#MATT MURDOCK WITH BRICK

[bossybigeyes]

he is HERE and I am EMOTIONAL

[agentscamander-romanoff]

I think that the most hillarious way for Spider-man to discover Daredevil's identity is just throw at him a brick.

Spider-man:hey,DD *throws a brick*

Daredevil:*catches a brick:ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?WHAT THE-

Spider-man:You are Matt Murdock.

Daredevil:What?

Spider-man:You are Matt Murdock

Daredevil:That doesn't-

Spider-man:You.Are.Matt.Murdock.

[pastafossa]

I.

HAVE UPDATED

MY DAREDEVIL SHRINE.

WITH NEW ART.

BEHOLD.

Now featuring additional art by @enstatia, one of @bunnelbie's TRT pieces, and Matt as a Martyr by @mellifera38!

[softasawhisper]

thought our boy was hitting the whip for a second there

[breadwithoutcheesefan1009]

we’re all sleeping on the fact that the brick Matt caught was straight on target for Peters face. like, whoever threw that brick had hella good aim. scary good aim, superhuman, even.

[wonderlandmind4]

Not @pastafossa YELLING AT ME IN PANIC to go buy THIS GLORIOUS PIECE OF FUNKO

When I tell you within seconds that I bought this. SECONDS.

LOOK AT THE DETAIL. THE LITTLE SWISH OF HIS COAT AND TIE THE FIVE O’CLOCK SHADOW BEARD THE LEAN

[bellaxgiornata]

Catcalling the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: drunk Reader, humor, terrible flirtatious comments, and lots of appreciation for the Ass of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: A night out takes an amusing turn when you accidentally and drunkenly catcall the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

a/n: This little one shot is brought to you thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team who not only inspired the idea, but helped create some of the flirtatious banter. I just couldn't resist the idea of catcalling the Devil in the black suit, okay? Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Pushing open the door of Alchemy, you stepped outside and onto the sidewalk. The sweltering heat of Hell’s Kitchen greeted you, the humidity mixing with the sticky sweat already coating your skin and adding another uncomfortable layer of dampness. But it still felt far more refreshing outside in the humid evening air than it did inside the busy bar with countless other sweaty bodies packed together. The usual buzz of the city at night was even welcoming in comparison to the loud music that had been steadily aggravating the pounding in your head for the past twenty minutes. 

Walking unsteadily in your heels, you turned to the right and made your way over towards the corner of the building and away from Alchemy's main doors and thumping music. One of your hands reached up as you stumble-walked, grabbing at the neck of your dress and peeling it off of your wet skin to allow some air to flow inside and cool your heated body. You’d spent a good portion of your evening drunkenly dancing with your friends as you celebrated Elise’s birthday tonight, which was why you'd decided to wait for your Uber outside of the bar–so you could catch your breath before heading home. 

As you neared the alley, your ankle unexpectedly twisted when your heel caught in a crack along the sidewalk. A surprised gasp slipped past your lips as you began falling forward face-first towards the pavement. Your hand released the neck of your dress and instinctively flew out to your side, your palm landing against the brick of the building just in time to awkwardly catch yourself. Struggling to steady your inebriated self, you stayed bent in half as the pavement swirled beneath your black heels. 

Once the spinning had finally stopped, you threw your other hand out and began to desperately claw your way back upright with both hands along the brick. Limping forward, you leant up against the side of the bar and tried to ease the pressure off your now sore ankle. With a low groan you attempted to find a comfortable position against the brick, supporting your weight more fully along the wall and resigning yourself to waiting right here for your Uber. Internally you cursed yourself for wearing such tall heels and drinking as much as you had tonight–hopefully you hadn’t actually injured your ankle. You’d probably be regretting your decisions in the morning, especially since you still had to go into work. 

Reaching up, you ran the back of your hand across your forehead in an attempt to remove some of the sweat that had accumulated there. But just as you’d begun to lower your hand back to your side, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Your head turned in the direction of it, your vision spinning momentarily before everything came back into focus. Though the second your brain managed to make sense of the black blur on the rooftop, your mouth fell open. Because there on the roof just above you was the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

“There’s no way I’m this drunk,” you muttered to yourself. 

You watched as the dark figure crouched down low on the corner of the building, his body hunched like a gargoyle overlooking the street below. He was only a few floors above you and seemingly searching for something with the way his head was scanning the street below as it moved back and forth in sharp movements. With his back turned towards you while he was lowered in a crouch, you had been left with a perfect view of his backside under the city lights. Whether it was due to how absolutely glorious the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s ass looked in his black pants while you were almost directly beneath him, or due to the handful of shots and cocktails you’d recently drank down, you’d suddenly loosed a long, low whistle out into the night.

Immediately the Devil’s head snapped over his shoulder the second you’d whistled. Eyes growing wide in shock, your body straightened against the wall behind you instantly. You hadn’t even realized you’d just catcalled the Devil until you’d actually done it. And now he was crouched atop the roof and staring right down at you.

For a long time you stood there locking eyes with the masked man–or so you assumed, considering you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the black on his face. Neither of you moved,  neither of you spoke, yet a tension had quickly formed in the air. 

Until a peel of laughter bubbled right up out of your mouth.

The Devil’s head tilted sharply to the side as the sound echoed through the alley beside you. You threw a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noise, but somehow that only made you laugh harder. Because no one would believe you about this later. But your laughter fell short when the Devil rose to his full height on the rooftop, spinning around to face you with a fluid grace that had made your head spin in return. Biting down on your lip, you fought back another round of laughter as tears began to form in your eyes. You’d only managed to reduce your amusement at the situation to barely restrained giggles before he spoke.

“Something wrong?” the deep voice called out.

You shook your head quickly, the Devil briefly blurring into three Devils above you. Throwing your hand up into the air, you sent him a single thumb’s up. “No!” you answered, stifling another giggle. “Everything’s fine, Devil. Just–just appreciating the view.”

His head cocked to the side even further, the sight reminding you of a dog. Another giggle slipped out of you before you could stop it. Though you once more bit down on your lip when the vigilante began to expertly climb his way down the side of the building. Openly admiring his body as you readjusted your position against the wall–which was currently still single-handedly keeping you upright at the moment–you watched as he easily made his way from the roof to the alley. If it hadn’t been for the curious, pleased smile that was clearly spread across his lips when he came to stand just a few feet away, you might’ve felt nervous that he’d suddenly taken as much of an interest in you as you had in him. 

“Appreciating the view?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Your ass.”

The Devil’s lips twitched at your bold honesty and you bit back another giggle. This whole situation was so unbelievable it was actually absurdly hilarious.

“So you’re saying that you interrupted me solely just to whistle at my ass?” the Devil inquired. “Did I hear that right?”

Pushing away from the wall, you stumbled forward a step, squaring your shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes–or where you thought they were. “Yeah. Couldn’t exactly resist,” you answered, your words slurring a bit as you spoke. “You’re carryin’ an entire bakery’s worth of devil’s food cake back there.”

You wildly waved a hand towards the Devil’s lower half, sloppily gesturing towards his ass. His head once more tilted curiously to the side, the grin on his lips growing even wider in clear amusement. 

“Devil’s food cake?” he questioned.

“Y’know,” you said, waggling your eyebrows suggestively at him. “‘Cause of all that–that cake you got back there. Wouldn’t mind a piece, personally.”

A huff of laughter slipped past the Devil’s lips and you brightened at the sound as it registered in your intoxicated ears. His positive reaction was only going to encourage you now.

“Are you… flirting��with me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you do realize who I am, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst guy I’ve hit on tonight,” you replied with a shrug.

The Devil laughed, shaking his head as his attention dropped down towards his boots. A grin lingered along his lips, something almost bashful. But your focus openly shifted back down to the profile of his ass, your eyes appreciating the way the dark fabric stretched over him. 

“Y’know it’s my friend’s birthday tonight,” you told him, swaying unsteadily on the sidewalk. “Didn’t realize you were the one bringin’ the cake.”

A snort of laughter met your comment, your smile growing wide as you watched the Devil’s head rise back up. He was smirking now, something mischievous in the way his mouth had twisted beneath the hard line of his mask. 

Grinning back at him, your right hand cupped around your mouth as you leaned forward towards him. “But maybe you can let me blow out the candle,” you drunkenly half-whispered.

He shook his head at you, but the mischievous twist of his lips remained beneath the black fabric of his mask. “You're a bold drunk, aren't you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you mumbled back, your eyes fixing along his lips. Without even thinking, you blurted next, “Wouldn’t mind climbing you like a building.”

Another surprised snort of amusement fell out of him as he shook his head at you once more. “You’re full of so many terrible lines,” he teased back with a chuckle. “You do realize that, right?”

“Oh I’ve got plenty more,” you assured him with a nod, exaggeratingly waving a dismissive hand in the air between you both. “Don’t you worry. Could totally do this all night.”

“Oh really?” he asked. “Is that right? Because I certainly can make time for this.”

Your hand stopped flapping in the air between you both, a single finger raising up. “Okay, wait,” you amended. “I have an Uber coming. So maybe not all night, but probably a few more minutes.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, his smile briefly slipping. “Shame because this is turning out to be the most fun I’ve had so far in the mask.”

“Wanna make it more fun?” you asked, grinning suggestively at him.

The Devil’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he tried to bite back his growing smile. Something warm heated you, starting at the base of your skull and trickling down to your toes. Your eyes focused back on his mouth as your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You'd only been jokingly flirting, but now…

“Hate to be the voice of reason here,” the Devil began, “but I don't sleep with intoxicated women that I meet in alleys. I much prefer sober consent.”

“What a pity,” you mumbled, face contorting into a pout. “Never would've thought the Devil was a gentleman .”

“I'm full of surprises,” he teased.

You hummed thoughtfully in response, taking a step into the alley towards him and stumbling a little in your heels. Ignoring the growing throbbing of your ankle, you focused on the thrill of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen actually letting you flirt with him. You wanted to enjoy every minute of it, even if you probably wouldn't remember this moment too clearly in the morning.

“Anyone tell you you’ve got a pretty mouth?” you asked him. 

The Devil shook his head, his smile returning. “No. Can't say the criminals I meet are too fond of passing out compliments when I'm hitting them,” he replied.

“Well you do ,” you assured him. “You really, really do .” Eyes narrowing at the plush lips of his still quirked into a smile, you studied the shape of them amongst the faint bit of dark stubble. “Reminds me of my boss. Now that's a mouth I'd love to do things with,” you drunkenly confessed. “But see,” you continued, pointing a firm finger at the Devil’s chest, “ he’s an asshole. Not fun like you.” 

The Devil’s head tilted to the side again, his grin growing into a smirk. “Oh he is, is he?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Great ass, huge asshole. I’m–I’m sure there’s a stick shoved in there somewhere.”

The Devil barked out a laugh into the night as you reached into your purse and pulled out your phone. Squinting as the bright light assaulted your eyes, you saw that your Uber was mere minutes away. You loosed a disappointed sigh.

“Your ride almost here?” the Devil asked.

“Unfortunately,” you answered, returning your phone to your purse. “Unless you wanna be my ride tonight?”

Zipping your purse back up, you heard the Devil let out another laugh. Your smile grew along with your surprise at this whole interaction. You hadn’t anticipated just how fun the masked vigilante actually was considering how he spent his evenings. It was a shame you’d never meet him again.

“Have you fallen tonight?” the Devil asked, still grinning at you.

You held up a hand, preventing him from continuing his thought. “If you're about to ask if I fell from heaven,” you slurred, “then I'm disappointed in your lines, Devil man.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and laughing softly. “I’m just concerned you might have a concussion because of your continued flirting with a known vigilante. You should probably get your head checked out.”

“ You can check me out,” you teased coyly, sending him an exaggerated wink.

The Devil’s mouth opened, about to reply, but then his face darted over your shoulder, the corner of his lip twitching. You frowned when he took a step back, aware the gesture meant this entire interaction was quickly coming to an end. You didn’t want it to.

“Think your ride’s about here, actually,” the Devil said, further backing up into the alley. “Seems this is where I say goodnight.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t go yet!” you begged his retreating form. “I didn’t get any devil’s food cake!” you called after him. “How ‘bout a piece to-go? Sharing is caring!”

But somehow the Devil had quickly disappeared into the darkened alley, the only proof of his presence the echo of his laughter bouncing off the brick walls. The sound sent a pleasant chill up your body, a smile still lingering along your lips as you teetered on the spot staring after him.

The pounding in your head hit you almost immediately after the sound of your alarm hit your ears. Groaning miserably as your entire body protested waking, your hand blindly flew out from beneath the sheets and felt around for your phone. Opening your eyes, you immediately hissed in pain as the bright light in your bedroom burned them. You blinked rapidly, trying to push past the growing throbbing in your head in order to shut off your irritating alarm. 

Silence finally settling once more in your room, you tossed your phone back down onto your nightstand and rolled onto your side before immediately halting. A wave of nausea hit you instantly and you squeezed your eyes closed, hoping to fight the feeling back. You needed to get up and get ready for work. You had twenty minutes to wash up, brush your teeth, and throw on clothes before you had to be out the door or you'd be late, and you could only imagine how irate your one boss would be if you were. You didn’t have time to get sick.

After a few moments, you were grateful when the nausea subsided. Cautiously you tested things, slowly opening your eyes again before tentatively pushing yourself upright in bed. The pounding in your head continued to rage on, another pathetic groan slipping past your lips. Drinking like you'd done on a weeknight last night had been a horrible idea. Vaguely you recalled the evening in flashes–doing rounds of shots, dancing with your friends, flirting with some guy. Most of the night remained a blur, though.

Feeling half-alive, you climbed out of bed and focused on getting ready for work. You'd briefly washed off in the shower, scrubbing yourself just clean enough to remove the scent of alcohol that felt like it was seeping out from your pores. Then you brushed your teeth vigorously before swirling some mouthwash around in your mouth, the taste of which had you fighting bile once more back down. Then you threw on whatever clean blouse and slacks your hands touched first, shuffling through your apartment towards your shoes as you pulled your pants on.

It had ultimately taken you more than twenty minutes to get ready for work and to get out the door since you'd had to stop and brace yourself against a wall or piece of furniture multiple times–either due to the pain in your head or the roiling in your gut. Then you'd been in a hurry making your way out of your building and towards the office, the morning sun and the usual city traffic only further aggravating your headache. By the time you'd finally gotten to work, you were more than ten minutes late and out of breath. 

“I am–” you pushed open the door to the office, panting hard as you spotted one of your bosses leaning against your desk, “–so sorry. Was trying to get here on time but I went out last night. This morning was a struggle.”

“Well you're here now, at least,” Foggy said, glancing up from a paper in his hands at you. His brows creased together as he eyed you, his nose visibly scrunching in distaste. “Though you smell like you slept in a bathtub of liquor and you look like you woke up to fight a pissed off honey badger.”

You laughed lightly, the noise further irritating your head as you hurried over towards your desk before making your way around it. “Yeah. I'm aware,” you replied. “I'm sorry. My friend had a birthday last night and I went out to celebrate. I definitely drank too much and I completely regret it. I promise I learned my lesson.”

“Certainly not the best decision,” Foggy agreed. “But I'm glad to hear that. Maybe next time–”

“You're late.”

Your head darted over your shoulder at the sound of your other boss. Grimacing at the stern look on Matt’s face, your shoulders slumped as you set your bag down onto the top of your desk.  

“I know, I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock,” you apologized. “It was a one time thing, it won't happen again, I promise.”

“Good, it better not,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe to his office. The corner of his lip twitched upwards for a second before he raised his coffee cup to his mouth, hiding the smile threatening to spread onto his lips. “Fog's right though, you smell like you bathed in the alcohol instead of drinking it. Can you even remember your night out?”

Chewing your lip awkwardly, your brows furrowed as you tried to recall last night. Though the sight of Matt standing there casually leaning against the doorframe drinking his coffee, the buttons of his sage green dress shirt struggling as he did, was making it hard for you to focus.

“Uh, bits and pieces of it?” you answered. 

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lowering his coffee cup. “Well, hopefully your evening was worth showing up late for. I certainly enjoyed my night, though. Woke up in a good mood this morning, actually.”

Your eyes narrowed at the smile on his face, something tickling at the back of your mind at the sight of it. But Matt smiling instead of scolding you when you messed up was an unusual occurrence, one that had you hesitantly and distractedly lowering down into your desk chair. 

“Which is why I brought doughnuts for everyone this morning,” Matt continued, gesturing a hand towards your desk. “I hope you still have an appetite after all the alcohol.”

“They're so good,” Foggy told you. “They’re from that new bakery a block over.”

Foggy slid the white box you hadn’t noticed on your desk over towards you. You watched as he flipped the lid open, the strong and sweet aroma of sugar and chocolate hitting your nose. Your stomach rumbled hungrily as you eyed the delicious chocolate pastries.

“Since when do you bring in doughnuts?” you asked, glancing back over at Matt.

He pushed off the doorframe, shrugging his shoulder. “I don't know,” he said, a strange smile drawing itself wide across his lips. “For some reason I woke up with a craving for devil's food cake and I just thought I’d share.”

With a deep chuckle Matt turned around, making his way back into his office. Head tilting curiously to the side, your eyes lingered along his backside as that strange feeling of something trying to reach the forefront of your mind returned.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Matt Murdock - Flowershop AU

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Matt Murdock

Warnings: this drabble includes no blatant triggers. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+.

You tend to tune the world out. Literally. Your overear headphones block out the noise of the street, not that there's very much going. It's early.  

You prefer to open. The atmosphere is placid and you can do things at your own pace. The shop owner turns up on time anyhow, often carried away at some thrift shop or estate sale. Zuzana is kind but a bit flighty. Besides, you won't complain for as long as you get a check. 

It isn't until you feel the change beneath your soles that you realise something’s amiss. You look up at the store window, the middle pane gone but for a few shards left in the frame. On the pavement are the remnants. 

You look down, careful as you step off the pile. Any of the jagged pieces could easily slice through your flats.  Your mind goes blank as your usual routine lays in ruin with the shop window. 

You stand and stare. A tapping slowly tapers up behind you. You ignore it, too concerned with the window. What are you going to tell Zuzana?  

Well, what exactly happened? Why did the culprit smash the store front? A robbery? Or vandalism? Are they still inside? 

"You should watch your step," a familiar voice girds as a shard is bounced against the brick.  

You turn to face Matt. He's a regular. He still his cane, holding it straight to the ground as he cranes his head behind his dark glasses, as if he can actually see the shattered window. 

"Someone had quite the night," he says. 

"Um, yeah..." you murmur. 

He's a regular. You suspect he comes in for the conversation more than the flowers. He's always friendly.  

"I should check inside," you utter. 

"No, you should stay out here," he grips his can and swings it back forth, "let me have a look..." he clucks, "you know what I mean." 

You don't know if it's a joke or a misnomer. He grins and it eases the tension.  

"Matt, you can't--" 

"Why? I'm blind, not weak." 

"I didn't--" 

"Give me your keys," he holds his hand out, "I'm good at finding things in the dark. Trust me." 

You sigh and fish in your bag. You hand over the keyring and he moves forward. He's braver than you. The thought of going inside makes you nervous but he doesn't hesitate. 

"Be careful," you call after him. 

He chuckles. He's entirely unbothered. You wait as he unlocks the door and taps inside. You hold your breath, inching closer. You hear more broken glass. 

The tension wraps around your throat. You yelp as Matt appears in the broken window. His head moves back and forth and he holds something up. 

"Do you know what this is?" He asks, extending his arm. 

You step around the glass and take the paper. You turn it one way then the other before you unfold it. There's jagged writing on the inside but the most startling part is your name. 

"Is it a receipt? It was on the counter. With this." 

He holds out a stuffed pink rabbit. You stare at it. You have a collection of rabbit figurines at home. It started as a child, a fan of Peter Rabbit and his friends.  

You look at the letter again. 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"There's no signature in the letter," you say numbly. "But it has my name on it." 

He's silent. He brings the toy back to feel the floppy ears. He hums. 

"Secret admirer?" He wonders.  

"I... don't know," you murmur. 

"Worse, considering," he raises the end of his cane to poke the empty window frame, "I'll stay while you call the cops. Whoever it is, I think they might come back." 

[hunny-bean]

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[bunmurdock]

hi Bun what is ur naaaaastiest thought today🫶🏻😀

you caught me ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა 

that would be... being in a secret relationship with ddba!matt + making him feel good in his new office with just his tip in your mouth after work + appreciating his gorgeous strong body :( a lil thing:

“fuck,” mr. murdock growls, voice low and jagged as his fist tightens in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp sting. you’re kneeling on the hardwood floor of his midtown office, the space meant for late-night briefs and quiet discussions, not this. the faint sounds of traffic hum through the window, but all you hear is the ragged rise and fall of his breath. his cock brushes your lips, thick and swollen, his scent—musky, sweat-drenched, raw—filling your lungs. the room smells faintly of leather and old books, traces of cologne still clinging to his suit, but everything else fades under the heat radiating from him.

“open up,” he rasps, barely holding on, his words bouncing off the exposed brick walls. you do as he says, parting your lips, and he slides the tip of his cock inside, groaning deep as your mouth wraps around him, tongue flicking at the sensitive head. he doesn't push further, though—just feeds you the swollen tip, pulsing against your tongue. his other hand grips the base of his cock, slow and deliberate. “just a little. keep it in your mouth, kay,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, thick with restraint.

from below, his cock looks large and proud, veins bulging as he fists himself, the dark hair at his groin neatly groomed, framing the base. his muscles are taut, thighs flexing with each slick stroke of his hand. sweat gleams on his chest, catching the faint light through the drawn blinds, filtering between the edges of his open dress shirt and the tie loosened to the side, the stark contrast of office professionalism and this forbidden need.

this wasn’t supposed to happen—late hours at the firm, hushed whispers about cases, silences that lingered too long. you were just an intern. but now, you’re here, and the weight of your shared secret lingers in the air.

his strokes quicken, more desperate now, his hand fisting harder as he feeds you more of his cock. "jesus, fuck—" he groans, voice breaking when your tongue flicks over the tip, tasting him as his length twitches in your mouth. his body trembles, muscles straining, his control slipping away.

his thighs quiver, muscles taut, as his strokes become frantic, the tension coiling tighter with every breath. “shit, sweetheart, you’re gonna make me—” he grits out, his voice strained, hips jerking forward as he feeds you more, his cock throbbing on your tongue.

then he breaks, groaning deep and guttural as he cums, thick and hot, spilling across your tongue in pulsing waves. his cock twitches hard in his fist, his grip tightening in your hair as his body shudders. sweat drips down his chest, his breath ragged, the heat of his release settling between you in the quiet, his chest heaving as the weight of the moment—and the forbidden—hangs heavy in the air. just the two of you, wrapped in the intensity of your shared secret.

masterlist

[a-leg-without-fear]

Can you do a medium Peppermint latte with Matt murdock (or logan) with the prompt "All I feel is you,not the monster you made yourself believe."

I'll do both for ya! Two peppermint lattes, coming up!

His blood was up. That much you knew for sure. The way his fists trembled in their black gloves, the way his chest heaved under the black shirt stretched across his muscles, the way the splash of blood along his jaw accentuated the animalistic look in his dark eyes.

Matt had just gotten back from his nightly route around Hell's Kitchen. His black vigilante suit clung to him like a second skin. Wide, unseeing eyes focused somewhere on your chin.

You sat on the leather couched positioned in the middle of the living room. Shifting blues and purples shone from the wall-length windows and across the entire apartment. The light illuminated the Devil of Hell's Kitchen like a ghost in a haunted mirror.

"You alright?" you asked apprehensively. It was always hard to gauge what he'd need when he got like this. Whether it was a reassuring hug, rough sex, food. It differed every time.

He was silent as he descended the wooden stairs. Not even the creak of wood managed to cut through the tense silence between the two of you. You watched him with cautious curiosity.

"Anyone of interest get their teeth knocked out?" you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Matt kept his mouth closed, no witty remark slipping between his frowning lips, until his large boots met the apartment's wooden floor.

"I almost killed someone tonight."

The words hit you like a sack full of bricks. Unease settled under your skin and crawled through your system. You cleared your throat, trying to put on a calm face for him.

"Are you okay?" you asked again, pushing yourself up off the couch. Matt remained firmly planted where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. Mask clutched in a trembling fist, sweat beading down a furrowed brow, lower lip slightly quivering. You searched his pained expression, "Matt?"

"I started wailing on this guy. Hitting him over and over and over again," he began. The air around him was charged with static. Clouds rolled in over his head, shadows stretching along his haggard face, "He'd been abusing his son. Going in his room at night. I cornered him in an alley when he'd left to get beer."

"I don't need to know the rest," you said quietly. You took a few careful steps towards your devil. He showed no response.

"I need to say it," he breathed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Matt blinked up at the ceiling. The beginnings of tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, "I couldn't control myself. I was so fucking angry. Why should this guy get to walk away after what he's done?"

"Matt..." you'd finally reached him. Your palm rested on the fabric covering his chest. A tremor rolled through his body.

"I only stopped when his heartbeat slowed. When he was on the edge," Matt choked out. His body sagged under the weight of his guilt.

"You stopped. That's the important part," you whispered through the falling rain. Drops of anguish fell from the gathering rainclouds above his head.

"I could have killed him," he murmured, voice trembling. You trailed your hand up the front of his body, giving him plenty of time to react or push you away, before you cradled his jaw in your palm. He sighed at the contact.

"You didn't. You're not a killer," you said. His gloved hand looped around your wrist, fingers pressing into the spot where your pulse flowed strongest.

"How can you know that? How can you know that I won't snap?" he asked with a quiet groan. Tears steadily fell from his misty eyes. You wiped a drop away with the pad of your thumb.

"You're not a killer, D. You're not the monster you've made yourself believe you are," you responded, now cradling both sides of his face between your hands. He let the full weight of his head, of his guilt and sorrow, be supported by your palms.

You held him like that for a while. Holding him up when the weight of his conscience bared down on him like the world above Atlas. Occasional whispers of your affection broke up the uneasy silence. How you loved him, how you were proud of him, how you'd always be there for him.

Eventually, his arms snaked around your waist. Matt held you to his chest, burying his nose in your hair and reveling in the comfort only you could provide. You rubbed soothing circles into whatever skin you had access to.

It was hard work, loving the Devil. Providing him an opportunity of repentance within your embrace had become a frequent occurrence. Cradling him to your body, letting him absorb the comfort you effortlessly provided, and bringing him back to reality. It was hard, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Logan's chest rattled with each shaky exhale. His eyes were wide, frantic. Darting around the room like a cornered, wild animal. The tips of his adamantium claws poked out from between his knuckles.

Pale moonlight shone through the window, bathing the room in a faint, silver glow. You could just barely hear the chirping of crickets and the droning of cicadas outside your room.

Another nightmare. Logan had experienced another nightmare. And from the look of his wired state, it was a bad one.

You sat on the opposite side of the bed from him. Your legs were hugged against your chest, chin resting on your kneecaps. The way you'd huddled up wasn't out of fear. You'd never be afraid of Logan. It was to keep your skin clear of any claws that may strike out in Logan's frenzy.

"You okay?" you asked quietly, soothingly. Trying to calm his frayed nerves and bring him back to the present.

Hazel eyes met your own. The slide of metal on skin filled the silence between you, his claws retracting back beneath his skin. Logan blew out a trembling breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he mumbled, ruffling his mussed hair with tense fingers. You released your knees from where they were cradled to your chest and crawled across the bed. The sheets caressed the backs of your thighs as you sat in front of Logan.

"Wanna talk about it?" you offered with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Muscles jumped beneath heated skin. His eyes fell closed at the calming weight of your palm. A large, strong hand laced its fingers with yours.

"I... I killed you," Logan breathed, the sound agonizingly strained. His eyebrows turned up at the edges. He took in another shaky breath, lower lip quivering slightly, as he continued, "I held you in my arms as you died. Blood fucking everywhere. Because of me."

"Hey," you soothed, using your free hand to run your fingers gently down the side of his face. He leaned into the touch.

"I'm going to hurt you, doll. Why do you stick with me, when we both know I'll hurt you?" he uttered through clenched teeth. His eyes screwed shut, hot tears glittering in the moonlight where they'd gathered in the corners.

You contemplated your next words carefully. Your fingers continued to stroke down Logan's face, tangling lightly in his beard, as you formulated your response. He seemed to appreciate the closeness the two of you had fallen into. His forehead rested on yours, almost on instinct.

"You're not an animal, Lo," you finally said. His breath hitched behind his lips. The hand held in his squeezed at his fingers as you said, "You have control of yourself. I know you'll never hurt me."

"How do you know?" he responded, voice laced with despair.

"All I feel is you, Lo. Not the monster you've made yourself believe."

[trulyunholy]

a northern wind

daredevil x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.5k

notes: this is only my second daredevil/matt murdock fic, and this one was intended to be a one-shot but i’m kind of obsessed with the idea of it. it came from my unhinged obsession with the black suit and i’m not sorry.

The acrid smell of cigarettes lingered outside, wafting out the propped open door of the bar. Sounds of drunk laughter and clacking billiard balls could still be heard as you took in a deep breath of the fresh, cool autumn air. You pulled your jacket closer to your body against the slight chill of the wind.

“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Laura called to you as she stood halfway out the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you told her over your shoulder. “Just have fun and be safe, okay?”

“You stay safe, too! And text me as soon as you’re home,” she added before she stepped back through the doorway and out of sight.

One drink. That’s what the two of you had met up for at the beginning of the night. But then Laura ran into some of her friends from work, and one drink turned into several, followed up by rounds of shots.

You enjoyed the company, always enjoyed the chance to get out of your own head for a bit. But you had work early in the morning, and staying out until sunrise was not on your agenda. So you decided to walk home. It wasn’t a far walk, and it wasn’t terribly cold.

The smell of smoke finally cleared the farther you got from the bar, taken over by the smells of the city. Gasoline from the street, fresh bread from a nearby bakery, and the faintest smell of garbage somewhere in the background of it all. You loved this city, loved the closeness of everything and the ability to hide yourself among so many people.

The wind bit at your face, which was still feeling warm from the alcohol. The only sound above the monotonous bustling of every night was the surprisingly steady footfall of your boots on the sidewalk.

A different sound caught your attention several minutes into your walk, though. It was a distant sound, like feet shuffling quickly and men talking loudly. Your hand, shoved into your coat pocket, wrapped tightly around the small container of pepper spray, the one you kept with you anytime you were out by yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe here, it’s just that you never wanted to take a chance.

Your grip grew tighter the closer the noise got. Then you saw them, a group of men ahead of you, running in your direction. The panic in your chest was short lived, though, as soon as you realized they weren’t running at you. They were running away, from something or someone that was chasing them.

The men scuffled and nearly fell over each other trying to escape whatever was pursuing them. You stopped, frozen in place, unsure of whether to watch the action unfold or to run away yourself. But as soon as the group came across an alleyway about one hundred feet ahead of you, they turned into it sharply, out of sight.

A flash of movement followed, nothing more than a dark blur in your watery vision. You couldn’t make out any shape or feature, and your drunkenness did you no favors. The sounds of a fight came from the other side of the building in front of you, grunting and hits landing on flesh.

You knew you should’ve run. You should have turned around and left and gone as far in the opposite direction as you could. But you didn’t. You were curious. The alcohol had impaired your judgment far more than you first thought. The men, who seemed to have posed no threat to you anyway, had all run off by the time you rounded the corner into the alleyway.

Only one person remained, leaning on the brick wall of the building and nearly doubled over, catching their breath.

You’d heard the stories of vigilantes taking over the city, or superhuman strength and mystical powers. There wasn’t a person you knew who hadn’t heard them. But you weren’t sure you believed any of it. Tales of invincibility and magic seemed too far-fetched.

But in Hell’s Kitchen, the local watchdog felt more believable. Nothing more than a man who dressed in black and beat the shit out of criminals that the justice system couldn’t catch. It still sounded like fiction, but it was at least in the realm of reality.

Now, though. Now you were sure the stories were true. A man in all black, breathing hard after chasing some group of ne’er-do-wells. Maybe the stories were true.

“Holy shit.”

Your voice seemed to startle him, and his stance changed, tensed and taut like a cat that was cornered and ready to flee.

“Wait!” you called out to him, voice admittedly a little too loud.

You weren’t sure why you asked him to wait. He had no reason to listen to you. But you were fascinated, hypnotized by this mystery man, this myth come to life.

To your surprise, he did stop. The air was as tense as it was harsh, beating on the exposed skin of your face. A heavy weight began to build in your chest as you realized you had no idea what to say, what to do.

“Are you…?”

What the hell were you going to ask? ‘Are you that superhero guy I keep hearing stories about?’ ‘Do you really run around town all night and just fight crime like it’s your job?’ ‘Who are you under that mask?’

Everything sounded ridiculous in your head. You were fumbling over your own thoughts, trying to think of something, anything to say to keep him there. Why, you weren’t sure.

Giving up on any question you could have formed, you took a step toward him instead. He reacted fast, poised like a threatened animal, ready to flee or to pounce, you weren’t sure which. But looking him over, taking his n his body underneath the black, his sharp jaw below the mask, you weren’t sure which you were about to do, either.

“Are you real?” you asked, cursing yourself immediately for the clumsiness of your words, the slight slur in your voice.

He smirked, though, his lips twitching up into the faintest of a smug smile you could barely see in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“Well, this isn’t a dream, if that’s what you’re asking,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth as velvet.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you replied, fighting through the haze of inebriation. “Though I don’t think this scenario would be classified as a dream.”

“A nightmare, then,” he added easily.

As you took another cautious step closer, you saw his body relax a little, his muscles loosen from the tension of fight or flight.

“Yeah, a nightmare, then,” you said teasingly, though you couldn’t hide the curiosity there, too.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of what you’d just seen or the one-too-many shots you’d had at the bar, but you felt bold, bolder than you had any right to feel. You kept walking toward him until he was an arm’s length away. He didn’t move an inch, still as a statue, his head cocked in a way that made you think he was curious, too. When you stopped, you looked him up and down, admiring the glisten in the exposed skin of his throat.

“My kind of nightmare, too,” you said. “Or maybe it is a dream.”

His expression was hard to read with his eyes hidden from view, but the way his tongue shot over his lips, the way his lips began to form a bold grin, you could make a pretty good guess.

“You dream about this kind of thing often?” he asked, his voice somehow lower now. His tone was teasing, testing, lofty. “Of approaching strange men in dark alleyways?”

“Only the cute ones.” Your heart was beating hard in your chest now, and you could feel a heat rise to your face, rush through your body. “Or the heroes.”

“So which am I?” he asked, his tone daring you to answer.

“You tell me.”

Face warm against the chill, body tensed and stomach tight, you closed the space between you with one final step. But the moment you reached a hand toward him, unsure of what you were even going to do, his hand on your wrist in a heartbeat, scaring you half to death.

“Don’t.” His voice was demanding now, his grip strong against you, and his velvet dark voice sent sparks through your veins.

“Okay,” you conceded quickly, though his words did nothing to deter you. “A man with a secret. What do you have to hide?”

Your question wasn’t accusatory. You weren’t demanding any information. Somehow you knew he wouldn’t give it to you even if you were. His grip on your wrist did not loosen, and his mouth fell into a tense line.

After a moment, silence broken only by the sound of your breathing, he let go. As soon as he did, your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers tracing his collarbone jutting out from under the slick black fabric of his shirt. A heavy breath escaped him at your touch, as if he could feel the heat inside of you escaping through your fingertips.

“I don’t have to see you to kiss you, do I?”

He remained still as your fingers trailed across his chest, up, up, up, until they found a place on the back of his neck. His skin was hot and almost sticky, and you could feel the softness of hair peeking out from underneath his mask. He had no response, the smug attitude from only moments before disappearing as he swallowed hard.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked as you leaned in closer to him, your voice barely above a whisper.

A long, silent moment slips between the two of you as you wait for his response, your fingers digging into the back of his neck with the slightest hint of pressure.

When he finally answered, his voice was almost lost behind the pounding of your own heart in your ears. But the hot puff of breath and the movement of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

“Yes.”

Another beat, another silent second before you broke the tension and kissed him. His lips were unmoving underneath yours, still, unsure. But when you closed the space between your bodies, too, thighs against thighs, chest against chest, he relaxed into your touch.

Muscle and skin was warm underneath your touch as your hand slid down to his shoulders. Fingernails dug through fabric into skin, and his reaction to the slight pressure seemed huge. His arms were around you quickly, one hand finding a place on your lower back. He straightened himself, and when he pushed away from the wall and into you, you nearly had to stretch to reach him. And you decided you would do whatever you had to do to reach him again, to chase after the head-spinning high of a simple kiss.

Heat rose in the pit of your stomach, your heart taking too much space in your chest with just how fast it was beating. When he kissed you again, it was different, it was something hotter and hurried. His lips parted, and you took the opportunity to explore, to lick and to taste and to take. When he did the same, and you felt the wet warmth of his tongue, you couldn’t resist nip him. It wasn’t a bite, not really, and certainly not enough to hurt. But he pulled back anyway, his mouth settling into a sort of frown. Surprise, you think.

“Sorry,” you offered, intonation like a question.

But then his smirk was back, lips tilted into a devilish smile that sent chills down your spine. Before you knew it, your back was against the brick and he was pinning you there, hands on your hips, digging into the wall. You tried to find his face with your hand, desperate to touch him again, but he stopped you again.

“Relax,” you told him, breathless. “I’m not interested in unmasking you.”

After only a short moment of consideration he let go, and his hand found your hair instead. His palm cradled the back of your head, fingers twined through your hair as if he’s holding you there, as if he’s making sure you don’t get away.

You didn’t want to get away.

“What are you interested in?” he asked as he leaned in close, his breath hot on your face despite the visible cloud that forms in the night air.

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

Your eyes flicked back to his lips, then to the black of the mask over his eyes, only inches away. You wondered how he saw through that thing, considering you couldn’t see his eyes at all. But in the moment, you didn’t care. Not while his hands were back on you, his body pressing yours into the rough brick, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

A little too roughly, his lips crashed back into yours, the fingers in your hair pulling as they tensed. A short moan escaped your lips at the feeling, and he nearly growled his approval at the sound, a rumbling that sounded like it was coming from deep in his chest, something primal and feral and full of need.

Suddenly you decided that you needed more of him, that you had to have as much of him as close to you as possible. Your hands snaked around his body, roaming down his back before grabbing his ass and pushing yourself even closer to his. Something hard dug into the softness of your belly, but you didn’t stop to figure out what it was.

It almost hurt, the way he kissed you so hard you felt like there would be no air left in your lungs, the way he wouldn’t let you break away for air. When you did try, he pushed you back into the wall, his hand on your head cushioning it from the brick. And he held you there, his lips never letting up, lips and tongue and teeth all melding together into one warm, wet sensation. You’d never been kissed like that before. You had a feeling you might never be kissed like that again.

Anonymous hookups in bar bathrooms wasn’t foreign to you, but this, this felt different. There was a fire burning bright and hot in your stomach, seeping heat out of your every pore. There was a passion, a desire behind the man’s every movement that was hard to describe. He could take you right here in this alleyway and you knew you wouldn’t feel a bit of shame afterwards.

His hands moved from your head to the back of your neck, and you nearly gulped in the cool night air as his fingers traced feather soft trails down the fabric of your coat. He leaned down and kissed you again, but it was softer, slower, with no less heat behind it than before. It was just a different heat, a simmer instead of a boil. But it was just as hot.

He pushed your coat open and had his fingers in your waist in the same motion. His hand felt cold through the fabric of your top, but the goosebumps erupting across your skin had nothing to do with the cold. His teeth caught your lower lip and he bit just hard enough to sting, and the noise you made was closer to a whimper than a moan. You were already falling apart, and you should have been embarrassed. But you weren’t. Somehow it only spurred you on more.

His hand found your hips and his nimble fingers immediately pushed up your shirt. You nearly flinched when he made contact with your bare skin, but you didn’t mind, and he didn’t stop. You were hot, you couldn’t breathe, and you had never been so turned on in your life.

Rough fingers on exposed skin, touch light and fast and he mapped you out. You had no idea what you were doing, making out with a total stranger in an alleyway in the middle of the night. Was it the alcohol, the adrenaline, the fact that this man in the black suit risked his life to save people and bring justice to a city that so desperately needed it, and just so happened to look damn good while doing it? Not even an hour before, you were doubting the validity of vigilantes in the city. Now, you were eager to repay the hero for the risks he took nightly.

You were finally able to catch your breath as his mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, and he started a trail down your neck, kissing and licking and biting in turns. Rough stubble tickled your skin as you closed your eyes, desperate to focus on nothing but the sensation of his mouth as he found a spot at the base of your neck that had you squirming underneath him. You were getting so worked up, so desperate, you could feel the heat growing in your stomach and the desire building between your legs.

Mouth still at the pulse point on your throat, his hand finally rested at the waist of your pants, fingers testing the fabric, dipping underneath and tugging carefully. Throwing your head back wantonly, a sting of pain rang through your head, but it barely even registered. Everything you were feeling was becoming too much, and you couldn’t help but moan again, this time louder and without regard for anything else around you. You heard the man chuckle into your skin, a dark sound that you were sure came from the way he was pleased to be tearing you apart.

Your eyes still closed, your hands felt wildly for any purchase they could, landing on the expanse of his back. When his fingers moved on your waistband, and you could feel his fingers lingering by the button of your pants, your breathing was hard, your heart was beating so fast it hurt, and your fingernails dug into him hard. It wasn’t intentional, but when he let out a low moan so beautiful it shot straight to your core, you knew you had to do it again. So you did, scratching lines down his shoulder blade and into his spine. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you could feel hot breath on your skin. You felt delirious.

Then your phone rang. It was so piercingly loud in the quiet of the alleyway that you nearly screamed, startled. The stranger jumped, immediately putting space between the two of you.

“Shit!” you cursed, trying to remember which pocket you’d stuffed your phone into before leaving the bar. When you finally found it two rings later, you cursed again at the lit up screen. It was Laura. “I’m sorry, I gotta take this,” you told the stranger without taking your eyes off the screen.

When you answered, your ears were immediately hit with the quick, loud voice of your friend, demanding to know where you were and why you hadn’t texted her yet. You sighed, wanted to roll your eyes, frustrated at her even though she didn’t know what she had just interrupted.

Laura was still going on about something, her words almost slurred to the point of incoherence, when you turned to address the stranger. What the hell you planned on saying to him, you weren’t sure. But when you turned around, he was gone. You were alone in the alley and he was nowhere to be seen. No evidence that he had ever been there in the first place, save your open coat and mussed hair.

You didn’t know what you expected. You sighed and told Laura that you’d call her back as soon as you got home. You were only a couple of minutes away from your apartment anyway. As you hung up and shoved the phone back in your pocket, you wrapped your coat around you again, smoothed down your hair, and headed back to the sidewalk. Your boots hit the pavement hard as you walked, but you could barely hear them over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You weren’t sure whether to feel disappointed or excited or incredibly turned on. In truth, you felt a mixture of the three churning uncomfortably in your stomach.

You kept your eyes up as you took the last few blocks home, looking around in an inane hope that you might catch sight of him again.

Part of you hoped that he’d find you again, that you could finish what you started. If all the stories were true, you knew he was still out there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he watched you as you walked home, if he watched you as you got to the door of your apartment building. The brass doorknob was cold in your hand as you hesitated to turn it, looking around one last time. Nothing but lamp posts and telephone poles and the darkness beyond it all. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on your back when you finally opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the building.

——

this hasn’t been proofread by anybody but me, so sorry for any errors or inconsistencies. comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

find it on ao3 here!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined. 

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

-

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.” 

All things he had said before tonight. 

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband. 

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them. 

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Back. Off.” 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. 

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge. 

God, you were turning into Matt. 

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it. 

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort. 

You could do this. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk. 

You could do this. 

A hand pulled you into the alley. 

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat. 

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade. 

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed. 

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops. 

No no no, you needed him alive. 

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced. 

Matt would smell the blood. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen. 

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck. 

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.” 

He let you go. 

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him. 

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.” 

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked. 

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall. 

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out. 

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound. 

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him? 

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.” 

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.” 

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck. 

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home. 

-

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit. 

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted. 

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut. 

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did. 

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.” 

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away. 

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.” 

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.” 

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back. 

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.” 

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here. 

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips. 

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.” 

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.” 

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom. 

“Are you coming or not?” You asked. 

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following. 

-

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of. 

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist. 

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk. 

Fisk. 

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already. 

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much. 

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy. 

“Where are you going?” 

You flinched. Maybe not so easy. 

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm. 

“You want to go over there,” he said softly. 

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?” 

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said. 

Matt frowned. 

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.” 

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.” 

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again. 

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm. 

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him. 

 “Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys. 

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry. 

But you were already gone. 

-

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air. 

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside. 

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you. 

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run. 

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside. 

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place. 

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty. 

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk. 

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you. 

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.” 

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket. 

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.” 

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.” 

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.” 

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer. 

Bingo. 

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door. 

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach. 

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other. 

The door opened. 

Bartman looked up. 

The shot.

The blood. 

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs. 

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you. 

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.” 

He raised his gun. 

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment. 

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker. 

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down. 

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs. 

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun. 

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark. 

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed. 

You ran to the red sign. 

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace. 

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.” 

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest. 

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over. 

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression. 

“Did Fisk’s man see you?” 

You swallowed. 

Your silence was enough. 

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment. 

“Stay here,” he said. 

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him. 

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.” 

Matt pushed you behind him. 

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement. 

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?” 

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.” 

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.” 

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions. 

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked. 

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down. 

The man cried out. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer. 

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.” 

“Why does Fisk want this building?” 

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm. 

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you. 

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly. 

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body. 

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.” 

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear. 

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.” 

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you. 

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them. 

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking. 

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest. 

But you weren’t going to back down. 

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.” 

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much. 

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face. 

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled. 

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night. 

-

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

[amberlynnmurdock]

My Escape

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: The one time Matt is her escape in a loud situation, and she's his when he has a rough night as Daredevil.

From this lovely anon's request!

I hope I did your request justice, anon friend!

Warnings: anxiety symptoms described, gunshot sound

Words: Just under 2k

*not my gif, credit to owner*

Matt Murdock could take a beating—he could threaten a criminal over the edge of a roof without remorse and he could speak threats like they were prayers. One thing he couldn’t take? If she was feeling uncomfortable in any situation, in any way. 

Matt was sitting across from her at Josie’s—they hadn’t reached that point in their relationship where there was a label and for that matter, if one saved the other one a seat at the table at Josie’s—and he was waiting for a moment to ask her if everything was okay. Foggy and Karen were playfully arguing about who should play winner at the pool table. Marci was taking a work call. But her? 

She was anxiously drawing circles on the condensation of her beer bottle. She was looking around the bar, for nothing in particular, but for a sense of safety. She doesn’t need to worry about that, Matt thinks to himself. I’m here. Her knee was tapping at an incredible speed against her seat. No one else could feel it, but Matt could feel the vibrations through the floor up to his chair. Her heart was beating so fast it sounded like a loud thumping to Matt’s ears. She looked around again, biting her lip, flinching when she heard a group of men shout over at the TV. 

Having enough of the environment, she excused herself from the table. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, barely at a volume anyone could hear her. Foggy and Karen didn’t acknowledge her exit and Marci stayed on the phone. Matt cocked his head to listen to where she was going—the bathroom. 

She’d have to walk past a large group of bikers, ignoring their ogling glances and pushing past their rough leather jackets. Excuse me, Matt heard her politely say. His grip on his beer bottle tightened as he heard what some of them said under their breath. Immediately, Matt got out of his seat to follow her to the bathroom to make sure she was safe.

She closed the door behind her and stood back against it, eyes closed. 

“Breathe,” she whispered to herself. She took a few deep breaths and felt her heart palpitating in her chest. Suddenly, she felt hot in her clothes and for moment thought she was going to pass out. Did I hydrate enough today? She placed a hand over her heart to calm herself down. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. Your friends are right outside. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Matt heard her whisper to herself. He was standing a few feet from the door, holding his cane in his hands, waiting for her. 

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and fixed her hair—the only thing she felt in control of. 

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Matt waiting for her. 

“Matt,” she was startled. Relief washed over her like cold water, and suddenly she felt like she had come back down to reality. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, offering a smile. “You want to step outside for a sec?” 

“I’d love that,” she breathed out. 

It was much cooler outside than the dingy inside of the bar. The loud noises that came from the biker gang and other drunkards were nothing but muffled sounds as the door closed. Only the sounds of the city at night filled the space between them. Matt let her take a moment to herself as she leaned against the brick wall of the building and closed her eyes. He stood right next to her so his left shoulder was touching her right. He played with his cane in his hands, wondering when the right moment to speak would come. The last time it was the two of them, his hands had gotten lost in the tangles of her hair as they shared their first kiss. She had been so relaxed and carefree. Now, she was anxious and quiet. He wanted to show her that he could be the one she stole kisses from and the one who would be there for her when she wasn’t feeling herself. 

Instead, Matt didn’t say anything. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed. He moved his cane to rest against the wall and gently trailed his fingers around her wrist until his hand was completely holding hers. She accepted it with gratitude, melting into his touch. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. Matt wanted to hide the smile on his face, but he couldn’t. Her head fit perfectly on his shoulder.

“I had a feeling something was wrong,” he mumbled. “Thought you could use a break from inside.”

“I just get overwhelmed,” she sighed. “Too much noise for my brain to comprehend all at once. And then I feel unsafe and like I’m going to pass out. Do you ever feel overwhelmed?”

Matt chuckled in irony—did he ever. She didn’t know about his heightened senses, but he could relate to her in so many ways. He’s learned to turn off certain sounds but sometimes, and especially at night, he could never have a completely quiet night. 

“Yes,” was all he said. “I do. All the time.”

“Well,” she picked up her head, the warmth immediately disappearing from Matt’s shoulder. “If you ever get overwhelmed, don’t be afraid to come to me to escape.”

Matt doesn’t reply with words—instead, he places a kiss on her forehead. As long as she was his escape, he’d gladly be hers.

****

Matt hated guns. 

He really hated guns. 

Once a shot rang, the sound bounced against the walls and reverberated in his ears, throwing his whole balance off. Normally, he could shake it off, but tonight, the sound stayed. It stayed longer than when he left the alley it went off in. It stayed longer than it took to apprehend the gang member and throw him on the steps of the 15th Precinct. Now, as Matt patrolled the streets of Hell’s Kitchen in his Daredevil gear, he couldn’t control how loud the noises were in his ears. 

Everything sounded sharp—high pitched in his ears, the kind that happened after attending a loud concert, the kind that stayed around for hours. Unfortunately for his case, it was ten times worse than the normal sound. Because his hearing was tuned up, it confused him when he smelt the different scents of the city—and believe him when he says they are the worst. Pungent garbage filled his nose, slick bitter pavement, rusting metal he can taste in the air. 

It was hard to find his way to her apartment. Now that she knew his secret, she told him her apartment was his for free reign if he ever needed her. He tried not to burden her with his problems as Daredevil—knowing his secret was enough of a burden—so he saved his tickets to go to her apartment when he was desperately in need of her touch. Like he was tonight. 

It was past midnight. He landed on her fire escape and tried his best to hear what she was doing through the windows of her apartment—dammit, the noises of the city were still too loud. He could barely hear anything coming from her apartment. Was she sleeping? Was she awake? He didn’t know, couldn’t tell. Suddenly, his cowl and mask felt too tight around his head, like it was squeezing him until he burst. Matt grunted in frustration as he placed his hands on his helmet. 

“Hey, hey,” the sound of a sliding window filled his ears. Matt flinched from the noise but immediately relaxed when he realized it was her, awake. “Come in.” 

She reached for him to grab her hands, and when she saw him struggle to find her touch, she knew it had been a rough night for him as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Her city’s protector. Her savior. She leaned out the window more and took hold of his strong hands, which now felt so delicate and weak in hers. She helped him step inside, careful not to knock her potted plants over. 

Matt let her guide him to her soft velvet couch. He was too weak and distraught from the gunshot to be able to guide himself. She gently lowered him to sit down, still holding his hands. She placed them in her lap and caressed his calloused, bruised knuckles. She winced at the sight of how purple and red they were, but continued to caress them. She had to be the stronger one now. 

“Rough night?” She whispered. 

“Yeah,” he breathed weakly. “Someone—had a gun,” he uttered, still hearing things all too loudly. She knew how much he hated guns—his sensitive hearing would be affected for hours. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was dealing with now, much worse than the bruises she saw on his hands. 

His face was still beneath the red mask, only his nose and mouth visible. It was probably even worse to be constricted in his suit like this. 

“Let’s get you out of this,” she hushed, knowing even the sound of her voice could make his sense feel worse. She slowly lifted his mask with her thumbs and popped it gently off his face. He looked dazed, now that his senseless eyes were visible. His hair was disheveled from the mask. She brushed her fingers through his chocolate brown locks and he closed his eyes. 

“Shh,” she whispered. “Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Listen to my heart.”

Matt closed his eyes, using all his might to focus his hearing on hers. His ears were still ringing, but soon, after much concentration on the sound of her voice and steady heartbeat, the ringing finally began to fade. His senses went from feeling like a circus to a calm, still river. It was so quiet, that he could even hear his own breathing. And the smells… the smells of the city faded as her scent of lilies and marshmallows filled his nose in the most pleasant way. Everything was now overwhelmingly her. 

She placed her forehead against his, the tips of their noses touching. She kept her hand on the back of his head and caressed his neck. 

“Breathe with me,” she whispered. “Breathe with me.”

“I am,” Matt was finally able to hear his own voice, the sound of the gunshot ringing completely gone. 

“You’re here with me,” she murmured, her lips brushing over his as she spoke. Matt nodded, foreheads still touching. Now that he was touching her, her entire being was encapsulating his senses. His world became her. His reality became her. An escape he never wanted to come back from. 

“What do you hear?” She asked gently, nudging her nose on his cheek. 

“You,” he breathed. “Just you.” 

“Feel better?” She asked when she noticed his breathing had slowed down. He nodded. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

She kissed him in response, letting her lips linger on his. They tasted salty from his sweat, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care what state he was in—she’d always kiss him. Soon, she asked if he wanted to spend the night with her in her apartment. Matt never agreed to anything faster. After a few moments on the couch, trading touches and chasing kisses, they went to her bedroom, where Matt truly understood what it meant she said they could be each other’s escape. 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week! 

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you. 

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger. 

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.” 

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.” 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion. 

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.” 

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly. 

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled. 

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.” 

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped. 

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily. 

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.” 

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him. 

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress. 

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom. 

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 7: "So Close Yet So Far"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.6k

a/n: Apparently the next installment flew out of me quicker than anticipated so here you go--hopefully it sufficiently frustrates you by the end! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored

You stood there eyeing the brick building with your head tilted to the side, one of your fingers tapping along your coffee cup. A brow rose curiously onto your forehead as your focus lingered on the hardware store sign above you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Foggy and Matt a look.

The smile that had been on Foggy’s face vanished immediately. 

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“What? No, I didn’t say that!” you quickly answered.

Foggy’s attention shifted to Matt next to him, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Dude, she doesn’t like it,” he told him.

Your eyes widened as you saw Matt’s face visibly fall next, his disappointment impossible to miss even with his dark glasses covering part of his face. 

It had also been exceptionally hard to ignore how attractive he looked today with how he was dressed–vastly different than he’d ever dressed in college. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and a navy tie with a pair of tight fitting slacks. You’d shamefully been unable to avoid looking at his ass while Foggy was guiding him ahead of you down the sidewalk, having to mentally remind yourself that you were with Liam now. You shouldn’t have been checking out your friend’s ass–but my God, you were certain it had somehow gotten larger and more muscular than you remembered it in college. You couldn’t exactly refrain from looking when it was right there.

“I did not say that!” you exclaimed.

“And here I thought you’d be a supportive friend,” Matt said, rounding on you next. “We take a leap of faith and open our own law firm and you don’t like our office?”

You waved a hand frantically at the brick building before the three of you. “It’s a hardware store!” you pointed out.

“No,” Foggy disagreed, shaking his head at you. “It’s next to the hardware store.”

Your eyes followed the sweeping movement of his hand as he gestured to the door beside the hardware store. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you bit back your next comment. The door was unmarked and looked like it was part of the business beside it.

“You don’t like it,” Foggy reiterated, staring at you.

“It’s just–it’s a bit confusing where your office actually is,” you admitted. 

“We’ll make a sign,” Foggy assured you. “Eventually. But why don’t you actually come in and see it?”

“Sure, I'd love to,” you said, waving your hand at the door. “Lead the way Nelson and Murdock.”

Foggy’s grin immediately returned as he grabbed Matt’s arm and led the pair of them to the door. You followed behind, stepping into the building and making your way down the long hallway past a few other offices as you went. Eventually Foggy came to a stop in front of a door with a piece of paper taped to the glass. In black marker it read ‘Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law’ and you couldn’t resist the smile that instantly spread over your mouth. They really had gone and rented an office and started a firm this morning.

Foggy took a moment to unlock the door before swinging it open. He turned towards you, a bright smile still plastered across his face.

“Ladies first,” Foggy said, gesturing you ahead.

With a grin and a shake of your head you made your way into their office space, your eyes taking in the barrenness of it. There was a single desk shoved to the far back wall of the main room beside a few abandoned filing cabinets. Two rooms that appeared to be offices were opposite of each other in the space, a conference room beside one of them. There had been a table that fit the space perfectly left behind in it. 

“So?” Foggy pressed, “What do you think?” 

“It certainly has everything you guys need,” you mused, taking a few steps into the space and looking around, eyeing the dust on the filing cabinets and the desk. “And it came moderately furnished, too. I’d say that’s a bonus.”

“Oh, we got bonus furniture?” Matt asked in amusement. “Foggy didn’t mention bonus furniture.”

Your eyes were drawn towards Matt at the sound of his voice. There was a boyish grin on his lips as he spoke and you felt the all too familiar ache in your chest at the sight of it. But you quickly tried to shove those thoughts away. You were with Liam now. And you had been for a few months. Matt was only your friend. Grudgingly you reminded yourself that he’d recently moved into his own place because he was still getting that much attention from beautiful women after college and had wanted more privacy. 

You needed to stop thinking about him like that.

“Is it in good shape, would you say?” he asked you.

Shrugging a shoulder, you eyed the desk before you. “I mean it’s not broken, so there’s that?” you answered.

Matt’s warm laugh appeared to echo through the room. You’d missed the sound of it. Ever since the three of you had graduated it had been hard to keep up with seeing each other. Usually you were lucky to see them once or twice a month lately, though you often spoke to them via text messages–or occasional phone calls from Matt. But those were fairly infrequent lately. You had figured this was what was bound to happen after you’d all graduated, you slowly drifting apart from them, but you’d hoped it would take longer than it had.

“Now you guys just need clients,” you said, turning around and facing the pair of them.

“Actually, we have one,” Matt told you.

Your eyebrows curiously rose onto your forehead at his words. They’d only just got this space today, how had they already acquired a client?

“I think she means one with money , Matt,” Foggy pointed out. “Because we don’t have one of those yet.”

“Ahh, well, we’ll get one of those eventually,” Matt assured him. 

As your eyes took in the space around you again, memories of the three of you during your days at Columbia slowly played back in your mind. All those nights you heard them discussing what they’d do after law school ran through your mind. How they’d occasionally joked about opening their own firm in Hell’s Kitchen–to help the less fortunate, Matt always said. To be his own boss and not have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn was Foggy’s dream–along with being rich.

And now here they were, already on their way to achieving that dream.

“I’m proud of you both,” you said, eyes shifting between the pair of them. “Nelson and Murdock. You made it happen. We’ll have to get together and celebrate this another night.”

Across the room, Foggy and Matt’s faces both simultaneously fell yet again. Instantly you felt guilty that you needed to leave, but you hadn’t had a chance to see Liam all week. You were planning to surprise him this evening with a night in.

“You’ve got to run already?” Foggy complained. “You just got here!”

“I’m sorry!” you said. “I told you I didn’t have long because I was heading over to Liam’s tonight.”

“Thought you’d have longer than a few minutes for your best friends,” Foggy complained.

Frowning, your attention shifted towards Matt. He’d become oddly quiet, his focus on the floor of the office. You noticed he’d been like this more and more lately and you wished he’d open up to you. Clearly something was going on with him, but you had no idea what. In the past, before graduation, he’d have told you. It hurt that things had changed so much that now he wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, tone softer. “I’ll make it up to you guys another time, alright?”

“Fine,” Foggy reluctantly agreed, throwing his arms out towards you. “Now give me a hug before you go surprise your man. And he better be grateful for this visit because he’s stealing you away from us tonight. Again.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping across your lips. Closing the distance between the pair of you, you quickly returned Fog’s hug. When you pulled away and looked over your shoulder, you saw the morose expression on Matt’s face, his head still bowed. You stepped over towards him, nervously holding out your arms.

“Care for a hug goodbye, Matty?” you asked.

His head darted up instantly, a smile quickly spreading across his face. The sight of it was bright in the dimly lit room and it had your stomach flipping.

“Of course,” he answered.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, his own arms coming to encircle your shoulders and drawing you into him. For a brief moment your eyelids lowered, your face buried into his broad shoulder. He smelled good–like fresh laundry. And he felt more solid than you remembered him being. Had he been working out? 

Your eyes opened, taking in the sight of Foggy staring back at you just over Matt’s shoulder. He had that look on his face again. That same sad look he had always given you once he’d found out you’d had feelings for Matt. He knew. He knew damn well you weren’t over Matt just because you’d been with Liam for a few months. 

Clearing your throat, you abruptly pulled away from Matt, holding your coffee cup nervously between both hands now. “I should get going, I’ll see you guys later,” you said quickly.

Without further hesitation, you made your way out of the office, hearing both of them calling goodbyes after you. As you made your way out of the building and towards Liam’s apartment, you tried your best to shove down everything you’d felt for Matt which that hug had suddenly tried to bring right to the surface.

Throwing back the beer bottle, you quickly swallowed down the alcohol. Tonight had turned out to be an exceptionally shitty evening. You’d gone to surprise Liam at his apartment because the pair of you had been so busy this past week that your schedules never seemed to align. You had every intention to stay in and order takeout with him, binging something on TV and having a relaxing night in.

But that’s not how the night had gone at all.

You’d showed up to Liam’s apartment and surprised him–that certainly happened. But you hadn’t expected the surprise you got in return in the form of a pretty, half-dressed brunette that he’d been trying to hide from you. He of course tried to apologize, to tell you it’s not what it looked like, but you knew it was all bullshit. So you’d yelled at him, tears streaming down your face as you ended the first relationship you’d had in years.

Then you’d headed into the first bar you’d spotted on your walk home, tears still staining your cheeks as you ordered three beers and proceeded to chug them one after the other. After you’d downed the third one, you’d ordered a fourth and contemplated calling Foggy. Hell, you’d almost called Matt. You certainly would have loved his comfort this evening. You would have loved to have him pull you into that firm chest of his, wrap those big, strong arms he had around you and hear him tell you that it would all be okay. That you deserved better. That it wasn't your fault.

That he wanted you.

But that was all a ridiculous fucking hope. He'd comfort you as a friend and nothing more, as he always did. And it would only tear you up even further to experience that right now. So instead you'd left your phone in your purse as you chugged down beer number four wondering what the hell was wrong with you that you couldn't keep Liam happy or even attract the attention of your best friend who slept with apparently every other woman in his vicinity but you. Still .

Bitter anger bubbled in your stomach, mixing with the three and a half beers you'd quickly thrown back. Grabbing the half-empty fourth bottle, you downed the rest of its contents in a few gulps. You slammed the empty bottle back on the bar counter, glaring at it as if it too had somehow hurt you tonight. 

"Fuck everything," you grumbled to yourself.

For another few minutes you sat there on the bar stool, contemplating if you wanted another drink or not. The thought was tempting, but you did still need to finish walking the last few blocks back to your apartment. Much more to drink and you wouldn't be able to do that. Especially not with how fast you'd already thrown those four beers down. Though the prospect of going back to your empty apartment already had the tears returning to your eyes. 

Blinking them back, you clumsily slid off the bar stool, grasping the counter to steady yourself. When you were sure you weren’t about to fall over, you turned and made your way to the bar's exit. The room around you spun a bit as you walked, but you kept on going, pushing your way out of the door and onto the sidewalk. The temperature had dropped outside and you could hear the faint roar of thunder in the distance. It felt as if the weather itself had even adjusted to your shift in mood–cold and raging.

Head ducked down, you made your way back towards your building. Your mind eventually shifted back to thoughts of earlier tonight as you walked. To Liam’s shock when he'd opened the door of his apartment and saw you standing there. You remembered how he'd been so flustered, his cheeks flushed as he seemingly didn’t want to let you inside. Then that brunette called out behind him just before she appeared over his shoulder, still trying to button up her blouse and entirely confused as to why you were in the hallway crying at his door.

Your stomach violently churned, sick threatening to spill out of you. You weren't sure if it was from the beers or the heartache, but you darted down a side alley and bent over, closing your eyes and hoping to make the feeling fade. Tears were steadily running down your cheeks as you tried to take a few deep breaths, begging yourself not to throw up in a back alley. 

The space around you soon felt like it was spinning, the sensation incredibly dizzying. You sunk to the pavement, a sob falling out of you as the nausea persisted. You pressed your forehead to the cold brick of the building in front of you, waiting until that wave of nausea eventually faded. But that hollow ache in your chest you'd felt for years now felt like it had abruptly grown tonight as if it was trying to swallow you entirely. 

Somewhere in your inebriated mind you were aware that you shouldn't be drunk and crying late at night in an alley in the city, that you should get up and go home, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You sat there on your knees, forehead pressed to the brick, and cried hard as all of your pain began to fall out of you in the form of tears.

Another crack of thunder rumbled through the night and you began to hear the patter of rain lightly hit the pavement before you felt a few drops hit you. A bitter laugh rolled out of you, the sound ending on a hiccup. You threw your head back over your shoulders, looking up at what you could see of the sliver of sky in the alleyway. 

"Of course it’d fucking rain," you mumbled. "Anything else to make this night fucking worse, right?"

"Are you alright?"

Heart speeding in your chest, your head whipped in the direction the voice had come from. Your vision continued to spin for a few seconds more at the movement before you could see who'd spoken. You spotted a dark figure at the far end of the alley. The fear you were feeling only increased as your brain gradually recognized that it was the man in black standing a few feet away, his masked face focused on you. 

Because of course tonight could get worse. 

You tried to back up, to get away, but your balance was off from the alcohol and you’d only managed to fall backwards onto your ass. The man immediately raised his hands, staying right where he was.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quickly.

You’d drank too much and were currently far too fearful to even begin to understand why his deep, gravelly voice sounded like it was laced with something like hurt when he’d spoken. 

“Then what d’you want?” you slurred out, trying to keep your voice even as rain began to dampen your hair.

“I heard you crying,” he called out, his tone somehow softer. “I–I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

Fresh tears pooled in your eyes, another humorless laugh falling out of you. “Not in any way you’d care about,” you muttered.

The man in black took a tentative step towards you, his hands still raised in front of himself like he meant no harm. You tensed, eyes fixed on him.

“Try me,” he replied.

Your eyes narrowed as he took another careful step towards you. When you didn't react, he gradually began to close the space between you, moving slow in that form-fitting black suit you’d seen on the news and in the papers more and more recently. You were wary of him despite the reports saying he only brutally beat criminals, but he continued to move as if he was trying not to scare you away. As if he meant no harm. Part of your brain screamed danger the closer he came, but the alcohol you’d drank down was quickly quieting that warning. Because you weren’t alone right now and for some reason this vigilante’s presence was gradually easing the sting of loneliness you knew awaited you at your apartment. And for now, you were okay with that.

“No one tried to mug me,” you told him bitterly. “Or–or assault me or something. Nothing you’d probably be concerned about.”

“I’m glad to hear that at least,” he replied.

As he slowly came to crouch down in front of you, you saw the tension ease out of his shoulders at your words. You figured he must’ve been worried he’d stumbled on the aftermath of something along those lines, probably hoping to go chase down your assailant and pummel him before leaving him for the police. Unfortunately for him, nothing Liam did was truly worth the man in black's attention.

“What happened?” he asked, voice still pitched oddly low.

Drawing your legs up towards your chest, your focus dropped down towards your knees. “Found out my boyf–” you caught yourself, teeth gritting together before you changed your words, “–ex-boyfriend was cheating on me. Went over to surprise him tonight. Hadn’t seen him in a week. But he wasn’t alone.” 

You wrapped your arms around your legs, lowering your forehead to your knees as your eyes closed. The man beside you was quiet for such a long time that you’d thought maybe he’d left until you heard him speak again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sounding like it broke on the words.

You shrugged. “Told you ‘s’not something you’d care about,” you muttered. “Just a stupid break up.”

“I care that you’re alone, inebriated, and crying in an alley late at night,” he countered.

“You don’t know me,” you pointed out. “Why would you care?”

“Because it’s–it’s not safe,” he said, voice tense. “And I…care that you’re upset.”

You scoffed in response, shaking your head along your knees. “You don’t know me,” you reiterated sharply.

“I still care,” he stated.

Turning your head, you rested your cheek along your knees. The man in black was sitting beside you, his own legs drawn up to his chest, his muscular arms wrapped around them. Something about him seemed safe even though nothing about him should have felt like that.

“That’s not even the worst part,” you said, the alcohol causing the words to just fall out of you. “The cheating and the break up. ‘S’not even the worst part of why I’m upset.”

This man was a stranger, what did it matter what you told him? He wouldn’t give a shit. Hell, he probably wished you’d stop talking.

His head tilted to the side at your confession, though. Something about the movement felt oddly familiar but the thought quickly left your mind almost as soon as you’d had it.

“What is then?” he asked.

The tears came on their own now, freely falling down your face. Matt’s handsome face from earlier came to your mind. You remembered that smile on his mouth when you’d gone to hug him goodbye earlier. You could still recall the scent of him–always some sort of detergent. He rarely ever used cologne or anything else. He’d told you he was sensitive to scents and they often gave him a headache. He’d told you many things over the years, and somehow even the smallest details had you falling even harder for him.

That hollow ache was throbbing in your chest again. It physically hurt when you thought about how badly you wanted him.

“I’m still in love with my best friend,” you admitted weakly. “And I shouldn’t be.”

You buried your face back into your knees, unable to control the sobs that began to shake your body as you cried. It had hurt you to see Liam with that other woman tonight, there was no denying it, but it hurt you even more to know that all you wanted still was Matt. That you could never seem to let those feelings go. Even in a relationship. Even grieving the end of one. 

You just wanted Matt.

“I just wish I could make it stop,” you choked out. “But nothing makes it go away.”

It took you by surprise when you felt a tentative hand come to rest on your upper back. You sniffled loudly, drawing your head from your knees to look at the vigilante beside you as a few drops of rain continued to lightly fall on the pair of you. Between the mask and the darkness of the alley, you couldn’t see much of his face, but you could see his mouth was twisted in a way that looked pained.

“I know how that feels all too well,” he confessed, his own voice thick with emotion.

Brows drawing together on your forehead, you stared at him in surprise for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to say that. But as it dawned on you that you weren't alone experiencing this type of painful situation, you gradually sent him a sad smile in return.

“What’re they like?” you asked. “The friend you’re in love with.”

You watched as his mouth twitched at the corner a few times, like he was torn between smiling at the thought of whoever it was, but also still struggling with the weight of the pain of those unrequited feelings. 

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed out, emotion heavy in his voice. “Never met anyone like her before. The biggest heart. Sharp mind. And a–” he paused to chuckle, “–a surprising sense of humor. There’s just something about her that I’m drawn to over and over. I can’t seem to stop it either.”

You turned further towards this stranger, his gloved hand still resting comfortingly on your back. You curiously eyed his masked face in silence for a moment.

“Why don’t you tell her you love her?” you finally asked.

The smile that spread on his lips in response looked sad. 

“I feel like I have in many ways without ever saying it,” he replied, shaking his head. “She doesn’t see it. But I’m certain she’s in love with someone else. She’ll…never want me.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, your heart breaking for this stranger. “I’m sorry.”

His lips were visibly trembling now, the sight stirring something in you. He must really love this friend of his to be so emotional spilling his heart out to a strange, drunk woman crying in an alley. 

“Why don’t you tell your friend?” he asked.

His voice sounded a bit off when he’d spoken, almost like he’d been about to cry. You figured it was his own emotions trying to get the best of him as you shrugged.

“I can’t,” you answered. “We’re friends. And that’s all he ever seems to see me as. I’m not the one he wants. I’m never the one he wants.”

Tears began to fall down your cheeks again, your attention dropping back down towards your knees. The masked man surprisingly drew you towards him, his hand on your back pulling you straight to his chest. You didn’t even fight him when he did. You’d weirdly bonded with him in an alley this evening over the unreturned feelings of love for your friends. Now you were hugging the man in black, crying into his shoulder. His hands were soothingly running along your back in a way that felt oddly intimate for a stranger, but as your fingers dug into the thin material of his black shirt, rain still lightly falling down around the pair of you, you found that you didn’t care. It felt nice being in his arms and you weren’t about to question it after the night you’d had. 

You’d stayed like that for a while, uncertain how long it had actually been, until you’d eventually stopped crying. But when you’d suddenly become overcome with the urge to kiss him–a stupid , drunk thought that crossed your mind–you pulled away just as fast as he seemed to. 

“I should get home,” you mumbled, feeling oddly uncomfortable about that thought you’d just had.

“Of course,” he said, pitching his voice low again.

He rose to his feet in a fluid, smooth motion. It looked so graceful that you’d sat there stunned for a moment. His hands lowered down towards you, hovering just before your face. For a moment your eyes dropped down and lingered on the black gloves. Cautiously you placed a hand in each of his and let him pull you up to your feet. One of his hands released yours, quickly coming to rest against your shoulder, steadying you when you swayed until you’d regained your balance.

“Thanks for…whatever this was,” you said, your eyes trying to find his behind that dark fabric.

His mouth pulled up in a small smile in response, his head briefly nodding. “I hope tomorrow is a better day for you,” he said. 

Turning slowly, you began to make your way out of the alley and back towards the street. You wiped the back of your hand across your eyes as you walked, pausing only when you reached the sidewalk. Looking back into the darkened alley, you felt your heart sink when you saw it was empty. Movement on the building above you caught your eye and you looked up. 

The man in black was crouched on the edge of the roof, his masked face focused on you. He raised a single, gloved hand in a wave. Slowly you lifted one of your own, returning the gesture and finding the entire interaction with him to be incredibly strange. 

As you turned and made your way back home, the rain steadily beginning to pick up, your thoughts inevitably returned to how you were once again single and still pining for your best friend. Forever hopelessly in love with a man who would never return your feelings.

At least the alcohol you'd drank tonight would help you forget some of what happened this evening. For that you were grateful.