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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

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🍑 Matt + a friend confessing her love for him?

ohhhhhhohohohohoh okay

I’m going college!matt for this one cuz that is the ✨VIBE✨

you oughta know - matt murdock x fem!reader

✨kay’s 300 follower celebration✨

he’s frustrating, is what he is.

frustratingly handsome, frustratingly kind, frustratingly easy to get along with. frustratingly frustrating.

you’ve never been so frustrated in your life.

and he knows exactly what he’s doing, you just know it. you’ve been studying for hours, bent over your ancient laptop, glasses sliding down your nose every chance they get, and there’s matt, apparently fine to lean back in his chair and relax instead of freaking out and poring over his notes like you are.

it’s nearly midnight, and the two of you have been in the library since well before the sun was still up, foggy having abandoned you earlier to go chase marci around the campus bar. he’d all but begged matt to go with him, but matt was adamant, intent to stay in his chair at your table until you were ready to go. “it’s the chivalrous thing to do, fog,” he’d said. “not about to let her walk home in the dark, c’mon.”

foggy had offered you a quirked eyebrow, grabbed his coat, and shouted his goodbyes, earning glares from every other table in the library. you’d both giggled like crazy, a short reprieve from the brain-numbing reviews you were running through.

you’d met matt on the first day of second year, having transferred to columbia for a scholarship. foggy had been a half-step behind, crowing at matt that, “how is it, man, that you’re blind, and yet you always find the prettiest girls to hit on?”

you’d blushed, matt had chuckled, and the rest was history.

it’s not…flirting, per se, but it’s…banter. you have a good rapport going, one that translates well into the few classes you share, even earning you bonus points on your mock trial for ‘partner chemistry’. matt’s just easy to talk to, fun to look at, and he’s genuinely a good person. it’s a triple threat, and honestly, you didn’t stand a chance.

and he knows it.

grades-wise, it’s like a battle royale between the three of you. your law marks are almost neck and neck, matt at the top of the pyramid, you floating somewhere in the middle, and foggy with a solid (and still wildly impressive) bottom tier. but you and matt took spanish together, and son of a bitch if you aren’t this close to failing.

slamming your textbook closed and shoving it away, you heave a breath, ignoring the few dirty looks that are thrown your way. it’s too late for this. “I’m gonna fail,” you declare, pushing a hand through your hair and starting to gather your things. “might as well just accept it. I’m gonna fail spanish.”

“you’re not gonna fail spanish,” matt retorts, still leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on the one beside him, arms crossed over his chest. his glasses are pushed up his forehead and his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering slightly. how can someone look so good just…sitting there? “c’mon, you’ve been staring at this stupid book too long. you need a break.”

you slump onto the desk, pushing your face into your crossed arms. “the exam is tomorrow. I’m gonna fail, murdock. it’s inevitable.”

“the only thing inevitable,” he starts, head turned in your direction, glasses slipping back down into place on his nose. it’s hopelessly endearing and your chest is aching, “is you coming back to the dorm with me and drinking something other than chai tea.”

you go to reach for your book, to flip it open again, but he grabs your wrist, fingers curling around your pulse. “don’t hate on my tea.”

“no hate,” he laughs, squeezing your wrist, “but you’re coming. let’s go. rapido!”

“fine,” you concede. “but I really don’t want to listen to fog and marci have sex in the bathroom again.”

“which is why we then go to your place if they come home,” he says brightly.

you roll your eyes, knowing full well he can’t see it, and start to shove your books into your bag, shutting down your laptop and stowing it too. matt has less to pack, and waits expectantly, unfolding his cane and taking your elbow when you nudge him gently and offer it.

it’s a quick walk across the campus to the dorm matt and foggy share. maybe it’s strange, but you’ve always liked walking with matt, his big hand tucked into the crook of your arm, his bicep firm against your shoulder, leading him through campus between classes. he claims to like your pace better than foggy’s, and you’ve sat on the almost-compliment since he said it, tugging at your heartstrings every time he asks you to go somewhere on (or off) campus with him.

their dorm is a mess. well, more specifically, foggy’s side of the room is basically a trash can, takeout containers and beer bottles littered across every available surface, while matt’s side is much tidier, his bed forever unmade but his desk orderly and his closet even more so.

you’re always quick to perch on matt’s bed, unmade or not (his silk sheets are so much nicer than the dorm standard), and you find your place at the foot while he crosses to the makeshift bar cart him and fog have set up, an old desk they stole from the empty dorm across the hall and a stack of red solo cups from your last rager.

“I’ve only got that orange-flavoured scotch foggy bought,” he calls to you, fingers running over the different-shaped bottles, “or blackberry gin.”

“what is with foggy and fruit-flavoured alcohol?” you reply, making a face. “gin please.”

he hands you a cup a moment later, and you waste no time, tossing the whole thing back in one go. you let out a squeak as it settles through you, reaching over to put the empty cup on matt’s nightstand. once you’re upright again, he takes a spot beside you, sipping his own drink, the mattress dipping with his weight and pushing the two of you closer together.

“hey,” he says after a moment, “you really shouldn’t worry about spanish.” when you start to protest, he holds up a hand. “I mean it. you’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, all right? you’re gonna do great.” he gives you a bright smile, reaching over and taking your hand, squeezing it lightly.

in return, you groan loudly, flopping back on his bed. “god, why do you do that?” you almost shout, blaming your volume on the alcohol now quickly making a home in your bloodstream. “you know exactly what you do to me, don’t you, murdock?”

he plants a hand behind himself and turns to face you. “do what?”

“tell me I’m smart or stay at the library so I don’t walk home by myself or, or…”

you both speak at the same time.

he says: “or be your friend?”

and you say: “or make me fall in love with you!”

oh.

you stand up so abruptly it’s a miracle you don’t shove matt off the bed. your fight or flight instinct just kicked in and everything is screaming flight! get the fuck out of here asap! so you’re running around the room, trying to find where you left your shoes and your bag and your jacket and where the hell is your phone and oh my god, did you actually just say that?

and then he calls your name, and you freeze.

“I could say the same thing to you, you know,” he says, his voice low as he finishes his drink and stands from the bed. he pulls his glasses off, sets them on the nightstand, and takes a slow step towards you, then another. you put a hand out when he’s close enough, and his palm flattens against yours, fingers curling around your wrist like they had in the library, a foot of space between you still

“why do you always call me out on my bullshit or call me murdock or do that stupidly adorable thing in class where you nudge me every time they change the slide? or how you always walk with me and make me feel like I’m a regular person, and that day, when you told me it was snowing, and you described it to me like you were writing a damn poem. you made me fall in love with you too, okay?”

he pulls on your arm, and you stumble across the carpet, straight into his arms. he catches you easily, and your hands grasp his shoulders, feeling the muscle jump in your touch. he’s fit as hell, and you’ve noticed.

his eyes are on you, and you can feel it. it’s the strangest thing, knowing he can’t actually see you, but his gaze is flitting over your face like he can, his dark eyes only made darker by the dim light, but you can still see the honey-streaked brown you’ve come to know and love.

matt’s mouth cracks into a grin and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

you just nod.

it’s chaste, at first. it’s his fingers tangled in your hair and yours curling into the hem of his t-shirt. it’s soft lips and stolen breaths and a whispered I’m so in love with you that’s so quiet you think you might imagine it, but then he says it again and your whole being starts to tingle. his skin is so soft under your fingers, letting the pads of your thumbs slide under his shirt, feeling the dip of his hip and the curve of his waist. desperate kisses, wanting kisses, gently tugged lips and the soft swipe of tongues.

it’s chaste, and then it’s not.

he pulls you closer, the space between you disappearing, and then starts moving backwards towards the bed. matt goes first, sinking onto the mattress, and he’s pulling you into his lap before you can protest, hands hooking behind your knees and then moving up to grab your ass, squeezing once. it makes you gasp, the sound pouring into his mouth from yours, and he grins, hauling you closer, rolling his hips up into yours in a way that lets you feel just how excited he is.

there’s a bit of adjusting, some sliding on the silk sheets, and at one point, you’re straddling his thick thigh, the muscle hard between your legs, and matt tries to pull you up, but only manages to drag you across his jeans. between the seam of your leggings and the feeling of his thigh, there’s no way you can bite back that moan, eyes squeezing shut as it falls out of you.

“what?” matt asks, and you can hear the grin in his voice, mouth close to your ear as he drags his lips along your cheek. “did you like that?”

“it felt good,” you admit, grabbing his face blindly, pulling his mouth to yours for another searing kiss, this one much less chaste than the first. matt plants his foot, lifting his thigh against you, and you sigh heavily into his mouth. “fuck. really good.”

matt pulls your hips down hard, dragging you in just the right way, and you moan again, feeling that white-hot zip of electricity worm its way up your spine with every move. “you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers.

he keeps kissing you, releasing your hips only long enough to drag your shirt up your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor. you move more than willingly where he wants you, shuffling back at one point to peel your leggings off, giving him space to yank his t-shirt off and kick off his jeans.

it’s a trip, sliding into his sheets with no barrier between him and you. sure, there’s been a few drunken nights when you crashed in his bed and woken up the next morning with his arm wrapped around your middle, but you’d always been fully clothed.

this is entirely different.

he puts his hand between your legs, fingers seeking out your warmth, and you guide him, gripping his wrist in both hands, murmuring yes, matt and oh, right there until he starts kissing the words out of your mouth.

there’s a bit of fumbling, an awkward reach into the nightstand for a condom, the shuffle of underwear around ankles getting caught in the sheets. but then he’s hovering above you, one elbow planted beside your head, other hand angling himself correctly. “ready?” he asks, and you breathe out a yes.

he knows exactly what he’s doing.

he manages to find the perfect pace, curving a hand around your thigh to push your leg wide, his hips bearing down on yours with every thrust, but you love it. he finds places inside you you weren’t aware even existed, filling your body with pleasure you’ve only dreamed about. you keep your hands on his face, his stubbly jaw in your chin, watching the feelings cascade through his features.

“matt,” you moan when he finds that spot, giving it the attention it requires, leaving you a squirming mess beneath him.

“tell me, baby,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck. “I wanna hear it.”

“I’m gonna—” your words choke off in a moan, tossing your head back on the pillow, matt’s mouth closing around your throat.

“good girl,” he whispers, hips still snapping into yours. “that’s a good fucking gir—”

then the door bursts open, light from the hallway flooding in, and you both freeze. foggy stands in the doorway, a very surprised marci at his shoulder, and before you can even react to fog’s sputtered “oh fuck, oh my god, oh shit, wait, you’re—”, matt’s grabbing the pillow beside your head and launching it at the door. foggy yanks it shut in time to miss the projectile, and you burst into giggles.

matt joins in for a moment, that handsome smile on his face, but you watch as it goes almost serious. his pace resumes, unrelenting and moan-inducing. you’re a mess, and you don’t care who knows it. he starts to curse under his breath, curving a hand around the side of your face, thumb riding the line of your jaw. “you have no idea how good you feel.”

you whine his name again, taking the messy kiss he offers. you’re halfway there again already, and it only doubles when he lifts your thigh, hooking your knee over his shoulder, and goes deep. he must feel you clench, because he gasps loudly, a groan cracking through his throat, the sound desperate and delicious. a few more stutters of his hips, and then he’s pushing his face into your neck again, teeth clamping hard on your pulse, a muffled moan reaching your ears.

he slumps against you, the two of you a sweaty pile of limbs between his silk sheets, and you sigh, more happily than you have in a while. you put a hand in his hair, pushing the damp strands away from his face, and he hums.

“hey, matt?”

“mm?”

“how do you say, that was really hot in spanish?”

a beat, and then, “you really are gonna fail, aren’t you?”

—————

murdock tags: @saintmurd0ck @lazyxsquirrel @mindidjarin @freshabogados @steadyasthe-flowers @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10 @plutoneu @grounderprincesslookspissed @hellskitchenswhore @hoewkeyesblue @simple-lovebot

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