#charlie cox imagines

[websterss]

THE LOVE THAT WAS ALL ALONG (1) — TRISTAN THORN

SUMMARY: What Tristan expected to be a normal nightly visit to your bedroom, turns into one of questions and a burning desire to find out what you're keeping from him. There's just one problem, you won't tell him what's wrong.

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff

WORD COUNT: 3,827

PAIRING: Tristan Thorn x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you like it! Feedback is appreciated and always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Not a day passed without that of a pebble thumping against your bedroom window. All the while you tried to retain your focus back on your book. A second tap would soon follow after and you’d be forced to put your placemark within the center of the pages you failed to finish yet again for another night.

You release an annoyed huff as you go over to your windowsill and push the door of it open wide. You then look down and find the culprit responsible for disrupting your nightly reading.

His charming chagrin plastered on his face was making it difficult for you to stay angry. You can’t fight your very own smile as you shake your head at your best friend. “Most people would knock you know.” You tease.

“Where would the fun be in you opening a door?” Tristan quipped.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the response. Tristan always was the one to take extra measures, not needed at times too. “And what if I had simply decided to ignore you for the rest of the evening?” You ask. You raised a brow down at him.

“Then I would tell you that I’ve got about five more pebbles at hand and am only using a quarter of my strength.” He grinned.

You huff a laugh, knowing true and well in your gut he would do exactly that. Tristan was stubborn in the sense that he was determined to get his desired wishes no matter the cost. It was both a lovely and annoying trait of his. “You’re insufferable.” You say though your tone held no true malice, it was as if you simply stated a fact of life. “You wouldn’t dare break my window.” You pout.

It was only then that Tristan taunted you with a raise of his arm, twisting his body at his waist to ready his aim. A faint smirk slowly appeared on his face.

You gasp and quickly stick your hand out to stop him. “Okay! Okay! I yield!” You surrender, not needing to waste any energy playing out this silly game. You have had nights in the past where this very act had gone on for as long as two and a half hours. You were not looking to waste time. “Now will you get up here, you nuisance?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“No need to fuss I’m coming up to you.” Tristan breathed a laugh at your sudden withdrawal. Pride flooded within him as the same taunt worked on you once more. Last time, Tristan threatened to yell at the top of his lungs if you hadn’t let him up. Perhaps he should consider reusing it again.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he chuckled. Always so cocky, that Tristan. You watch as he starts to climb the side of your home like a spider, his movements are fluid and natural without a single falter. His hands grilled the edges to haul himself up and into your room. And suddenly your mind takes a wander to what else his hands could do. Clearing your throat you shake that thought away quickly as he easily swings inside. You take a second to look at him this time, the candles lit on your dresser allowing you to fully view his attire.

“You look nice?” You eyed him from head to toe.

Tristan looked down at himself then looked back up at you with uncertainty. “Are you asking me or telling him?” He emits a soft laugh. “Do I not look okay?”

You give a small laugh yourself, your eyes still roaming his figure up and down. “No, no. The complete opposite of not okay. Just a bit different than how you usually dress.” You state. Normally Tristan isn’t all about formalities, but he also can’t let a single piece of his untucked shirt be shown to any poor soul, not without his vest that is. This time around, he looked…presentable, and handsome with his nice dress shirt and coat, even the bowler hat he wore was a surprise to see. Though that was not a bad thing, it was quite lovely to see him less casual than normal. But the ‘why’ for such a change tonight had you questioning whether he was going somewhere, or worse yet to someone. The latter you didn’t want your thoughts to linger on much longer.

“Do you think the hat is a bit much?”

“You do look like quite the gentleman with it, I will say.” You muse, giving the brim of his hat a little flick with your finger. It was a nice hat, a fine black color, not too tall, not too short. “It's suitable for a young man. If I didn’t know any better I would assume you were off to see Victoria?” You tease. Only when he didn’t mirror your grin or faint laughter, did your heart begin to sink. Your smile fades into a thin line.

“I am…” He says with certainty.

Your breath hitches and for an aching moment, you forget how to breathe. Your chest becomes constricting with each second of silence passing between you two. You swallow hard trying to regain your senses quickly. Your throat feels painfully dry and the words stuck in it refuse to escape. “Y-you’re going to see Victoria?” You croak. It sounded weak, and a pang of self-disappointment hit you with how pathetic you sounded. Quickly you clear your throat to try sounding more nonchalant and failing quite horribly. “Tristan, you can’t be serious? She treats you poorly!” You mock with a laugh.

“I am quite serious. I’ve told you of my feelings for her. They remain intact and I am to tell her that I love her tonight.”

“You’ve told her that about a dozen times before already! And each time she has tossed you aside like a crumpled piece of paper. She never takes you seriously.” You sigh, shaking your head. Your face twisted with sadness and frustration. It broke your heart every time to see your best friend rejected in such a horrid and cruel way. And for a woman, one who didn’t truly care about him, who was only in love with the idea of gaining another man's infatuation. You knew there was no changing his mind, his persistence didn’t allow for opinions to falter his plans. That damn determination of his. “And each time you go running back to her.” You murmur under your breath.

“She just doesn’t know it yet, but we are meant to be!” He exclaims. Reaching forward to hold you on your upper arms. “I’ll get her to see me as I am, as the man who can show her how loved she is. I’m going to prove my love and devotion to her. I’ll do a grand gesture. Something big will surely convince her.”

Your heart feels a pang at the way he speaks about her. He is so utterly convinced, so foolishly hopeful for someone who will not reciprocate his love. Part of you can’t help being envious of Victoria with how much he truly cares for her. You wish only he could see that you’re right here in front of him and that you could be the one to make him truly happy. To give him the love he wishes for Victoria to reciprocate. But he’s stubborn, much like you. “That isn’t love though, Tristan…Love shouldn’t come from only one half.” You ask. You raise a hand to touch his cheek, his big brown eyes watching you with turmoil and confusion. Perhaps he thinks you don’t understand, and maybe you don’t. Who would understand why someone would continue to pursue a woman who showed nothing but unrequited love? “Why does it only need to be you making grand gestures? What has Victoria done to show you she is just as much interested in you and your time as you are about her?”

“She doesn’t need to—“

Your head snaps up at his response. “Doesn’t need to?!” You exclaim. The bitterness in your tone surprised you as much as it startled him. “That is the entire point of any relationship! It is effort and commitment from both ends!” Your eyebrows are furrowed and you find yourself clenching your fists at your side, fighting the urge to grab his collar and shake him. You have never been so utterly annoyed, so frustrated with him. Your stupid little hopeless in love, Tristan.

“I have a plan. It will all work out, believe in me, Y/n.” He pleads.

Your shoulders sag and a heavy exhale leaves your lips. Of course, your rationalism would not get through to him. You don’t even know why you thought for a moment that it could make him realize the flaws in his logic. “I always do,” You say at last. “But it never gets easier to see you like this, Tristan.” Your tone had softened at the end. You place a hand gently on his chest, right over his heart. “I always carry your best interest at heart with me. You know this of me. I simply prefer not to see you get hurt, especially by Victoria.”

“I know you do. Where would I be if it weren’t for you and your beautiful heart?” He attempts to make light of this heartbreaking conversation.

Your lips twitch at his poor attempt to lighten the mood, yet you can’t help but be touched by the thought. You would always be there for him no matter what. “You know exactly where you’d be, right in some sort of trouble that you’d get yourself caught in, and wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of.” You tease. Your thumb gently rubs his chest against the fabric of his shirt. “I’d have preferred it, you getting into trouble, anyone else would have sufficed though, just not Victoria, anybody else but her.” You admit.

“Why do you dislike her so much?”

Your hand slowly drops from his chest as your frustration comes back. “You need to ask that? She treats you horribly, Tristan. She takes your heart for granted!” You exclaim. Your arms are crossed over your chest now. “How many times has she laughed in your face when you’ve tried to win her affection? How many times has she brushed something you’ve gifted to her as though it was meaningless?” You raise a hand, your fingers slowly raising as you continue listing how Victoria has treated him poorly. “How many other men's hands has she accepted in front of you? She is completely unaware of how truly special you are.” How special you are to me, you wanted to say.

You were taken back when he leaned forward and pecked your temple sweetly. Your heart hammering against your chest as you met his soft gaze. “Tristan…”

He grins softly at your reaction. That one of surprise and embarrassment. You’ve always been such a sweet soul and he knew he could always get you flustered when he was touchy with you. He loved the way the warmth of your hands would travel up to your cheeks, and your gaze, how it would turn away timidly, but he found it endearing. No matter what he did to surprise you it always made your heart flutter. if only he knew just how much it affected you.

“Shhh.” He murmured, his hands coming around to wrap you up in a tight hug.

He stays close to you, his nose tucked into your locks. His hand raised to rest gently on your cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing gently over your soft skin. “Have I ever told you that you are the kindest, most compassionate person I’ve ever met?” He murmurs. His breath was warm on your skin as his breath lightly brushed against your neck. “Anyone would be the luckiest person in the world to have you, I’m lucky to have you in my life.” He breathes a smile. “You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I’m lucky to have met you.”

You wondered if he could hear your heart tearing in two.

“I’m your only friend Tristan. Remember I’ll always- love you as much as I hold your best interest.” You hesitate to admit it.

Your stuttering and wavering words are caught by him, and you hate how the very sound of your voice falters. You didn’t want to come off as fragile, but no matter what you could never hold together your feelings for Tristan.

His nose is still buried deep in your locks, his large hand now cups your cheek gently. He tilts your head to meet his eyes, a small smile on his face. “You alright?” He murmurs. You despised how well he could read you. Unlike the pages of your unfinished novel, your next moves were predictable. One little change of notation in your tone and he’d be bugging you until you caved into telling him.

“Never better…” You look away from his lingering concern. You don’t miss the furrow of his brows as he palms your cheeks, then your forehead with his calloused hands.

Tristan’s worried eyes roam your face, searching for a sign of distress but is unable to find any. With a frown he continues to keep his palms on your cheeks, he didn’t release you just yet. He was sure there was something not quite right with you. But what could be troubling you? He tilts your head up again, his deep eyes locked on yours now. He knew you weren’t telling the truth yet something prevented you from doing so. Even as much as he hated to admit it, he hated it, that you were being closed off.

“You look feverish…” He mumbles.

His hands then find your arms, pulling them away from where they are folded across your chest. He gently holds your hand in his, turning it so your palm faces the ceiling. He looks over the back of your hand, then the front, then back again. He then gently holds your chin with his index finger, tilting your head so you are forced to look at him again. “You’re all flushed.” He comments, worry etched upon his brow. "Y/n are you sure you're alright?"

"Tristan I am well, honestly." You grabbed hold of his wrist and held them in place. "Please don't fuss over me, it will only add stress to your visit with Victoria. Which you should be getting along to." You gasp as you look around your room.

Tristan frowns, clearly not believing your word. He wants to tell you no, that he doesn’t want to go and see Victoria anymore, at least not till he is certain you are well. He knew you well enough that you would be stubborn too, that you wouldn’t let him win this one no matter what he did, you never did when it came to your feelings.

He huffs. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.” He says. But he listens to you anyway. “You’ll be alright until I get back, will you? You promise?”

"With my entire heart." You muse then remember what you were in search of. "Oh yes, here." You walk over to the vase on your nightstand and remove the bouquet from where they sat all pretty. "You'll need these." You smile as if you hadn't just taken out your own flowers for his benefit.

Tristan raises a brow once you pull out the bouquet, tilting his head to the side. He recognized those as the flowers you had been arranging just last week. He raises his other hand up, placing it gently on top of yours. “Y/n, why would you give me your flowers? No, you went on a rant about how long it took you to find them. No.” He protests, his brown eyes wide with bewilderment. He tried to take the bouquet from your grasp, to put them back, but you held them tight, not allowing him to snatch them from you.

Tristan is taken back momentarily by your actions. You seemed to be determined for him to leave, but he couldn’t help but be grateful for your thoughtfulness. You were truly an angel sent to him and yet he could see it. He felt guilt for that as well.

Taking the bundle of flowers from your hand, he couldn’t help but admire them while you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. The flowers were gorgeous, and the petals were a mixture of white and a soft yellow. Daisy's. He took a quick sniff of them, the sweet scent of their fragrance filling his senses.

"They'll grow back…" You mutter as you fidget with a loose thread on your blanket.

Tristan looks up upon hearing your mutter, a hint of sadness in your voice. He watched you as you continued to tug at the loose threads on your bed uncoiling it from its knitted form. He wasn’t certain what had gotten into you, you weren’t acting like yourself. “Spring won't come for another two months, Y/n. You waited for them to be in bloom.” He says softly. “You put in a lot of time and hard work into the arrangement, it doesn't feel right. I don't want you to give them up for me." Tristan glances down at the bundle in his hand. "I can always get Victoria another."

"Right…yes of course." You huff with a faint smile tugged on your lips.

Tristan's eyes softened at your smile, no matter how much he wished for it, it didn’t reach your eyes. Something was off about you, yet you were keeping silent about it. He took a hesitant step forward, almost as if he were afraid to even touch you now. His eyes remained locked onto your form on the bed, his expression tight and thoughtful. “You’re acting unusual.” He murmurs.

"I've just been more tired than usual, Tristan. Nothing to worry your pretty head about." You try to make light of the tension.

Tristan is not having it. He would not brush off your strange behavior. Not when his gut was telling him something was wrong. You were not being honest with him and he knew it. His jaw clenches at your attempt to make light of his worries.

He moves over to kneel in front of you. He gently places the flowers down beside you on the bed before taking your hands into his own. His fingers gently rub over the back of your hands, his touch is tender and soft, just like he is. His eyes remained locked on yours, the worry in his gaze is evident.

"Tristan-"

Tristan softly shushes you, his fingers still gently caressing and massaging your skin. You’ve always known him as a stubborn and determined soul and you knew it as he began to cut you off. He wouldn’t let this go, he refused to believe you were ‘just tired’. Something was troubling you and he was not going to let it go. “You’re not just tired, Y/n. You expect me to believe that?” He says softly, his eyes searching your face. "Something has upset you and I intend to get to the bottom of it until I know."

"Well, you can't, not right now at least, you have a Victoria to win over."

Tristan’s head shakes. He wanted to laugh at your stubbornness but he knew that would be a terrible move. You were both equally hard-headed that was for sure. He sighs, you were doing your damndest to avoid talking about what was bothering you. His gaze softened, and his hold on your hands tightened ever so slightly.

“Y/n. Please.” He implores. “Just talk to me. You’re upset about something. Tell me what is bothering you."

"Tomorrow."

Tristan's shoulders slumped, it was clear he was defeated. But only for now. He knows you weren’t one to back down and knew there was no use in trying to get it out of you now. However, that wouldn’t stop him from trying again tomorrow.

He looks down at where his hands are holding yours. “Promise me that tomorrow, you’ll tell me. No more excuses or brushing it aside. I want to know what’s bothering you as soon as the day breaks even.” He quietly requests for the simple favor.

"I promise…Now- leave or you're opportunity of reaching a lifetime of happiness will surely close." You muster a laugh and begin shoving him off your bed towards the open window.

Tristan stands to his feet once you push him away from the bed. He doesn’t miss the way you’re trying to shove him out the window and away from you. He frowns at your persistence, he hates the idea of leaving you here, upset about something you won't tell him, yet he can’t fight your insistence to leave.

“Fine, fine.” He mutters. He begins to climb out of the window, turning his head once more to glance back at you. His smile reached the corners of his eyes. “Tomorrow. I'll find you.”

You go to grab one of your pillows, aiming it ready to throw it at his face. Your throw a failed miscalculation as it lands before his feet. Tristan does his best to maintain his chuckle. "That…is very upsetting. It is nowhere near my head let alone near myself."

"Out!"

Tristan rolls his eyes at your command. “Yes, yes.” He mutters, and with slight reluctance, he turns to finish his descent out of your window. He glances up for a moment, locking eyes with you, the soft smile is still on his face. "You better rest up. You won't get rid of me so easily tomorrow. I'll be even more of a nuisance. Keep the flowers, I'll find more." He teases with a crooked grin, then is out of your view.

"Oh, joy..." You finally let your shoulders fall as you slump back against your pillows, the muscle ache and tiredness you felt throughout your body becoming more prominent. You forgot how easily you forgot about your state, especially when Tristan was able to distract you from the pain.

Tristan’s concern only grows as he takes notice of the way you blow out the candles almost immediately as he hits the ground. His brows furrow at your hurried state to have him leave, to go to Victoria, and to dismiss any chance he had to talk with you through what you are currently struggling with. It was eating him alive and it was making him second-guess treading down the streets to Victoria's house. He grips his hat, sparing your window one last glance before placing it on top of his head. Pocketing his hands for the walk away from your bedroom window and towards the girl he loves. Yet he can't help but let the nagging feeling of guilt eat at him as he puts one foot in front of the other.

[l0vergirlwrites]

you’re losing me ; matthew murdock

warnings: pure angst, swearing, matthew is kind of a douche,

song inspo: “you’re losing me” by taylor swift

your mouth felt dry. it was hard to swallow your fear. your skin felt hot. the room felt smaller than normal.

the tension in matthew’s apartment was growing thick, like a cold morning fog. he wore a scowl on his face.

“say something! you need to say something” he broke the silence, standing up from the couch to stand across from you in the kitchen, but you held a hand up to stop him.

“no,” you halted. “just… no” you croaked, hands gripping the countertop to hold yourself up. your knees felt weak, like they were jelly. adrenaline was running through your veins as your stomach dropped to your feet.

“y/n, you know i wouldn’t cheat… you know me, cmon” he shook his head, adamant that you’d believe him. but you weren’t so sure.

“do i?” you asked aloud, as if you were trying to get matthew to rethink his words.

“because the matthew murdock i know wouldn’t lie to me about trailing around the city with his ex? or would he? oh my god…” saying the words out loud made you cover your face in your hands, heart banging against your rips as it started spiralling.

matthew just scoffed at your behaviour, causing you to raise your head up. “what? what is your problem matthew?”

“i knew you wouldn’t understand…” you stopped listening after he said those five words.

he’s been like this for weeks now, acting like you hardly know him as well as the lover from his past—but he’d say it in such twisted ways. you knew it was her influence—the power she had over him was unbearably strong. but, a little part of your heart had hoped that he wouldn’t act like this—that your matthew wouldn’t diminish you like this.

you knew his daredevil work was important to him, as well as defeating the hand. but the way hes explaining it to you as if you were incompetent in comparison to electra made this your final straw. the dam broke inside you, & you couldn’t stand to have your heart broken again.

“stop,” you cut him off loudly. “just stop it. you’re losing me matt—i-i can’t listen to your bullshit anymore” your voice croaked again when you pushed yourself off the countertop, brushing by matthew’s body quickly towards the bedroom.

“don’t like what i have to say? you’re going to walk away? like this is nothing?!” matthew followed you, the scowl on his face ever so present in your mind.

“don’t you dare act like i treat our relationship as anything but a priority. that’s mean matt, & you know it” your voice was on the edge of being ice cold, it’s freezer burn itching matthew’s skin as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

you continued grabbing your purse. your keys. your wallet. your spare clothes. your phone charger. your toothbrush from his bathroom. you took it all.

“this is ridiculous” he deadpanned, walking over & grabbing your upper arm. “stop packing. don’t leave—“

“don’t touch me” you jerked away from his touch, pushing his hand off your arm in a flash.

matthew’s brows furrowed in offence. he was left speechless for a second.

“then talk to me!”

turning to face him, you elicited a sigh & crossed your arms. “okay, let’s talk”

“i’m unhappy. i feel lied to & pushed away as a second thought. i know you love me, but you act like you love her more—you let her sleep in my clothes on my side of the bed for god sakes matt… what do you expect me to do with that?!” you poured out your feelings to him, eyes glossy & head ringing with a headache as you gestured to your shared bed.

“she was hurt—she almost died y/n! what? do you want me to say i’m sorry for saving her life?”

“that will never justify you not being honest with me… especially when we’re engaged! why can’t you understand?” you stepped closer to him, crossing your arms tighter to your chest. your voice grew quieter with your last words, hoping you’d get him to see your point of view.

he still gripped his black mask in his left hand. it made you laugh internally. bet he wants to be out there than here right now….

“you’re hurting me matt… can’t you see where i’m coming from? or sense it? you’ll fight for her, risk your life for her… but you can’t fight for me? or choose me?”

matthew felt his heart drop as realization started kicking in, but he was stubborn. he didn’t want to be wrong about this. “i don’t understand—i was trying to protect you y/n… i-i…” unsure of what to say, matthew just stood there at arms reach.

tears were slowly falling down your cheeks as you scoffed at him this time. “you think lying is equal to protecting? not like this… definitely not like this”

“but you’re the one i’m marrying—i’m your fiancé. doesn’t that show that i choose you?” matthew’s point was valid, so you sighed in slight agreement.

“but, you’ve cancelled on me multiple times. you’re barely here! i sleep alone, cook alone, clean alone, shower alone… you’re only here when you need something for her. that doesn’t feel like you’re choosing me”

brushing past him again with your purse in hand, you walked towards the apartment door. “hey, where are you going?” he questioned, trialing behind you with determination.

“away”

“when are you coming back?”

the sound of your engagement ring being placed on the credenza echoed in the apartment. “i don’t know” you swallowed again when you took your hand away from your ring, knowing matthew wasn’t taking your action well.

“no—no. don’t go” he pleaded with you, his hand coming up to brush your arm but you stepped away.

your heart strings were pulling. you didn’t know it’d be this hard. “i can’t marry you if you act like you don’t want me—like you don’t love me. i’m not putting myself through that anymore” you had to turn your back to him because it got too hard to look at his melancholic expression.

he stood there like a statue—still with no movement. matthew wanted to pull you into his arms, tuck his head into your neck & keep you close. but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t. he had to let you go.

“you know, it’s kinda funny,” you commented with your hand on the door knob. “you fight your clients & you’ll fight for the city, but you can’t fight to make me stay, or prove me wrong… you’re just letting me go,”

you looked at him again, seeing how he was a shell of the man you grew to love over the last few years. this felt wrong—the whole situation felt so wrong. but you had to do this for you. he needed to get his life together.

“i just thought you’d try harder than this, murdock”

& with that, you pulled the door open & stepped out of the apartment with a heavy heart. matthew stood there stunned as he heard you push the elevator button, walk inside the compartment, & sigh when the doors closed.

he slid down the door frame, holding his head in his hands with his fingers tightly gripping his hair. he felt angry. disgusted with himself. but he felt even worse when he heard your quiet sobs from the elevator.

he lost you. his daylight—& now all matthew had was the loneliness of midnight.

you lost your daylight too, but you lost it a while ago.

[kendallsroyco]

I need someone to show Charlie this tweet 💀

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 1

(Eventual) Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

gif by me

summary: Two pink lines stared back at you and began to blur in your vision as tears welled in your eyes. Shit. You think back on one of the possible encounters with Frank that could have resulted in this.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio) AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Mention of pregnancy. Unprotected P in V, Oral mention, aftercare. Pet names. Angst.

wc: 2,144

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against the back of your thighs as you sat there waiting. A welcome relief to how intensely it felt like your body was producing nervous sweat.

17 more seconds.

You squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves. Your leg bounced up and down as you waited, feeling like the seconds dragging on were taking an eternity.

It was only a few days late. Okay maybe like a week. Or two. You’d lost count. But it was so unlikely.

You were just stressed, that’s all. There had to be an explanation.

Your birth control was 99% effective according to the doctor. And you had absolutely taken it every day. Right? Right. Maybe.

There couldn’t be any way.

You jolted at the sound of the timer on your phone and scrambled to silence it while also lunging for the little plastic stick balancing on the corner of the sink.

You held it with both hands in front of you.

Two pink lines stared back at you and began to blur in your vision as tears welled in your eyes.

Shit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A few weeks earlier

The moan started in the back of your throat and died just as it escaped your lips, muffled by the scratchy fabric beneath you where your cheek was pressed into. The flesh of your rear was hiked in the air and reverberated with a slapping sound each time Frank thrust into you harshly over and over. His grasp was firm, each hand anchored to where your waist met your hips. Mindlessly pulling you back into his body in a counter to his rhythmic movements.

“Just one more sweetheart” he cooed “Just need to feel one more from you.”

Your knees ached and your hip joints were starting to lock up, but you didn’t even dream of tapping out, too lost in the bliss of Frank pulling so many orgasms out of you tonight, you’d lost count. How long you’d thought of having him in a moment like this. Felt the tension between the two of you rise and rise until the coil finally snapped. Now the two of you were like animals, freshly freed from their cages and ready to pounce on each other until you collapsed in exhaustion under the dingy florescent lights of the small office in the abandoned warehouse where he was currently squatting.

His accommodations weren't particularly comfortable — the cinder block office of an abandoned electric company facility wasn't what one would call homey. Nor was the utilitarian and practical way he had it arranged, with floor to ceiling shelves of canned food and ammunition. You also wanted to make some snappy comment about the mattress on the floor with no bed frame, covered in worn bedding matching the singular lumpy pillow your face was now buried into as he fucked you mercilessly. Would this man ever allow himself a single damn comfort? A fuzzy blanket or even a throw pillow or a mug that didn’t look like it was dug up from a time capsule from 1982?

A firm slap on your ass had you whimpering as you clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Quit bein’ difficult baby.” he commanded

Baby.

Fuck, you shuddered at the mere sound of that word in his raspy, fucked out voice. It seemed almost unbelievable to you that you’d ever hear him call you that in this manner.

You weren’t trying to be difficult. It was just that you knew as soon as this was over, as soon as the two of you would lay there together in the afterglow, that things would change between the two of you and a conversation would need to happen. One you so desperately didn’t want because you knew where it would lead. You knew Frank would never allow himself the warm and fuzzy hallmark ending. So you held off on your orgasms as long as possible. Which wasn't easy to manage considering how psychically he was reading every ministration of your body.

Adjusting his position, his large paw of a hand came to rest on the back of your neck. Not with the pressure of a full on choke, but enough firmness to steer you as he please like the rudder of a boat. You felt the thump on the mattress as his foot anchored beside your aching leg. His new stance placed him on one knee, increasing his leverage and depth. He fucked into you as if he wasn’t just chasing your pleasure; it was as if he was trying to expel the demons of how he felt about you. Seeking with each punch of his tip against your cervix to rid himself of the guilt of whatever spark he allowed between the two of you to grow and grow until it turned into this.

The hand on your neck pulled your head upward so his other hand could reach around to press two of his thick digits between your lips, along your tongue, and down your throat.

That did it.

You groaned on his fingers as your cunt clenched around his cock. His feral roar rumbled from behind you a moment later as he spilled himself inside your still trembling walls. Just as the last of your heat’s spasms died down, you felt the comfort of his fingers leave your mouth and a trail of drool dribbled down your chin. With feather light precision, he replaced his controlling grip on your neck with his chapped lips and the bristle of his 5 o’clock shadow. He continued kissing down your spine. You let his journey guide you, lowering your body vertebrae by vertebrae until you were flat on your stomach, finally letting your muscles relax with a groan.

“Atta girl, baby.” he whispered, followed by one final kiss to the base of your lumbar.

There was that damn word again. Baby. Almost as if he…

I love you

The words wisped through your train of thought like a siren’s distant call.

Shut up, brain.

A satisfied hum escaped him as he flopped on the bed beside you. Cocky grin growing on his face, he rolled on his side and traced soft circles into the heated and sticky flesh of your arm.

“You good?” he inquired

You replied with a content mumble, watching as his soft eyes drank you in beside him.

“So good, Frankie.”

“So fuckin’ beautiful” he murmured, almost as if he didn’t even realize he was verbalizing the thought out loud.

Your heart froze up at his words. He thought you were beautiful.

I love you.

The three words you so desperately wanted to say danced on the tip of your tongue in the spaces of silence between inhales and exhales, threatening to spill out of your lips and inevitably lead to what you dreaded.

The conversation.

Frank sensed the shift, clearing his throat as he rolled onto his back and all the way into a sitting position.

“Stay put. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You tried not to let him hear the sigh that pushed from your lungs as you rolled onto your back, a physical release of the words you knew you felt but didn’t dare say.

He returned a moment later, clad in black sweat pants that hung low on his hips, and carried a damp grey washcloth.

“Ew, do I wanna know where that’s been?” you asked as he tapped at your knee, indicating for you to open your legs

“Can you not have a fuckin’ mouth on you for once? Tryin' to take care of you.”

You shrugged and parted your legs so he could clean you up.

“If you were a little less eager earlier, you could have known exactly what my fucking mouth is good for.”

“Christ.” he mumble with a sigh and a shake of his head, meeting your eyes with a smirk on his face

You couldn’t help but grin in return, noticing the flush rising in his neck and knowing it was you that got him all flustered. It was your favorite thing to do to Frank.

Well, after tonight, your second favorite thing.

You scrunched your nose with a giggle as he ducked back down, ever the focused Marine on the mission before him.

The washcloth hit the concrete floor with a splat as he finished and tossed it aside.

No sooner had you relaxed into the comfort of the bedding beneath you, still hazy and coming down from your bliss, a soft fabric something landed on your face. The projectile carefully aimed in playful retaliation for your previous comment. You swiped it away and sat as he climbed back onto the mattress beside you.

The faded olive sweatshirt he tossed at you was clearly old; the worn Marine’s emblem on the left breast and the holes along the sleeve banding indicative of it’s history of threadbareness. Still, it smelled like Frank, all comfortable and warm and familiar. As you slipped it over your head, you realized it felt like him too.

Just as you’d gotten the garment situated just right on your body, you felt the gentle pull of his arm around you. Drawing you against his chest, he pressed a kiss into your hair. His embrace, much like his sweatshirt, was warm and comfortable.

It was still. Silent and content in the air surrounding the two of you and what had just transpired. Maybe you could be at peace with how things had just changed between the two of you.

And then at your eye level came his hand, fiddling with the gold ring he wore on a chain around his neck.

A reminder of why you couldn’t bring yourself to say the three words that had been echoing in your conscience all evening. Why if you dared speak them, you’d never hear him say them back. Even if it was what he truly felt. It would only break your heart more than he was about to.

The calmness you’d just been feeling whooshed out of you like a hot air balloon popping and deflating.

Neither of you spoke yet, but the clicking of his tongue let you know he was trying to find his words.

“Sweetheart… I…” he stumbled

“I know. I shouldn’t have…” you trailed off

“No, hey. It’s just—”

You cut him off.

“Your dead wife.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry.”

“It ain’t just that. Look,” he paused, still finding the line between expressing his feelings and not crushing you completely “the life I live, it ain’t... I mean I just can’t have someone waiting with the porch light on for me. You know?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Frank, when have you ever known me to be the type—”

“I know, I know. But, baby,”

Stop fucking calling me that.

“You’re just too damn good.”

“Oh don’t give me the ‘you’re too good for me’ spiel Frank. You’re better than that.”

“It ain’t a lie though.”

He sat upright, undoing the arm that was around you to fully face you.

The soft way he caressed your thigh and the earnest look in his eyes was almost enough to make you forgive him for whatever he was about to say.

“I had my shot you know? Had it all and I blew it. Can’t tell you how many times she begged me not to go back, but I thought I had time. Thought they’d always be there. I had to keep goin' back and back and then they got taken. Finally decided I wasn’t goin’ back and didn’t even get a day with them then they were just gone.”

You had to look away from his piercing brown eyes, or the tears would start flowing and you just couldn’t bare to let him see you cry. Not now. You’d never heard Frank speak so candidly about what happened to his family, always skirting around the topic as if he was trying not to fall into the mouth of a volcano.

“And now,” he continued “I’m just this now. I don’t know if I can go back to bein’…”

Normal. Happy. In love with someone who isn't her.

He licked at his lips as his words began to falter again, thoughts coming out choppy and all over the place.

“… and you deserve, you deserve someone who can give you that, you know?”

“I don’t want that.” you replied, finally finding some courage to meet his gaze again

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t get to decide for me what you think I should or shouldn’t want, Frank! God, you always think you’re right and it pisses me off.”

“Hey. Shhh.” he cooed, trying to pull you back into his arms again

But, you resisted.

“I should go.”

“No, no. Hey.”

His firm hand reached up, cradling your chin and turning your face to his.

“Stay? Just for tonight?”

Those goddamn brown eyes.

“Okay.” you contested

Maybe you could keep pretending this was real until the morning.

next chapter

TAG LIST: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore

[biisexualemma]

forget it. matt murdock

word count: 3.3k

requested: nope

warnings: none but a bit of angst

plot: matt kissed you and told you to forget about it

a/n: i confess that i've had this hidden away in my drafts for a very, very long time with 90% of it written up :/ but nevertheless it's here now and you can give it a read and let me know what you think. personally i LOVE this fic and deeply love matthew murdock, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

masterlist

"hey!" you beamed, entering the familiar bar full of familiar smells and faces. you immediately encountered the strawberry blonde who's face lit up when she saw you.

"you came!" she cheesed, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tight. you laughed, squeezing her back an appropriate amount. "i thought you told foggy you couldn't make it?" she quizzed, forever the detective.

"i know," you admitted, pulling out of the hug so you could see her lovely blue eyes, your hands still touching her forearms. "guess i changed my mind-- i couldn't miss your birthday celebrations, what kind of friend would i be?"

"a terrible one. i'd have been bad mouthing you all night," she wore a teasing smile, eyes glistening like they always did. they glanced away from you, locking onto something behind you when you remembered you hadn't arrived solo. "am i in need of an introduction?" she quirked an eyebrow, corner of her lip turning into a smirk as she eyeballed the brunette slowly coming up behind you, a hand snaking around your waist.

"oh, sorry, right," you babbled, your fingers touching your forehead at your forgetfulness and lack of manners. "this is my friend, patrick," you glanced at the man on your left who's eyes were focused on karen's inquisitive blue ones. "pat, this is karen."

"hey, nice to meet you," he held out his free hand for her to shake, which she took, offering a kind smile. your heart tightened at the interaction. "y/n's told me a lot about you."

"none of the embarrassing stuff i promise," you quickly added when she gave you a worrisome side eye, causing you to choke out a laugh. 

she seemed to glide right past this and straight into interrogation. "i didn't know you were seeing anyone?" she gave you another glance, trying desperately not to give away what she was thinking although it was fairly obvious to you. you were sure most people in this room were thinking the same thing. what about matt?

well, what about matt was that he kissed you drunkenly one night, and told you to forget all about it the next morning. so you did, though it broke your heart a little. you had only been in love with him the moment you laid eyes on him that first day at nelson and murdock and you always had a sneaky suspicion that he felt the same. based on the gentle way he spoke to you, his reassuring nudges when you were stressed over a case, soft creases in the corners of his eyes when you would laugh a little too hard at a joke foggy had made. karen and foggy teased you relentlessly about it for months, you brushed it off and matt would just shake his head and laugh. and then he kissed you, it was late, you both had been at josie's all night drinking and you helped him home because your apartment was only a block over from his, even though he insisted he was fine. you trailed with him up the steps, stopped outside his door and he stood to face you, swaying a little closer to you as the alcohol effected his balance. you grabbed hold of his forearms, giggling a little as you let out a soft woah there tiger, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

you hadn't spoken again since he caught you the next morning before work and told you that to remain professional you should both forget anything ever happened and move on. 

you tried to move on, you met patrick not long after but it didn't feel the same as it did when matt had kissed you. you suspected it never would. but patrick was nice, he was kind and he could be funny sometimes. there was no reason for you not to like him and enjoy spending time with him.

"it's still pretty new," you forced yourself to smile and lean into him affectionately no matter how unnatural it felt. you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, not spend it worrying about what other people were thinking. this was hard to do though when you had spotted him across the room the second you had walked into josie's.

you found it hard to engage in conversation, thankfully karen and patrick were both naturally very chatty people, and kept the conversation going despite your lack of involvement. you couldn't help your eyes trailing over to where matt stood, talking with foggy.

that was when foggy caught your eye, his eyes widening along with his smile as he waved madly at you before marching over. matt trailing behind his friend, looking a little lost. 

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, but you managed to catch patricks attention. he turned to you with a quiet hm? but it was too late, they were both here already.

"you told me you weren't coming!" foggy beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. you let out an uncomfortable laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're turning me into a liar," he teased as he pulled away.

"sorry," you breathed out a laugh, glancing at matt who stood carefully next to foggy and karen, quietly listening in on the situation with slightly furrowed brows. "it was last minute," you bit down on your bottom lip trying to disguise your discomfort.

"this is y/n's friend patrick," karen quickly changed the subject to avoid rehashing the same conversation. "they're new," she gave you a small wink like she was saving you the trouble of explaining everything again to more people.

matt let out a quiet hm which went unnoticed by most but not by you, you shot him a quick glare. you reached down for patricks hand and held onto it with your own. "this is foggy, and matt," you introduced, forcing a gentle smile. you watched patrick shake hands with foggy, before he moved to shake matt's hand. matt, however, just stood there, eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses, hands to himself.

"you have to be verbal with him, you know, talk him through your intentions" foggy teased his friend, a smirk lining his lips as he glanced at matt out the corner of his eye. "he can be a bit slow."

matt snorted, ducking his head to hide his laughter. patrick spluttered and froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. they really thought they were so funny. you rolled your eyes, pulling away from patrick for a second so you could slap matts shoulder and then foggy's. matt snorted a little harder at the contact from you, foggy frowning slightly as he rubbed the area you'd hit him. "both of you, knock it off,"

karen rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. 

"oh, relax, it was just a joke," foggy continued to rub his arm, his smile slowly moving back onto his face. "matt's blind, not slow. he can't see you or your handshake."

patrick's face was a picture, it almost made you snort out a laugh, but you held it in, biting down on the inside of your cheek. his mouth hung open, eyes wide like he had offended matt somehow when he in fact had done no wrong. matt and foggy just liked to have fun with this kind of thing.

"oh-- shit man, i'm sorry i didn't know--" he glanced at you for help and you couldn't help but crack a smile, quickly hiding it with the back of your hand. you reached out and touched his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, shaking your head. 

"we're just messing with you man," matt reassured, a smile lining his lips that looked a little too amused as he held out his hand for patrick to shake. "nice to meet you," he spoke with a tight jaw, his hand gripping patrick's a little too tightly. 

"pat, d'you wanna grab us a drink?" your hand still on his shoulder, you gave him a gentle nudge towards the bar where he stumbled off with a quiet yeah 'course. "you've probably just scarred him for life," you said to the group once patrick was out of ear shot.

the three of them burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. you had missed this sense of normalcy between the four of you that had been missing for a while.

-

"hey," matt mumbled, approaching you from behind almost as soon as patrick had left your side to grab a cab outside. he nudged your shoulder with his as he moved to stand in front of you, he leaned an elbow against the bar you were sat up at. "how you doing?"

you pulled your eyes away from his and down to your drink where they had been moments ago. "i'm fine," you said softly, carefully avoiding his vacant stare. even if they were covered by those red lenses, you found matt's stare incredibly hard to keep, he had a way of looking right through you. "you?"

"fine," he nodded, his voice raspy and quiet. you brought the glass in your hand to yours lips and sipped slowly, as he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. "is this how it's gonna be from now on?"

"don't know what you mean?" you sat your glass back down, gulping down on the lump on your throat.

"yeah, you do," he rolled his eyes slightly. he gripped the stool in front of him, that sat between the two of you. "i don't want things to be weird with us."

you shook your head, pursing your lips as you swirled the alcohol around in the glass. "why would things be weird?" you tried to play it off, but you gave yourself away with your fidgeting and quietness when you spoke. 

"because i kissed you, and i shouldn't have," he lowered his voice as he said, his head ducking slightly to grow closer to you. you glanced at him for a second but quickly pulled your eyes away again, shaking your head again.

"you said forget about it," you repeated his words back to him. "so i forgot about it, matt."

"we haven't spoken since--"

"we're speaking right now--"

"before tonight you haven't said two words to me-- you've been getting karen to send messages to me from the next room--"

"why'd you think that is?" you snapped, he was relentless and you couldn't listen to his guilty conscience any longer. "you were an asshole matt. what you did hurt, and i don't feel like forgiving you yet so you'll just have to deal with it for a little longer."

he was taken aback by your sharpness, he visibly retracted from you. you grabbed your drink and gulped back what was left in the glass. "i'm gonna go find my date," you slammed the glass back down and slipped off the bar stool and onto your feet, you shrunk in front of him. he wore a soft frown, his lips pressed tightly together. "see you in the office, matt."

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. you glanced down at his soft grip on you before meeting his stare. "don't go with him," he muttered only to you, his jaw tense. "i'll take you home."

you yanked your arm free pretty easily, he wasn't holding onto you very tight. he was giving you mixed signals and it was making everything that was swirling around inside your head much harder to deal with. "it's not funny to mess with me like this, matt," your voice cracked slightly, breaking your hard front you had put up with him. "leave me alone."

-

patrick had picked up on your change in mood on the drive back to your place but didn't want to ask what had caused it for fear of having to discuss it. he dropped you off without a word on the matter, kissed you goodnight and didn't try to invite himself in.

you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, head resting against them and your eyelids drooping. you were so tired from the events that occurred that night but your mind was so busy it was keeping you awake.

you really hated matt right now. he was so selfish for acting the way he did, he didn't seem to care how you felt about any of it. he'd made the decision to forget about it, and that was that. only to send you mixed signals tonight. it made no sense.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes when there was a knock on the door. you climbed up and over the door, confused as to who would be knocking on your door this late at night. maybe patrick had forgotten something.

you peeped through the hole in your door, letting out an exasperated sigh when you saw matt on the other side. hesitating with your hand loosely on the door handle, your groaned and quickly swung the the door open.

"what are you doing here, matt?" you asked quickly, head resting against the edge of the door. you features turned into a soft frown, as you watched him jittery in front of you.

"i didn't want to leave things between us like that," he confessed. "you're my friend and i don't want you to hate me because i did something stupid."

his eyebrows raised, creating creases in his forehead, his cane was propped against the wall and his hands expressively trying to show you just how much he meant what he said. his eyes were hidden behind those glasses but you could figure out just about how they probably looked. buggy and intense, like the rest of him. 

"will you shut up and come inside, i have neighbours and i don't want them to hate me," you yanked his shirt and pulled him into your apartment along with his cane. you let out a deep sigh when you shut the door behind the both of you, turning you found matt not too far behind you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"i don't hate you," you said after a brief silence but he gave you a frown that wasn't convinced by what you'd said. "i don't... i'm mad at you, and i don't think you can blame me."

"i know but i want to fix this," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "i really want to fix this because i can't stand you being mad at me," he removed the glasses from his face, his familiar glossy brown eyes appearing from behind them. "i'm used to having you around, bugging me and foggy and making jokes to lighten the mood in really heavy cases. you're sweet and kind and everything that i can lack sometimes when i don't have you there to keep me in check," he was letting loose.

"c'mon matt," you shook your head. "i miss how things were in the office but you clearly don't understand the gravity of what you did, so i can't just go back," you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a huff of air, your eyes so tired and your body exhausted from having this conversation so many times with him.

"i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he admitted, his eyes distant but focused at the same time. "when i kissed you, it was impulsive and stupid. i wasn't thinking about how it would change things, all i could think about was you."

you shook your head. matt stood silently, eyes unfocused as he listened to your rapid heartbeat.

"i'm tired, matt," you sighed, a small frown falling on your lips. "i've had enough of this for one night, you're really messing with my head."

"i'm not doing this to mess with you," he took a couple steps closer to where you were standing near the door. he listened to your uneven breaths as he grew nearer. "i was being selfish when i kissed you— jeez' and i still am now."

he ran the palm of his hand over his face as he came to the realisation that he was only continuing his selfish rampage by being here in your apartment right now. "i'll go," he mumbled, his head falling down, his gaze directed towards the floor now. "sorry for being a jerk."

you, amidst matts outburst, stood quite still, your mouth hanging open slightly as his words replayed in your head. you tried to speak but you couldn't think what to say, everything about this was so confusing.

he brushed your shoulder as he walked around you and pulled at the door handle to leave, but you quickly, without hesitation, pushed the door shut again before he got any further.

"wait a minute— why do you think i'm mad at you?" you eyebrows knitted together the longer you thought about what he'd said.

"'cause i kissed you," he repeated, his hand lingering near the door as if he was expecting this conversation to go south.

"and you were being selfish because?" you asked him to clarify, your chin touching your shoulder as you glanced over to look at him.

"because... i was so caught up in wanting to kiss you, that i didn't even consider whether you wanted me to," he felt like you were dragging this out now just to humiliate him. 

you were quiet for a moment, twisting the rest of your body around so you could look at him properly again. his hands clutched onto his cane, eyes hidden behind the red lenses he'd propped back onto his face but you could see the frown, the confusion in his expression.

"matt," you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself to smiling. you wanted to slap yourself for being so blind, matt you couldn't blame. he hummed. "i was mad at you for telling me to forget about it. not because you kissed me."

his expression softened, it was a sight to behold. the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, but unsure, his eyebrows knitted for a split second as he tried to form his words into something coherent. "wait— so you—"

"—wanted you to kiss me, you idiot," you rolled your eyes, letting out an amused snort. 

"you're kidding," his words came out slow, his brain ticking over as he caught up with you. "i only told you to forget about, thinking that's what you wanted."

"i haven't been able to forget about any of it," your voice soft, unsure still of where this was going.

matt was quiet for a moment, you could see his brain working through the stages until he spoke again, his smile slipping for a second. "what about pat?" he put some emphasis on the nickname, almost making fun.

"patrick never kissed me like you did, murdock," you shook your head softly, hopeful in your attempt to convey just how stupid you'd been in all of this. "in fact, you all did a good job of scaring him off tonight. i think he realised he was getting involved in something far more complicated than he signed up for, he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"he was an idiot anyway," matt's smirk slowly crept back onto his lips. "not good enough for you," you took a solitary step closer to him when he said this.

you hummed. "and you figured that out from a five minute conversation with the guy?"

"i know you, y/l/n," he matched you, taking a step closer, now only a few inches apart. you hummed again, watching as he stared right though you. it was in your nature to argue with him on this, but he was right. matt murdock knew you better than anybody, and he was still here, waiting for you. "he was too nice for you."

you cocked an eyebrow, your hand reached out and grabbed his tie between your fingertips, pulling it ever so gently. you hummed again. "and what would that make you, murdock?" you were teasing when you said it, but matt edged closer to you, moving with your tug of his tie. one hand jerked the bottom of your shirt, closing that last inch of space between you two, the other had moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

"i can be nice," his breath fanning your face now that you were in such close proximity, he heard your own breath get caught in your throat, lips parting slightly as his brushed against yours. "but not tonight." 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Someone pls sedate me. May I request Matt and Frank with a reader who bites them

Ohhhhhhh they’d be INTO this I fear. Thoughts below the cut! (I hope it’s ok I went a smutty direction with this. If you want something more fluffy I will happily write that too, just let me know!)

It’s widely known that Matt is a masochist, but Frank is too! And we all need to talk about that more. It would be good for society.

Anyways,

Whether it’s a sensory thing or a kink thing, the men might be surprised when you ask them but I think they’d READILY agree.

Matt is so turned on by the desperation lacing the edges of your question that he hands you a limb, cockily demanding that you “do your worst” while he thrusts into you.

I think Matt would looooove receiving hickeys. As much as he wants to mark his “territory”, his partner being possessive over him would be a HUGE turn on.

He’d run his fingers over the marks you left behind, working himself up allllll over again.

Frank on the other hand would be a bit more confused by your need to bite him, not that he’d object to anything you wanted from him. It wasn’t exactly going to cause lasting harm.

He’d let you gnaw away at him, grinning smugly when he could feel you moan against his skin “attagirl. Let it all out for me.”

Over time, you two would find a great rhythm. He would absolutely be working your need to bite into foreplay, exposing his shoulders/neck/whatever to you and raising an eyebrow. “Go on, doll. Know you wanna.”

This is all I have for now! Let me know if you want more!!

[storiesforallfandoms]

heatwave ~ matt murdock;marvel

word count: 3306

request?: no

description: in which a terrible heatwave has hit hell's kitchen, and it's leading to some lewd thoughts about her roommate

pairing: matt murdock x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (shower sex, oral - f receiving, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, matt asks for permission, a smidgeon of begging, naked cuddling afterwards but like...actually cuddling, not a euphemism)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was an unbearably hot day in Hell's Kitchen. Hot enough that it was making the "Hell" part seem a little too real. It was the type of hot that leaving the window open filled the apartment with heat, but closing it made the place feel like a heat box. There was just no escaping it.

I was grateful to have the day off because it was definitely too hot to work, but at the same time I knew my job had working AC. Matt and I had been saving up for a working AC unit, but it was difficult when other expenses kept getting in our way. Matt kept insisting that when he finally got promoted to a lawyer position, we wouldn't have to worry so much about the apartment expenses, but he and Foggy had been in the same position at Landon and Zack - and unhappily so 0 for so long that I was starting to double they'd get a promotion at that law firm specifically.

Either way, for now all Matt and I had was a shitty fan that blew just enough cold air to make living in this heat bearable. I was wearing my shortest shorts and thinnest tank top, laid out on our couch with the fan directly on me. I was still extremely hot to a point where I just wanted to crawl out of my skin as it felt like the only option.

I couldn't even bring myself to turn my head as i heard the front door open and shut. I knew who it was anyways, even without the familiar sound of Matt's cane folding up. When he did walk into my eyeline, I scoffed. "How are you walking around dressed like that?"

Matt was in a pair of long dress pants, a light blue button up - with no sweat stains, might I add - and his tie pulled tight to his neck. Looking at him alone was making me overcome with heat.

Matt chuckled. "I have no choice in the matter. Can't exactly walk into a law firm in daisy dukes and a wife beater."

I snickered at the idea of Matt Murdock in daisy dukes.

I met Matt over a year ago after he had responded to my "roommate wanted" ad. My last roommate had moved out suddenly with very little notice, leaving me to try and pay rent for the apartment on my minimum wage salary. So to say I was desperate for a roommate is an understatement. Still, I was a little hesitant to answer Matt's response to my post. He was a strange man, and it was just me in the apartment. A girl can't be too careful in this day and age. But, again, I was desperate, so I agreed to meet up with him to discuss moving in.

Imagine my shock, and slight relief, when a well dressed, blind man introduced himself as an intern at Landon and Zack, and was also needing a roommate as his internship didn't pay enough to cover rent at his own place, plus his student debt.

The next week, he was moving into my apartment.

I liked Matt. He was easy to get along with, and he pulled his weight around the apartment. And in general, he was a nice guy. I liked hanging out with him, and with Foggy whenever he was over, too. I did feel like I hit the jackpot for roommates with him.

Matt made his way to his room. In the process, I noticed him pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I tried not to be so obvious in my staring, until I remembered he couldn't actually see me staring at him.

Okay, yeah, I may have had fantasies about Matt. Can you blame me? He's a handsome man, and I am but a girl. Not like anything would happen between us. It couldn't happen. That'd make things incredibly awkward around the apartment.

When Matt came back out of his room, he was changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him navigate around the room, as if searching for something, before turning to me.

"You're hogging the fan."

I scoffed. "There was no one to hog it from until a few minutes ago."

"Well, there is now, and you're hogging it."

I rolled my eyes. "Just come sit on the couch, idiot. I'll position the fan so it's on both of us."

Matt moved slowly towards the couch. When we first started living together, I would often try to help Matt with things around the apartment, such as moving from point A to point B. I thought it was helpful, until one day Matt assured me that he could do things on his own.

"I have been blind for most my life," he had said. "I've learned how to live with it."

So, after that, I stopped helping unless Matt asked. Like now, just watching him navigate to the couch. When he got close enough, I sighed and extended a hand to him. "Grab my hand, ding dong."

He chuckled. "Ding dong? Are you 12?"

"Almost."

Matt took my hand and I slowly led him to the couch, then patted the cushion so Matt could hear where to sit. I didn't expect him to plop himself down so close to me, but he decided to sit so close that our arms were brushing against one another. I tried to ignore it by tilting the fan so it was blowing on both of us.

"We should get an inflatable pool," I suggested.

Matt chuckled. "And put it where? We live in an apartment building. We don't exactly have a backyard."

"Put it in the living room."

"I'm sure our landlord would appreciate that."

"It's not like he'd know. In all the years I've lived here, I think he's been by twice."

Matt tilted his head towards me. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're so no fun, Matt."

We fell into a silence that made me remember that Matt was sat so close to me. I tried to sneak a glance at him, and then once again remembered he couldn't see me anyways, so I allowed myself to look. I allowed myself to glance at the way his shorts were riding up, showing off his thigs. I allowed myself to glance at his arms, weirdly strong for a lawyer, and now with the added touch of sweat making him glisten.

God, I'm no better than a man.

I was suddenly a lot hotter, with a particular heat pulsing between my legs.

"You alright?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Matt's voice. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You're...quiet."

I chuckled. "Didn't know quiet was a bad thing."

"It's not, but you're...I don't know. There's something different about this silence."

"It's just hot."

I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. I just needed some distance before I did something incredibly stupid. I needed this heat to fuck off so Matt and I could put more clothes on and I wouldn't have to see so much of his skin that it turned me into a prepubescent boy.

I muttered something about showering before rushing to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. I wasn't actually sure about showering at first, but now that I was away from the fan I was starting to feel too hot and sweaty again. A cold shower wouldn't go astray, and I had definitely been sweating enough all day to warrant showering.

I turned on the shower, turning the cold tap almost all the way while turning the hot tap just enough to make it so the water wasn't bitterly cold. I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped under the cold water. I don't know how I hadn't thought of a cold shower before, but it was definitely the best idea. The downside was that eventually I'd have to get back out into the hot, humid air of the apartment, but for the time being I was content with standing under the cold water until my fingers and toes were prunes.

I wasn't paying much attention to anything besides how nice the cold water felt, otherwise I might've heard the bathroom door opening. I might've heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, joining my own discarded pile. But I definitely did not miss the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back, revealing a completely naked Matt Murdock.

I shrieked in shock, my heart racing a million miles a second from the scare.

"Matt, what the fuck?!" I snapped.

"You forgot a towel," he said, gesturing to the two towels he had laid on the counter.

"So you had to get completely naked to bring me some towels?"

"Well, to bring you a towel. The other is for me."

When he stepped into the shower, I tried to back away, but damn this small apartment with its small shower. There wasn't much further I could move from him without stepping completely under the shower head and practically drown myself. It took everything in my power to keep my eyes on his face and not to let them venture lower.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. I tried to sound forceful, confident, but instead my voice came out soft, nearly a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he was reaching for me. I knew I should've pulled away, or pushed him away, or insisted that he leave because this was definitely pushing a boundary that we should not cross as roommates. That's what I should've done. Instead, I let Matt's hands find my waist. I let him pull me to him, pressing our bodies together under the cold water. I no longer had to fight not to look down between his legs, because now it was pressed against me.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

"Your heart was racing," he said, like that answered everything.

"Yeah, you scared me. That tends to be the usual reaction."

"No, I mean earlier. One the couch. When I was next to you, it started beating harder and faster."

"How do you know that?"

"I could hear it."

If it were any other circumstances, I probably would've laughed at that. I probably would've made some quip about him having super hearing since he was blind. But my mind wasn't functioning properly. Not with Matt pressed up against me like that, holding me like that. His hands wandering over my body the way they were.

"We-we can't," I finally managed.

"Why not?"

"We live together, Matt. It'll make everything awkward."

"Or maybe we'll finally get rid of this tension between us and can find out how we wanna proceed afterwards."

Tension between us? Does that mean he's had the same thoughts I've had? Does he feel the same way I've been feeling about him?

My mind was rushing when Matt kissed me, so much so that I almost didn't register it at first. It was a shock, and then it felt right. I placed my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. One of his hands found their way to my hair, tangling in the wet locks to hold me in place, while the other drifted down my body until it came to rest on my ass. I could feel him pressed against my stomach, his hard cock twitching. In the time Matt and I had lived together, I had met all of his "girlfriends", who liked to brag about being with Matt because they were all threatened by his female roommate. I was glad to report that the bragging about what he was packing had not just been to make me jealous.

Matt tugged at my hair, which resulted in a gasp slipping from my lips. He smirked, and I just knew that bastard was making mental notes of everything that made me have involuntary reactions. He pulled my head back to expose my neck to him. He kissed my jawline and down my neck, nipping at areas that would certainly leave very visible marks later. He continued moving down my body, trailing kisses from my neck down over my chest, and giving ample attention to my breasts. I was now leaning against the shower wall, my head lulled back at Matt took each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, swirling his tongue around my already hard nipples. I gasped and moaned with each flick of his tongue. I held the back of his head with one hand, grasping at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon, Matt was on his knees on the tile shower floor. We had switched places, so the cold water was now cascading down on him. I was about to offer to move the shower head so he wasn't directly in the line of fire, but Matt cut me off by lifting my leg over his shoulder and immediately diving his tongue into my pussy. I cried out, both in shock and in pleasure.

I had been with a few guys in my lifetime, some of which didn't mind giving oral. But none of them could ever hold a candle to what Matthew Murdock could do with his tongue.

Within seconds of his head being between my legs, I had completely lost any sort of coherence. The only thing my mind could focus on was how good Matt's tongue felt running over my swollen clit; darting in and out of my pussy, as he was quite literally fucking me with his tongue; the feeling of his lips wrapping around my clit and gently sucking on it. It was like he knew exactly what I would like before I even knew. It wasn't long before Matt was holding onto my thighs as they began to quiver, holding me up as my orgasm washed over me. He kept lapping at my cunt, drinking in every drop of me that he could like a man starved.

My legs felt weak. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay stood. Luckily for me, I didn't have to. As Matt got to his feet, he kept hold of my leg. He pressed his body against mine, holding me in place. When he kissed me, I could still taste me on his lips.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked. His tone of voice was nothing I had ever heard from him before. It was full of lust and desire. His hard cock was resting against me, begging to get its own release, but he waited. He waited until I gave him permission.

It was the barest of minimums, but there was something about Matt wanting to hear me say yes that made the dull ache of post-orgasm turn into the tingly feeling of desire once again.

"Yes," I breathed. "Please Matt, fuck me."

He wasted no time in lining himself up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch of him as he filled me up. The stretch stung, but it felt so good. Once he was buried to the hilt inside of me, he took a moment to allow me to adjust to him. I watched as his face contorted in pleasure and I couldn't help but feel a little pride that I was making him feel this good, even if I wasn't the one doing the work.

"Fuck," he sighed. "Can I start fucking you?"

I nodded. Luckily he still had his forehead against mine, so he felt the approval instead of me having to say it outloud.

He started slow, pulling almost all the way out then pushing all the way back in. It was almost an agonizing pace. It felt so good, but every time he slipped everything except the tip out I felt hollow. He reached a spot inside of me that had only been reached a few times before, but with his pace he was only grazing it instead of constantly nudging it the way I wanted him to.

I was getting close to begging him to speed up. A desperate whine even slipped from my mouth when he pulled all the way out of me again. But this time, when he thrusted back inwards, it was fast and rough. The force pushed my ass back against the shower tile.

"Fuck," he breathed again. "I'm trying to make this last, but I really just want to fuck you until your legs are too numb to work anymore."

Another whimper. "Please."

"What was that?"

"Please fuck me," I said. "Fuck me however you want, Matt. I need it. I need it so bad."

He captured my lips in another kiss as he started thrusting into me at a ruthless pace. The sound of our wet skin colliding fill the room over the sound of the running water. It was lewd and naughty, and so good. It was something we'd never come back from as roommates, but I couldn't care less now. Nothing beyond this moment mattered.

Matt reached his other hand between us. He began to rub circles on my clit with his thumb. His thrusts changed slightly, just enough to hit that spot inside me in a way that drove me crazy. I had my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself up, but as I felt another orgasm building I knew I wouldn't be able to stay upright on my own. When the wave crashed over me, I threw my head back against the wall and cried out his name. It was more intense than the first one, so intense that my vision went completely white.

Matt's cock twitched inside of me, the only warning I had before he hit his own high. He buried himself inside me one last time, shooting himself so deep inside of me that I was sure I'd be full of him for weeks. He groaned in pleasure, resting his forehead against mine again.

The shower water had finally gone stark cold. Not that it mattered. We had definitely worked up a new sweat even with the cooling sensation beating against our bodies.

I sighed when Matt finally had to pull himself free of me. He chuckled and leaned in for one final kiss.

"Let's clean you up before we get out."

He slowly lowered me to the edge of the tub. I passed him my body wash and he lathered up his hands to clean between my thighs. He rinsed himself as well before turning off the water. The chill from the water had gotten under my skin enough that I didn't immediately become overwhelmed with heat once the shower was off. Matt wrapped the towel around himself first before wrapping one around me, and then picking me up to carry me out of the bathroom.

"I can walk myself, Matt," I said, although we both knew that was untrue.

"Your still trembling legs say otherwise," he noted.

He carried me to his bedroom. We dried ourselves off as much as we could with the towels before discarding them onto the floor and getting into his bed. Matt pulled me to him, resting my head against his chest. There was still so much we probably should discuss, but neither of us made the effort to say anything. We weren't ready to face the reality of what was next for us as roommates. Instead, we were content to lay together for just a while longer, until the heat became too much to bear once again.

I listened to his heartbeat, and I couldn't help but think about how all of this started because he claimed he could hear my own.

~~~

toss a coin to your witcher!

ko-fi.com/storiesforallfandoms

[monicfever]

sound and vision. 𝜗𝜚 matt murdock.

on a quiet rooftop, matt lies beside his girl as she traces constellations with her voice, painting the stars he can’t see.

matt murdock had never truly mourned the stars.

there had been a time, long ago, when the idea of losing them — their sharp, distant shimmer, the way they blinked into existence in a velvet-dark sky — felt like one of the smaller heartbreaks nestled quietly inside the larger one.

but grief has a way of softening around the edges. over the years, he forgot to miss them. forgot what it felt like to look up and see. he learned to look inward, to trace the world with sound and scent and the subtle shift of air currents against his skin.

he hadn’t realized that he’d replaced starlight with other things. the click of her shoes across his apartment floor. the way her heartbeat quickened when she was lying. the warmth in her laughter when she wasn’t.

she never tried to fix what he couldn’t have. never flinched at what was missing. but she did have this tendency to share what she could — to narrate her world in a way that made him feel like he hadn’t lost a thing at all.

that night, it was a blanket thrown over her shoulder and a mischievous smile in her voice. “come on. i have a surprise.”

he didn’t ask questions. just followed.

they climbed the stairs slowly, her hand brushed against his every few steps like punctuation, like she couldn’t help making sure he was still there. she smelled like citrus shampoo and something sweeter, something sun-warmed and familiar.

the door to the roof groaned when she pushed it open. the air changed immediately — cooler, lighter, tinged with the city’s distant hum.

she laid the blanket out with the kind of precision reserved for small, sacred things. crackled open a bag of popcorn. popped the cap off two sodas with a practiced flick.

“okay,” she said, settling beside him, legs crossed like a kid at storytime, “i know you can’t see them. but they’re here. and they’re gorgeous tonight. want me to describe them to you?”

he turned slightly, smiled. “i was waiting for you to offer.”

so she did.

she spoke the constellations into life — drew orion and perseus and lyra with the lilt of her voice, every star mapped out like a heartbeat. her words were delicate, deliberate. she didn’t rush. didn’t pretend he needed her to fill the silence — he just liked when she did.

matt laid back slowly, the gravel of the roof pressing into his shoulders, the city pulsing around him like something alive.

beside him, she shifted — her knee bumping his thigh as she mirrored his posture. the blanket rustled softly beneath them, the scent of buttered popcorn mixed with the faint, crisp cool of the night air.

“okay,” she breathed, like she was about to tell him a secret. “the sky looks like... spilled sugar across black velvet. but not perfect sugar — some pieces clump together, some scatter way out on their own like they’re being shy. and there’s this huge one, low in the sky, almost yellow. it kind of glows like the streetlamp outside the bodega near your place, you know the one?”

matt smiled, just barely. he did know. it buzzed faintly in the evenings.

“and there’s this long stretch — like someone took a paintbrush and just swiped it across the sky,” she went on. “that’s the milky way. it looks fuzzy. a little messy. like a kid did it. i always thought it looked like someone smudged the stars with their thumb.”

her voice had that unfiltered wonder in it again, the kind that made him feel like he could see it too, just in a different way. she described the sky not like she was reciting facts, but like she was telling a bedtime story — full of colour and strange comparisons and joy so tangible he could almost reach out and hold it.

matt turned his face toward her, though his eyes were still closed. he just wanted to catch more of her voice, the little vibrations in the air, the way her pulse fluttered a little faster when she got excited.

he let the silence stretch, not because he had nothing to say, but because he was a little too full of it all. of her. of this domestic kind of magic she carried with her, the way she turned a rooftop and a blanket and a few whispered descriptions into something sacred.

she was precious in a way that crept up on him. not just because of how fiercely she loved things, or how she always brought snacks, or how she narrated the stars like they were old friends. but because she shared it all. with him. without hesitation. without pity.

he could’ve told her. right then. just blurted out I love you. but instead, he reached for her hand, interlaced their fingers lazily, gave her the smallest squeeze.

she squeezed back. said nothing.

the city murmured around them — traffic rolling slow a few blocks away, a dog barking hoarsely in the distance, someone playing jazz out of an open window three stories down.

matt turned slightly onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his fingers still twined with hers. the gravel was digging into his arm, but he didn’t care. not when she was still talking, not when her voice was this soft, low-laughter kind of lovely.

“you’ve got popcorn in your hair,” he said, reaching up with his free hand to pluck it out with mock precision.

“no i don’t.” she said, but she was grinning.

“you do,” he insisted, holding up the offending kernel triumphantly, “evidence.”

she leaned over and swatted at him, missing entirely, and laughed in a way that made his chest ache. not in the sharp, bruised way he knew too well. but in that strange, aching tenderness that always came with being close to something — someone — good. something real.

“you think you're clever, huh?” she said.

“i do.”

“you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he smirked. “i’ve been told.”

she rolled her eyes audibly, somehow, and flopped back onto the blanket, tugging him down with her. his hand found her waist automatically, like it always did, like it knew the way better than he did.

they didn’t say anything for a while. just breathed in rhythm, letting the stillness settle like another blanket over them. it was easy with her. he didn’t have to chase the silence away or fill it with half-hearted distractions. she didn’t expect anything but what he gave.

after a few minutes, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “do you ever wish you could see them? the stars, i mean.”

he was quiet for a second, thoughtful. “not really.” he said finally. “i think if i could id be too focused on what I was missing all these years. i like it better this way.”

she shifted slightly, turning to look at him. he felt the movement, the small puff of her breath on his cheek. “this way?”

he smiled. “hearing it in your voice. feeling how much you love it. it’s better than the real thing, probably.”

there was a pause. then she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth — light, barely there. “you're such a sap.”

“only for you.” he replied, completely deadpan.

she snorted, and he smiled wider, because he liked making her laugh like that — unguarded, a little surprised. like she hadn’t expected it and couldn’t help herself.

“you know,” she started, voice laced with that familiar teasing, “for someone who’s all serious and broody in court, you’re kind of a softie.”

matt turned his head toward her. “broody?”

“yes. absolutely broody. you sit in court with your tie all perfect and your jaw all tense like you’re in a crime drama.”

“i am in a crime drama.” he muttered, deadpan.

“see? exactly that energy.”

he huffed out a laugh, the kind that vibrated more in his chest than in his throat. “you don’t think im mysterious and cool?”

“oh no, you’re mysterious,” she said, dramatic. “like that one neighbor no one sees during daylight hours.”

matt gazed at her with mock offense. “you think I’m the creepy neighbor?”

“i think you might be batman, honestly.”

he bit back a laugh, one corner of his mouth twitching up. “im flattered. but I don’t do capes.”

“suspicious answer.”

“you watch too many movies.”

she grinned, triumphant. “and you dodge questions like someone with a secret lair.”

he reached over, slow and playful, nudging her shoulder with his. “If I had a secret lair, you’d be the last person I’d tell.”

“ouch.”

“you’d try to redecorate it.”

she gasped like he’d wounded her. “that is not true. I would simply add a little mood lighting. maybe a throw blanket or two. some ambiance.”

he tilted his head toward her, pretending to consider. “you want to add candles to my non-existent lair. that feels like a fire hazard.”

“you’re impossible.”

“so you keep saying.”

she rolled onto her side, shoving him lightly. he let himself be moved, dramatic about it, like she’d knocked him clear off balance. her hand stayed on his chest for a beat longer than necessary, resting there like it belonged.

“you’re lucky you’re charming.” she admired him.

“and modest.”

she snorted. “deeply.”

matt’s smile softened.

“you’re kind of dangerous, you know,” he said quietly.

she blinked, surprised. “me?”

“yeah.” he leaned back onto the blanket again, hands folded behind his head like they were just two regular people stargazing and not… this thing that felt like more. “you make things feel easy. like I could stay here forever and not worry about anything.”

she didn’t respond right away. just curled up beside him again.

“good.” she said. “i hope it always feels like that.”

and for a man who could no longer see the night sky, matt murdock had never felt closer to it.

started 4.20.2025. finished 4.23.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Tell Me a Lie

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4617

Summary: Months of hell lead you to one moment- finding out your boyfriend is really alive. After figuring out where he’s been hiding, you concoct a plan- a very stupid, very dangerous plan- to draw him out. 

Notes: This is a terrible summary, but whatever. I finally started season three and I thought putting the reader in this situation would be really interesting. Obviously, his relationship with Elektra wasn’t the same, but the whole self-destructive Matthew is here and ready for angst. I’m imagining this kinda between the episodes where Matt goes to the hotel and the prison, but doesn’t really follow the plot of the episodes, just my own. This is also just a mess, but oh well. (And I know this is kind of what Bella does in New Moon, but I kind of dig it so I won’t apologize haha)

Warnings: Attempted assault, violence, abandonment, alcoholism literally looking for danger (obviously, spoilers for season three)

More Matt Imagines: HERE

-

It didn’t smell like him anymore. Such a weird, stupid complaint, but it made you sick to your stomach to breathe in the musty air of the apartment. 

You sat up, nursing your head in your hand, still pounding from the night before. Not that you’d slept, but hangovers still found a way to bite you in the ass. It was getting pathetic. Not that you cared. And not that your friends had actually used that word. 

‘Concerning’ was Foggy’s favorite. 

He could have his concern. 

You chased the numb. 

Anything was better than remembering he wasn’t here and the apartment you’d just started to share didn’t smell like him anymore. 

You got out of bed on shaking limbs, feeling the nausea roll over you. You swayed, wondering if you’d throw up again. You didn’t. 

You went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee to pull you out of the haze. Karen and Foggy were coming by today to talk about rent. You had to seem at least somewhat put together or they would try and talk you into getting help. Getting help meant moving on. Moving on meant giving up. Giving up meant lying to yourself. Admitting that he was dead and he wasn’t coming back. 

But Matt Murdock wasn’t dead. 

You could feel it. 

The pounding at the door felt like knocking on your skull. You groaned. 

Foggy stepped inside. 

“Morning,” he greeted with his usual chipper smile. 

You didn’t understand it. How he could still seem so happy after everything that happened. Then again, things went rather well for him after…

You shook the thoughts from your head. This wasn’t Foggy’s fault. 

“Hey,” you croaked. You took a long, burning drink from your caffeinated cup and let its effects wash over you. “I thought you two were coming together?” 

“Karen had… other stuff.” Foggy peaked around the corner, plastering a smile across his face. He figured he’d ease into the news. Especially because you looked- well- you looked the way you usually did these past few weeks. “But she says hi.” 

You nodded and took another drink. “Coffee?” 

“I already had some, thanks.” 

He stood silently. 

You stood silently. You raised a brow. “You can sit down, Foggy.” 

“Right. Thanks.” He nodded awkwardly and took a seat on the couch. So much for playing it cool. 

You set your mug to the side and leaned on the counter, fingers gripping the edge like a lifeline. 

“What happened, Foggy?” You stared at the back of his head and felt that familiar squeezing, wrenching breathlessness in your chest. The same feeling when Claire dragged you out of Midland Circle. The same feeling when you watched the building fall. The same feeling when Matt didn’t walk out. “Is it… is it Matt? Did they find him?” 

“No, it’s not about-” He blew out a sigh. “God, you haven’t seen the news then?” 

You hurried around to stand in front of him, panic still evident in your exhausted eyes.

Foggy had to look away. 

“Why, what’s on the news?” 

He gulped. “Maybe you should sit down.” 

“Just tell me what happened,” you scoffed. The sound came out as a nervous laugh, but on the inside, you were screaming. 

His blue eyes met yours. 

“Wilson Fisk made a deal with the feds. He’s out of prison.” 

You blinked. The crushing in your chest was replaced by your heart stopping. 

“What?” You choked out. Of all the things you were expected to hear, Fisk’s name wasn’t one of them. 

“Well, not out exactly. He’s apparently giving them information that’s made him a target in his old prison so they’re keeping him in a cushy penthouse for ‘safety purposes.’” He spat each word out. 

You put a hand on the back of the chair for support. “Fisk is free?” 

“Like I said, he isn’t free, but-”

You held up a hand to stop him.“Where’s this hotel?” 

-

The courtyard was absolute mayhem. Reporters scurried in every direction, each harassing a different agent for information they wouldn’t get. Matt dodged in between them. The noise made his still recovering head pound, but he could still pick out enough to get through. He ducked his head when he heard Karen’s voice, a small moment of panic almost making him turn around. 

He kept moving. 

The crowds didn’t surprise you. And neither did seeing the familiar blonde head weaving through the groups with determined strides. You hurried after her, almost bumping into the man in front of you, but he stepped out of the way just in time. 

“Karen!” You called. 

Gold strands whipped around. Her clear blue stare cut through the crowd. 

“Y/N?” She said, pushing through to you. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“So it’s true.” You tilted your head to the top of the building, its windows reflecting the sun in blinding brightness. “Wilson Fisk is up there?” 

She sighed. “Foggy told you then?” 

“If you’re planning on an ‘it isn’t safe for you to be here’ speech, save it,” you snapped. “I could tell you the same thing.” 

She bit her cheek, looked you over, and determined you looked sober enough. “Alright, follow me.” 

Matt couldn’t move. He tried to force his feet forward, but the heavy beating of his heart filled his ears and made it impossible to navigate the space around him. 

Your voice. Your scent. Even your heartbeat stood out amongst the dozens of people there. And for a moment, just a moment, he wanted to turn around. 

“Promise me we’ll go on that trip we talked about, yeah?” You laughed, though the air was salty with your tears and your voice shook. He kissed your lips for the last time.

“I promise.” 

But that wasn’t what haunted Matt for the last few months. Your sweet words of promise and hope stung, but they weren’t what kept him from going to you. Your screams were. 

“Let me go! Matt! No! Matty! I won’t leave him! Matt!” Even with countless floors between, Matt could hear your gut-wrenching screams as the others dragged you out of the building just before it blew. “Matt! Please! Matt!”

“Matt?” 

It took him a moment to realize that your voice now wasn’t from his memory. It was now.

You’d seen him. But judging by the direction, there was a chance you hadn’t seen his face. He could ignore you and chances were, you’d think you were crazy. Just another offense he’d committed against you. 

He wanted to turn around, to hold you and kiss your lips again and tell you he was okay and everything was going to be okay. That he was still your Matt. 

But the man you fell in love with was gone. He was buried under Midland Circle. 

Matt kept walking. 

-

You’d seen him. As crazy as it was, you knew it was him. He’d heard you. He must have because he stopped- just for a second, but he stopped. Karen may not have believed you, though you could tell she wanted to, but it didn’t matter. 

It was Matt. 

Somehow, it didn’t make any sense but it all made sense at the same time. He was going after Fisk. Of course, he was. Not even the grave couldn't stop your Matt from protecting his city. From protecting you. 

What you didn’t understand is why he kept walking. He acted like you weren’t there, but he of all people couldn’t have simply not noticed you. He’d left you there on purpose. 

He’d left you.

You paced the apartment with your hands raking through your hair with one question on your mind. 

Why? 

Sure, Matt would always use the excuse of protecting you before, but this time felt different. Had you done something? Had you not done enough at Midland Circle? What happened to him? 

Was it your fault?

The explosion was your idea and it buried him. Did he blame you as much as you blamed yourself?

Your feet halted in front of the closet door. Behind the door was a box. Inside the box was the emptiness that haunted your every waking moment for the past you didn’t even know how many days anymore. Your fingers clutched at the neck of the bottle on the table. The drink burned. 

None of it mattered. ‘Why’ didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was out there and he left you and as the burn raced down your throat you knew what you needed to do. 

And you knew where he might be.

-

The gentleness of your touch eased the sting of the disinfectant as you dabbed it on his wounds. It wasn’t the first night he’d come back cut and beaten, but you didn’t let your worry deter your movements. He came back. That’s what mattered. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your voice as soft as your motions. You touched a particularly sore spot and he winced. As you went to draw your hand away, he caught it in his, fingers grasping at yours, still clenched around the towel. 

“Can we just… sit for a while?” He breathed. 

You nodded. He wiped away any blood remaining on his skin and set the towel aside. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you to his chest. He listened to your heartbeat. You listened to his. 

Matt remembered the woman he’d come across earlier that night. Two men had jumped her. They were going to take what they wanted and leave her for dead. He’d taken his time beating them senseless while she got away. But her screams still echoed through his head. 

He tensed beneath you and you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.”

You sat up. “Matt.” 

“It’s nothing,” he managed a laugh. “Really. Just come here.” He coaxed you back to him, but the tension was still there. He breathed in your presence and let out a low sigh. His arms tightened around you. “I’d never let anything happen to you.” His tone was different. Almost afraid. 

You drew lines on his chest. “I know.” 

“And I’d never hurt you, or at least mean to, anyway, but I know that I have and I’m-”

“Matty.” You crawled up so you were beside him, taking his face in your hands. “All I ask is that you come home at the end of the night.” You kissed his cheek. “In one piece, preferably.” He chuckled and you pressed your lips to his. You whispered in between kisses. “Just come home.” 

-

He talked about this place sometimes. Not often. Getting Matt to open up about his childhood was like pulling teeth, but in those last few months together, he’d started to trust you enough to let you in. 

This felt like a betrayal of that. Using your knowledge to expose him. To confront him for leaving you behind. A sober you might have thought of that. But the whiskey-fueled your anger, the rum your despair, and everything else blocked out any logical thought. 

What was the word Foggy used? 

Right. 

Concerning.

“Alright, Matthew,” you called out. Your voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper as you tried to hold back sobs. The wind stung the streaks of tears on your cheeks, but the more you tried to wipe them away, the more they fell. You took a drink. “This is it. Now or never.” 

You waited. You gave him a chance to stop you. 

“You always said you would never let anything happen to me, right? That you’d never hurt me.” You held your arms out at your sides. “Well, here we are, you goddamn liar!” Your voice echoed through the street. He would have been able to hear you for blocks, but standing just outside his damn door had to be good enough. “Come out, Matt!”

“Dude, check out this crazy bitch,” a voice said from behind you. 

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed the nervous bile in your throat. This was part of the plan. Sure, you thought you’d have to do a little more seeking, but this worked even better. There was only one way your tangled-up mind could figure that would get Daredevil to come out to play. You just hoped he would bring your Matt with him. 

You turned around. Two men stood in front of you, both of them with eyes scanning your body and lips forming smirks. Oh yeah. They were perfect. 

“What did you just say to me?” You tried to make your voice sound more confident than you actually felt. You wanted their anger, not their pity. 

“Hey, no need to be like that, I was just kidding,” the taller one said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “I was just about to tell my buddy that you look a little lost.”

“Yeah, maybe she could use our help,” his friend agreed. “Do you want our help?” From the sound of his tone ‘help’ was the last thing he was offering. 

They both stepped towards you. 

And then a thought broke through your intoxicated, reckless mind. 

What if Matt really was dead?

It made you freeze. It almost made you sober. 

What if you just saw some guy that looked like him? What if you’d imagined it all together? What if all this time you’d been hoping- hell, even praying- that he would come back and he was still down there, at the bottom of Midland Circle, crushed and bloody and… gone? 

The men took another step forward, looking equally confused as they were intrigued. 

What if there was no one around to save you?

You held your head high. 

You hoped they’d kill you.

Either way, at least you would know. 

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The tall one asked. Sweetheart. The word stung. It belonged to someone else. 

You didn’t say anything and just started swinging. Fist to teeth, then foot against knee, you actually managed to do some damage before the friend grabbed your arms from behind. You stomped on his foot as hard as you could. Just because this was part of your plan didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for them. It had to at least look like you tried. For Foggy and Karen. 

The thought of the two of them threw you off. It made you blink, which allowed the lead prick to get a hold of your hair and use it to throw you to the ground. 

“You wanna play it that way, fine,” he growled. 

“Hair pulling?” You sneered up at him. “What, did your little sister teach you that move?” 

“Mouthy little bitch.” He brought his heel down on your head. Hard. It probably should have knocked you out, but you could still see through blurred vision with darkness around the edges. They started to walk away. 

“W-wait,” you said. The feet at the edge of your vision stopped. “Wait, come here.” You beckoned him to you with your hand. He crouched down. “Is that all you’ve got, pussy?” 

The hit came faster than you prepared for, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He kicked. And kicked. And kicked. Blood filled your mouth. You thought you heard a knife click open, but then everything went silent. 

And there was only one pair of feet.

A grunt. A thud. A body hitting the pavement. 

“What the…” Your main assailant gasped.  

You blinked, trying to see what was going on.

“Hey, man, she started it, I swear.” Another grunt. Another thud. Another body hit the pavement. 

A masked face appeared over yours.  

You smiled through the pain. “I knew it.” 

He took off the black band, revealing his panicked face. It was the last thing you saw before the darkness in your head took over. 

-

Matt carried you downstairs, every sense tuned into the creaking of your broken ribs, the smell of the blood leaking from your lips, your head, your nose. He focused on the sound of your heart. It was still beating. 

It was still beating.

“Sister!” He called. 

Sister Maggie, in all her wise-cracking wisdom, had known to be there. Matt didn’t know how, but not for the first time he was grateful for her presence. She helped without him having to ask. 

“Is she breathing?” She asked. 

“Barely. Her ribs are broken. I-I can’t tell how hard she hit her head.” He laid you on the bed, still listening to the semi-steady thump thump, thump thump. 

“Who is she?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, his hands roamed your features, the gentle curve of your cheek now split with a bleeding gash. He ran a finger over your lips. As if to confirm it was really you. He had to feel, had to know. Know that this was his fault. Your words echoed in his head. 

You’d never hurt me.

You goddamn liar. 

You were here for him. The reckoning for his sins these past weeks. 

“Matthew, who is she?” Margaret pressed again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “Just help her.” Matt’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please.”

Sister Maggie frowned, fingers clenched around the cloth she’d used to clean some of the blood. “You need to take her to a hospital.”

“Don’t.” Your voice rasped between them. “Don’t you dare.” You started to sit up, using shaking arms to push yourself upright even as your insides felt like they wanted to rip out of you just from breathing. 

“Stay down,” Matt said. He sat on the edge of the bed, easing you back to a lying position. “Try not to move.”

“I knew it.” 

“Y/N-”

“I fucking knew it.” You pushed back. He was stronger. Matt kept you down as gently as he could. 

“Sister, will you give us a minute?”

You turned to the woman you hadn’t noticed. She seemed glad to leave. 

Matt didn’t face you. He stood up from the bed and paced along the concrete floor, keeping a distance away that made you want to scream. You wanted to touch him. To make sure he was really there. But he hovered away from you like a ghost. 

“Those guys really did a number, huh?” You managed to sit up and this time, he didn’t stop you. Your head, however, wanted to bash itself in. Between the trauma and the liquor, you weren’t sure which made you more nauseous. “But the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is always around to save the day.”

“You did it on purpose,” Matt said, shoulders stiff. “You provoked them. They could have killed you and you-” He sucked in a breath. “Why?”

“I’m an adrenaline junkie. I drink, I look for trouble. It’s becoming quite the hobby.” You were lying. You knew he could tell. 

He stood still, head tilting slightly. “You knew I’d come.” 

“Ding ding ding.” You fell back on the bed and let the ceiling spin. 

Matt couldn’t speak. The panic he’d felt was slowly being engulfed by anger, though it was hard to tell at who. You were looking for a fight, that much he gathered was true. You were drunk, though the fight sobered you up some. Everything he’d ever told you, everything he’d done to try and keep you safe, would have been thrown away tonight. You would have let those men kill you if it meant he wasn’t there. 

And it was all his fault. 

He did the one thing he promised he wouldn't. He left. You’d never judged him, never questioned his need to put on the suit. All you ever asked was that he come back to you and this time, he didn’t. By choice, he didn’t. Just like everyone in both of your pasts, he abandoned you. This was your choice to get back at him, whether or not you believed he was alive. 

“I saw you,” you said quietly. “Today, at the hotel. I knew it was you.” The sure, stubbornness in your voice was gone, replaced by a cracking, wrenching sadness. “I had to know.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just reached for the lamp and switched off the light. 

“Get some rest.” 

When you woke up, you were in the hospital, bandages on your cuts, and more hungover than you’d felt in a long time. 

Matt was gone. 

-

They didn’t discharge you, but you left anyway. If they looked too closely at your emergency contacts, they’d find someone who was supposed to be dead and Karen. The latter was not someone you wanted to face right now. 

So, with a couple of busted ribs and one hell of a concussion, you went back to the apartment. His apartment. The place where he first kissed you, first touched you, first-

Now it was just yours. He didn’t want it anymore. 

You half debated going back to the church and demanding he talk to you. You’d like to see the brilliant lawyer try to talk his way out of this one. But in the end, everything hurt too much to face him. You wanted a drink. 

Unlocking the door, the click hit your chest harder than any of that creep’s kicks. 

You knew. 

You may not have had his abilities, but you knew. 

Walking in, you didn’t dare turn around and look at the stairs. You didn’t have to. 

“I’m all better now if that’s what you wanted to see,” you said. You threw your jacket on the floor and kicked off your boots. 

Matt didn’t move from his place by the roof entrance. He stood over you like a judgemental god and you wanted to hit him for it. You might have if he didn’t already look like hell itself spat him back out. 

“You wanted them to kill you,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Not an accusation. An acknowledgment. 

“I wasn’t going to stop them if they tried.” You shrugged. You moved to the kitchen. “Beer?” 

“You shouldn’t drink with the amount of pain medication they gave you.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Like he was just your boyfriend and looking out for you. But he wasn’t and you didn’t know what he was to you anymore. 

“Yeah, well, it’s going to wear off at some point so I might as well get ahead of the curve here.” 

“Y/N-” He stepped. The steps creaked. 

“Don’t.” You held up a hand. “Don’t come anywhere near me, Matt Murdock.” 

He flinched at the sound of his name like it was a blade you held against his throat. 

“Stay where you are,” you said and twisted off the bottle top, grasping so hard the rigid edge dug into your palm. “Shit.” It sliced your skin and your blood dripped onto the wooden floor. 

You didn’t watch him descend the stairs or cross the space between you. You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see his hand grab yours, wrapping the small but deep cut with gauze he carried with him. You yanked away the moment his hold lightened. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Y/N-” He said again, your name hurting more than his own. 

“You’re dead!” Your scream filled the apartment. You knew it filled his head. Everything always did. Good. Let it. 

Matt didn’t step away, but he did let his hand fall back to his side. 

“I know.” 

You tried your best not to shake, not to cry and show the weakness you’d felt for the last weeks. Then again, you wanted him to know. You wanted him to feel everything you’d felt. 

“Tell me you were trapped somewhere. Tell me you tried everything you could to get back to us and you just broke free,” you pleaded. “Tell me a lie, Matt, because I’d rather hear that than whatever bullshit reason you can give me.”

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak, reading his face before he could say it. 

“I swear, if you say something about ‘protecting me’, then you should have just left me to those creeps because that would have been better than listening to that broken record again.” You turned your back and for that second, you let yourself crumple, but only for a second and completely silent. 

“It wasn’t about you.” 

You straightened up again. “It never was.” 

Now, with you facing away, it was his turn to break. Matt sucked in a sharp breath to keep himself together as you continued. 

“It was always about you, Matt. About your insisted martyrdom.” You didn’t try to stop your tears now, tasting their salt as they flowed past your lips. “Your city. The rest of us just live here, right?” You turned around, stepping towards him. “But at least we live.” With your hands on his chest, you pushed him back. “Which is a hell of a lot harder than hiding.” 

You pushed again and again and again and he just stood there and took it. Your flattened hands turned to fists, hitting harder and harder until you were sure you’d leave bruises on his chest. 

It was when you collapsed that he finally moved, throwing his arms around you before you could hit the floor, your legs giving out under the weight of your utter, complete agony. Your sobs choked you and rattled through Matt like gunfire. You kept fighting him, even as he held you, the pain of your injuries was nothing compared to what you felt in your soul. Like the shattered pieces were being forced back together, but didn’t fit anymore. 

Matt wanted to make it stop. He wanted more than anything to take all of the pain away and tell you it was going to be okay. He was here now. But he was the cause of it all and there was nothing he could do to change it. 

And while there was still a dark part of him that wanted to leave you here, to shield you from him entirely, Matt knew if he tried to walk away now, he wouldn't survive it. Daredevil or Matt Murdock, it didn’t matter. He was yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. 

“You were dead,” you said again, this time with broken words blending together with your sobs. “I tried to go back. I tried to get into Midland Circle, but they dragged me out. I tried, Matt, I-”

He cut you off with a kiss on the forehead and held you closer. 

“I know.” He could still hear your screams, your pleas to give up your life to try and save him. He’d thrown it away, everything you’d tried to make of him. Of the two of you, together. 

You’ll get her killed too. Fisk’s voice in his head pierced his skull like a blade. I will crush her. I’ll tear her apart piece by piece, Matthew, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. 

“She’ll put up a hell of a fight first,” Matt muttered. 

“What?” You pulled back to look up at him. 

He shook his head and held you closer still until the lines between you blurred together. 

“Nothing.” 

Even though every part of him now screamed to get away, he couldn’t move. Even as you knelt in front of him, pulling his lips down to yours, he didn’t fight it. A shock worse than any punch went through his system the moment you kissed him. Like every nerve was finally waking up. 

Maybe he wasn’t dead after all. 

Matt cupped your cheek with one hand and slipped the other to the small of your back, urging you to stand and walk with him to the bed neither of you had slept in in weeks. 

He’d decide in the morning.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

A New Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fisk!Daughter Reader, Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Fisk!Daughter Reader

Summary: The daughter of Wilson Fisk walks a dangerous line between power and passion in Hell’s Kitchen. When Matt Murdock confronts her in the bar of her father’s Presidential Hotel, warning her about Benjamin Poindexter—her latest entanglement—wearing the Daredevil suit and wreaking havoc, she refuses to play into his self-righteousness. Matt sees her making the same mistakes as Fisk, but she insists she’s always one step ahead.

Inspired by: @prince-septimus 's headcannon? oneshot? about this topic.

The city breathes like a beast beneath you—alive, hungry, always watching. Hell’s Kitchen was never yours, not really, but it wasn't his either. Not Murdock’s. Not Dex’s. Not your father’s. It belonged to the shadows in between, and you had learned to navigate them with ease.

And yet, even as you sat across from Matt in the sleek, dimly lit bar of the Presidential Hotel—now your father’s hotel—you could feel the weight of all three men pressing in around you. Your father. Your ex. Your... whatever Dex was now.

"You shouldn’t be here," you murmured, swirling your drink lazily as you avoided looking at him. "You shouldn’t have called me."

Matt smiled that infuriating little smirk of his, the one that made you want to either punch him or kiss him, depending on the day. "Then why did you answer the phone?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "Say what you need to say, Murdock."

"It’s about Poindexter."

You went still. A slow blink. A measured breath. "What about him?"

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. "He’s wearing my suit."

The words barely had time to settle before you scoffed. "And?"

His jaw tensed. "And he’s using it to tear this city apart."

You rolled your eyes. "Spare me the theatrics. You think I don’t know what he does? You think I don’t know what you do? The only difference between the two of you is a red suit and a self-righteous complex."

Matt exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You don’t see it, do you?"

You tilted your head, challenging him. "See what?"

"You think you’re different from your father. That you’re smarter than him, better. But you’re making the same mistake. You’re letting a man who was made to kill whisper sweet things in your ear, and you’re pretending he won’t turn on you when the time comes."

A slow smile curled your lips, sharp and cruel. "Oh, Matty. The difference between my father and me is that I don’t pretend he won’t. I just plan for when he does."

Matt’s expression darkened. "Then you know how this ends."

You reached for your drink again, raising it slightly. "Everything ends, Matthew. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy it while it lasts."

Dex was waiting for you when you got back to your apartment. Sitting on your couch like he belonged there, a knife in his hands, flipping it between his fingers with that eerie precision of his.

"Was he convincing?" he asked without looking up.

You let out a breath, kicking off your heels. "He’s worried about you. Thinks you’re unstable."

Dex snorted. "Takes one to know one."

You smirked, making your way toward him, settling onto his lap without hesitation. He let you, hands immediately resting against your hips, firm and possessive.

"What do you think?" he asked, voice dropping lower. "Am I unstable?"

You ran your fingers through his hair, tilting his head back just slightly. "I think you’re dangerous," you murmured. "And I think I like it."

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening. "Careful, princess. You might start sounding just like your father."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, barely a whisper of a touch. "Then it’s a good thing I never wanted to be anything else."

Dex’s breath hitched just slightly before he yanked you down into a bruising kiss, sharp and consuming, as if he wanted to mark you from the inside out.

You wanted him to.

Because Matt was wrong.

You weren’t your father.

You were worse.

[hainethehero]

Frank: Nothin in this world a good cup of coffee can't fix, u want a cup?

Karen: uh, no. Thank you.

Matt: *standing in between them looking at them back and forth* um, anyways, I'll have a cup! Also I'm an oatmilk kind of bitch!💅✨️🤙🤭

[l0vergirlwrites]

wanna feel guilty ; matthew murdock

synopsis: you can’t seem to stop thinking about matthew even though you’re with someone new.

warnings: descriptions & themes of sex, female reader, reader mentally cheating on their partner (i think that make sense??)

inspired by “pushing it down & praying” by lizzy mcalpine! this song is so beautiful & relatable (unfortunately ❤️‍🩹)

“god, that feels so good” the man above you breathes into the air, the grip of his hands on the skin of your hips feeling a bit too tight.

you could feel sweat on your skin, warmth rushing through you but it just isn’t fulfilling. you open your eyes, blurry vision taking in his blonde hair & pale skin into view as his hips continue to snap into yours repeatedly.

“you like that?” he asks, face leaning closer to yours, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing to your ear.

you nodded, squeaking out a breathy hum.

he kissed the skin beneath your ear in approval, mouthing at your neck. to fulfill the part, your nails dig into his back, muscles tensing under your touch when you pull.

it’s always easier to lie when you can’t see his face.

“tell me you like it” his face comes back into view, blonde hair falling over his forehead with a lustful look in his eyes. it used to make your stomach fill with butterflies, make your legs tighten around his waist & bite your lip.

but now it just makes a wave of guilt wash over you.

your eyes flutter when he hits the spot inside you, causing your head to push back into the pillow more. that’s one thing he’s still good at.

“tell me, baby” his rasps, his warm hand coming to your cheek to bring your eyes back to his.

“i like it—i love it—love you” your breath hitched, sighing in relief when his lips come into contact with yours. you let yourself get lost in it, focusing on how you feel, what you want, until the blonde boy blurred into the lips you’ve missed.

you could’ve sworn facial stubble was brushing against your cheek, slightly bigger calloused hands on your waist, & the smell of pine musk wafting in the room.

you imagined matthew’s moans in your ears, his tongue painting marks against your neck & hands doing exactly what you liked where you needed him most.

“touch me” you purr, imagining the blonde hair you currently gripped was brown & a bit shorter in length.

guilt seeped into you again when he moaned your name, almost breaking you out of your trance. you prayed he didn’t see your expression falter.

“open your eyes, baby. wanna see you” he grunted, & you obliged.

you ran your free hand across his abdomen, tracing where matthew’s scars would’ve been.

“i’m close” he muttered, & you cringed internally because you felt relieved.

carter was a nice guy—the typical coffee shop barista who has a knack for historical books & films. he likes thrifting sweaters & rainy days where all you can do is sit inside & read. he likes the occasional party, even dresses up if necessary. he remembers things you like & buys you small gifts unprompted just because he wanted to treat you. he follows all of the basic rules of dating—but something is missing.

well, more so, someone.

“me too” you muttered, gripping his hair harder to spur him on (it works every time).

the knot in your stomach is close, but not close enough. so you prepare yourself to fifty-fifty fake it. you close your eyes again, push your head into the pillow beneath you, & imagine matthew on top of you, touching you, inside of you—it almost feels real.

you focus on the pine musk, calloused hands, matthew’s face, what he calls you—& soon enough your breathing rapidly & feel a burning sensation reaching his peak.

“let go, come for me” carter spoke into your ear, grinning into your skin when you do, & he soon follows.

the come down feels fuzzy until carter’s hand on your cheek again, thumb rubbing your cheek as his voice calls out to you. his body is beside yours now, clammy warmth radiating onto your skin.

“you’re perfect, you know that right?” he smiles, not caring when he kisses your slightly sweaty forehead.

you fake a smile & push his hand off your face, only to intertwine your fingers with his so he isn’t thrown off.

you push yourself up to kiss him again, your chest pressing into his. “you’re really sweet” you tell him into his lips, & you really do mean it.

carter pulls back & brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, taking you in.

“you’ll stay tonight, right?”

& you can’t bring yourself to say no.

you kiss him again until he smiles into your mouth, & he just continues to buy whatever you give him.

“i’ll be back. stay right here” & with that, carter gets up & pulls a pair of boxers on, going to the washroom down the hall.

you slip on your underwear once you find it on the floor & throw on a random baggy shirt, laying back on the bed with your phone in hand. your thumb moves after than your brain until you register that a photo of matthew is on your phone & you feel your heart skip a beat.

you know what you’re doing is wrong.

you remind yourself that carter is stable.

carter is kind, nice, & sweet.

but he isn’t matthew.

[kendallsroyco]

2006 vs 2025 ��️

Charlie really making one of the best cases for Twink Death -> DILF Birth ✨

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem

Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

my masterlist

gif by me

summary: The positive pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom counter was the least of your worries, considering you had to tell both the men you'd been regularly sleeping with the news and figure out which was the father. A task that would be difficult for anyone, but especially difficult for you since the potential fathers of your child were Matt Murdock and Frank Castle. When the three of you come together to coparent, their complex relationship with each other and the lingering weight of their haunted pasts makes pregnancy and parenthood difficult for all, not to mention the lingering feelings each harbors for you and how they'll compete to win your love.

warnings: AFAB Reader. Love triangle that leads to eventual MFM throuple relationship. Eventual smut (DONT READ IF YOU'RE NOT 18+/YOUR AGE IS NOT LISTED IN YOUR BLOG) including but not limited to: three ways, oral (all giving and receiving), DP, etc. In depth mentions of pregnancy, birth, newborn, postpartum fem body, and parenthood. Matt and Frank's pasts being complex and traumatic. Parts of it will be canon for Born Again, parts won't: I'm picking and choosing which parts I want to be, okay? Be prepared for many chapters, slow burn, and angst that eventually gets happy.

a/n: I got to thinking how could you ever realistically get Matt and Frank into a throuple with you and I realized the only way to do it would be get pregnant and not know which is the father. So that's what this is. Yes I am still working on another multi-chapter series. Yes she is fully outlined and waiting to be written while I also work on this. Mind ya business.

▶ Chapter 1 ▶ Chapter 2 ▶ Chapter 3 ▶ Chapter 4 ▶ Chapter 5 ▶ Chapter 6 (Coming May 22) ▶ Chapter 7 (Coming May 29) ▶ Chapter 8 (Coming Soon!)

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

[totallynotashieldagent]

full of catholic guilt matt murdock is just SO chef's kiss tho

sex would be pleasure and punishment all wrapped into one

like, he would need- he'd beg, plead, want to be tied up, overstimulated because he doesn't think he deserves anything better than this- this extreme pleasure accompanied with this extreme sensitivity of pain and sharpness of your foot on his balls as his hands are tied to his thighs, and his ankles are tied to the legs of the sofa or a chair or whatever- and he's there, exposed- and you put earplugs in his ears to dampen his senses but he can taste it

he can taste the salt of his own skin, the sex in the air-

and your hands are working him still, his cum is half dry, half lubing him up more, and making him go again and again and again-

he's begging, moaning, whimpering-

and he's cum so many times now that his cock is just twitching and swollen but nothing's coming out anymore

or

there would be days when he's overtaken by control. he's a predator and you have better said your prayers that day because one miscalculation, one wrong word and the way his hand would land on your ass would leave a mark for days-

he'd hold your legs open by the ankles, rut into your tight cunt without prep and cum until you're a sobbing mess and keep going until you're begging him to let you go because you can taste his release in the back of your throat now -

your pussy's already gone numb so there's no use in fighting over that, honestly

but it's the after

the after is when the real catholic guilt hits

when all the pleasure he's felt, feels so completely disgusting and he's full of self-loathing to have enjoyed any of it at all

to have cum so much that he's spent-

to have made you cum at all that you're boneless and drooling and your body is marked and bruised in prints of his hand on your ass

he'd beg for forgiveness as if you were his alter and church, he'd stay on his knees for you, whispering apologies for going too far, for not making love, for fucking too hard, for even daring to touch you in such an obscene way-

he would stay on his knees and you'd run your fingers through his hair, repeating it was fine, it's okay, it hurt but you never said the safeword anyway so he shouldn't feel bad about it

but he can't- he can't stop the guilt

he can't stop throwing himself into being Daredevil and getting himself hit harder and punished more but then that's how the cycle repeats

he gets hurt and you take care of him, and the only way he wants to be taken care of is through pleasure anyway-

Drabble Master List.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I please request some headcanons for Matt & Frank with a genderneutral reader who makes really suggestive or outright outrageously sexual jokes once they get into a relationship, but it's soon very clear that they have never even kissed anyone, let alone had sex before? Imagine they just get really flustered when Matt/Frank shows any sexual interest back at them. They're always leaning in for more despite their anxiety and inexperience.

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this, my dear!

Matt

Matt would not only understand this but I think he would also find this SO endearing

Because this is so matt-coded. Matt is overwhelmingly flirty and charming and the minute someone he has feelings for flirts back he is such an utter dork about it. i love him

so I think he would absolutely catch you off guard. He'd be flirting and making comments CONSTANTLY until he finally worked up the nerve to ask you out

As your very new relationship begins to progress, he'd notice that you always get antsy if he gets too forward with you. You have no problem dishing it out, but you can't quite take it.

I think he'd get a bit self-conscious, thinking it was him who was making you uncomfortable, until you finally came clean.

"I've never...Matt, I've never done anything before. I've never even kissed someone, let alone..."

His behavior would definitely change. He'd be much more focused on your comfort and taking things slowly. He'd start with kissing, letting you tell him what you liked and didn't like, absolutely encouraging you to lead the way.

And your first night together would be romantic and thoroughly planned out. He would make you feel like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Frank

Frank, on the other hand, would be sitting you down IMMEDIATELY

Sure, he'd allow the banter and throw a few jokes back, but if you two hit it off and you suddenly closed up? Alarms would be going off in his head.

His primary concern, as always, is your safety. He's letting you know that there are no hard feeling if you aren't interested and that he doesn't expect anything from you.

You're quick to reassure him, telling him that it's not that he scares you, it's that he's the first person you've ever been with.

He's momentarily stunned. Not only did someone as wonderful as you have feelings for him, but you trusted him enough to make him your first ever relationship? He can't fathom it.

After he comes to terms with the explanation (which wouldn't take long), he is setting STRICT ground rules. You are in charge of everything. He is open to whatever you're comfortable with, but you have to let him know what you want/need.

Much like Matt, he'd take things slow and make sure you felt loved. As if you could feel anything but cherished with him.