it is very important, and honestly now I’m interested cause it's been just me vs foggy about this since Matt tries to stay out of these conversations” after she's done speaking the attention turns back to you. You sigh as Matt moves to take his turn, now seeing you have no way out of this conversation.

“I don't know, I don't think he has bad intentions or anything” you shrug before continuing “He’s also kinda hot” you say the second part quieter. The other three members of your party all have varying reactions, Karen laughing, Matt giving an awkward chuckle, and Foggy with his over the top dramatics acting as if you’ve insulted his mother. You watch Matt out of the corner of your eye worrying you may have upset him, you’d only been dating a month and a half, the relationship still new, you're still learning things about the other. What if you hurt him?

Foggy's voice pulls you out of your anxiety fueled downward spiral. “I can't believe you would do this to me” he speaks with a voice obviously trying to make you feel bad for not agreeing with him. He puts his head in his hand as he begins to fake cry. You and Karen look at each other before you both double over laughing, Matt joining in as Foggy's fake cries ramp up at your laughing.

You spend another few hours at Josies before you all decide to part ways, you going home with Matt after deciding to spend the night. Once you're in his apartment your anxiety returns from the prior conversation. You both make your way to his bedroom and change into clothes you can sleep in. It's only when you're both in bed, your head on his chest as he rubs your back, that you decide to broach the subject. “Hey Matty, can I ask you a question?” he hums in response. “Earlier at Josies, did I upset you?” you question, heart rate picking up slightly.

Matt feels your heart rate pick up so he quickly leans forward to kiss your forehead before he smiles at you with a soft chuckle, “no, not at all, I trust you, it’s no different than the people who have a crush on the avengers.” you sigh at his words. Anxiety subsiding, you know Matt well enough he wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. You nestle closer to him before grabbing his other hand and kissing his knuckles, ignoring the cracks and healed over abrasions. “Besides, I know I’m your favorite” he says and you don't need to look at him to know he's wearing that cocky grin of his. 

You roll your eyes at him “i suppose” You tease him, no matter who came to you and professed their love, you knew you’d always choose Matt. You feel his chest vibrate under your cheek as he laughs. Eventually the two of you fall asleep in eachothers arms.

~~~

A month passes and you forget the aforementioned conversation ever happened. So many things happening that small moments get buried and forgotten about so easily. It's not till you're walking home one night that the conversation gets catapulted back to the forefront of your mind.

On your way home from a girl date with Karen you get yanked into an alley and thrown against one of the brick walls of a building. The bricks sharp and your head immediately begins to throb as your head smacks against it. A hand goes over your mouth and fight or flight takes over as you feel your heart rate pick up and the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. You struggle before biting down with all your might on the hand, the taste of copper coats your tongue. The man who grabbed you yanks his hand back and you spit the blood out onto his face before screaming, hoping you’d be lucky enough for someone to be close enough to hear you. You knew basic self defense but you’d rather be safe and hope someone would at least call emergency services. 

“You bitch” the man yells before slapping you across the face. You bring your knee up in an attempt to connect it with his groin. His hand shoots down, your knee still connects but not with as much force as you hoped. As you attempt to shove him off you hear a thud to the side of you and you can only hope that it’s some good samaritan here to save you. It's only a few seconds later your attacker is yanked off of you and thrown to the ground.

You watch with bated breath as the man in the mask repeatedly punches the guy in the face and head. Once he finishes he makes his way over to you, you can hear him speaking to you, asking if you're alright, but you're distracted by the shape of his jaw and the way his lips move. A sense of familiarity washes over you and you're unsure as to why.

“I’m fine, thank you, I just need to get home.” You quickly rush out before speed walking away. Wanting to be in the safety of yours and Matt's home as quickly as possible, and wanting to scrub your mouth to rid it of the copper taste. A part of you hoping Matt is home so you can just crash into his arms and sleep.

You arrive home to an empty apartment, the billboard on the building across the alley lighting up the living room. You drop your jacket and bag on the counter before moving to the bathroom and brushing your teeth for far longer than the usual two minutes. Afterwards moving to your shared bedroom and changing into the clothes you'd be sleeping in. 

As you're changing you spot a picture of you and Matt on top of your dresser. You pause, taking a moment to admire your partner, that's when it hits you. The sense of familiarity, why the bottom half of the devil of hell's kitchen face looked so familiar. You'd kissed those lips hundreds of times, it's no wonder your body recognized them. Everything begins falling into place in your head, like placing the last puzzle pieces in a puzzle and seeing the finale picture.

Matt's injuries always lined up with when you'd see the man in the mask on the new fighting bad guys. How a part of you always believed there was more to the story than him just falling or whatever excuse he’d give you. He was always so careful, far too careful to just take a tumble as often as he’d tell everyone. You never called him out cause even if a part of you believed he was lying you trusted him enough that you never questioned. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Matt's voice calling out for you. 

“In the bedroom!” you call back, wondering if he’ll tell you or if you'd have to call him out and question him. You hear him approach and turn to look at him, he looks relatively unharmed, ‘that's good’ you think. “Hey baby.” you can't help the small smile that graces your features, he moves closer to where your voice came from, reaching a hand out towards you. Once he reaches you he wraps his arms around you pressing a kiss against the top of your head. You hear and feel him take a deep breath, you wouldn't be surprised if he was also a little shaken up, he’d just saved his partner from being mugged, you wouldn’t blame him if he was. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you decide you can't take it anymore.

“Baby?” you begin, he hums in response. You take a deep breath before you continue, turning in his arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. “When were you gonna tell me?”  you question, you figure it's best to just rip the bandaid off.

“Tell you what sweetheart?” he questions tilting his head, eyebrows furrowing. He looked like a puppy, confused by the trick its owner is trying to teach it. You understand why he’d try and play this off but you also wish he’d just be honest. Your face morphs into a deadpan expression.

“Matty, seriously, you know what I’m talking about.” You cross your arms over your chest. “When were you going to tell me youre daredevil?” you question. He huffs out a small laugh.

“What? Honey what are you talking about? I’m not the daredevil.” he lies through his teeth.

“I know you can’t see my face but just know it's a look of disappointment cause you should really be better at lying if you're gonna be a vigilante.” you speak before moving just out of matts reach. Deciding he could touch you again when he confessed. A defeated sigh leaves him, you assume he's come to the conclusion that there’s no way of getting out of this without being honest. 

“I don't know, honestly.” he begins “I always wanted to tell you, I hated lying to you, especially after seeing how worried you’d get.” he takes his glasses off sitting them on your dresser. “I was waiting for the right moment I guess. I was worried how you’d react, I didn’t want to lose you.” he finishes looking in your direction. He looks like a puppy that just got scolded and was trying to look cute to get out of punishment.

“First of all, low blow, you know your puppy eyes work way too well on me” you speak trying not to giggle. “Second, Matt I’m literally so in love with you, it’d take a lot more than you running around at night in a mask beating up criminals to lose me.” Now the laugh escapes you, a smile making its way to his face as well at your laugh. He moves closer to you again, hands landing on your waist, before he leans in to kiss you.

“You handled this a lot better than Foggy did,” he laughs. “Also, if you were wondering, yes, i am actually blind” 

“I wasn’t, but good to know.” you laugh “and to be fair, foggy did hate your alter ego.” you lean up to kiss his cheek, “lets go to bed baby” you whisper before crawling into your shared bed as he moves to change into pajamas. Once he joins you in the bed you snuggle into his arms, resting your head over his heart. Thinking over everything as you trace shapes against his chest, it’s then you sit up quickly realizing something. “You little shit!” you yell with a laugh as you playfully hit him in the chest. 

“What? What’d I do?” he asks shock and confusion taking his features

“A few months ago, at Josies with Foggy and Karen” you begin, you can tell by the look his face morphs to that he's beginning to understand. His cocky smile finding his face again. “I confessed that I thought the daredevil was hot and you just let me?” you ask incredulously “no wonder you were so unphased by it” you playfully shove his shoulder

“Would it help if I said I found it very flattering that you did?” he laughed “but seriously, that was when I started seriously thinking about telling you. It made me feel a little bit better about it.” he speaks, moving his hand to rub against your knee.

“Maybe, it does a little,” you confess. “You're still a little shit though.” you laugh moving to kiss him. “My little shit though” you whisper. The rest of the night is spent full of soft touches and laughter as the two of you bask in your love of the other.

[ittybluebell]

Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Next

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

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[graves-doodles]

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