#charlie cox imagines

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Candles & Dinner (matt murdock)

Summary: Matt pampers you after a long day at work.

warnings: fluff

WC: 285

A/N: i'm reposting ALOT of older fics back on tumblr. Alot of them are going to be for the MCU fandom. If you'd like to be informed of these postings, here's my tag list.

Read on Ao3!

--

Walking into your apartment, you smelled the scent of your favorite candles. Inhaling deeply, you shut the door and took your jacket away from your shoulders and placed it in the coat rack by the door. Before you had the chance to turn around, arms wrapped around your body and a nose nuzzled deep into your shoulder.

“Well hello to you too, Matt,” you giggled as he pressed a chaste kiss to your neck before pulling away completely. “I suspect you’re the reasoning behind the candle smell?”

A chuckle fell from his lips as he intertwined his fingers with yours before he guided you to the kitchen. He motioned for you to sit down at the table full of your favorite meal. Blinking in surprise, you looked at him with an open mouth.

“Foggy helped me, and Luke,” he shuffled nervously on his feet for a moment as you looked from the table back at your boyfriend. “I know you’ve been really stressed out at work, your heart rate has been off the wall lately. I didn’t know what else to do for you.”

“Matty,” you sighed as you caressed his cheek, his face leaning into your touch. “This is the best thing I could have ever come home to.” Lightly, you brushed your mouth against his just before he disappeared down the hallway into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned carrying two wine glasses and a bottle of wine.

He placed the items on the surface of the table before he walked you over to the table and pulled your chair out before gesturing to you to sit down. He kissed the top of your head before rounding the table and seating himself.

--

please be kind and give this a reblog if you enjoyed <3

[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 a 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 strange.” 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 slide. “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 💀

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

[vigilxnte-shit]

i want your midnights || matt murdock x reader

summary: you sleep better when matt is around, but the last thing you want is to make him choose between you and the city.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: NOT EDITED NOT EDITED AT ALL SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY also mentions of anxiety

a/n: based on my own insomnia as of late and also the fact that there is not a single member of the tuna team with a normal sleep schedule

this is an 18+ blog. minors dni. || masterlist

you didn’t know what time it was.

you knew it was dark, that it was raining, and that there was a slight, tugging tension in your arm where it rested under your pillow, bearing the weight of your head. you knew that the empty pillow next to yours felt smooth and empty and cold, that it faintly smelled of coffee and whiskey and, in a perfect world, would be cradling perfect chestnut waves and supporting the man you loved. 

but the world wasn’t perfect. it was dark, it was raining, and there was an intense, stifling lack of matthew murdock in your bed. 

you tossed and turned, shoved your head into the pile of pillows, snuggled with the sheets to get a whiff of his lingering cologne- nothing helped. he wasn’t the sheets or the pillows, he was actual warmth and the comfiest set of arms you’d ever been wrapped up in. he was real, he was yours, and he was out saving the world, just like he did every night.

you took some comfort in knowing that he was listening, that he was always leaving an ear open. he’d told you several times that on the more stressful nights, the evenings where the punches landed harder and the blood ran heavier, he’d look to you for respite. you liked to imagine it, exactly as he said- his gaze always veered up, in the direction of your apartment, seeking you out the same way he did god, zeroing in to listen to your heartbeat and your breath. to the one thing that brought him back to earth. you. the sounds of you living, not even conscious, just existing and waiting and his.

it was comforting to think about, but it wasn’t a substitute. you were still left matt-less, still alone. with an upset huff, you turned onto your back and stared at your dark void of a ceiling, your mind leading you to the morning. you wanted to bring this up with him. you wanted to talk it out, find a compromise and start spending your evenings in his arms, but that would leave out one very important detail that made matt, matt. that detail was this little thing called daredevil.

you knew it when you’d fallen in love, that daredevil came with matt murdock, and you knew you would never understand it. you’d had your experiences in double lives, one face with your parents and another with your friends, but you couldn’t even begin to fathom it on this level, the torment and anguish that the catholic felt for engaging the vigilante. you knew it was difficult, you knew it was important to him, and you knew that, whether you liked it or not, your heart belonged to the devil of hell’s kitchen just as much as it belonged to the lawyer fighting for justice- but that knowledge didn’t take away the anxiety, or the missing him, or the lonely nights. 

the emptiness of your ceiling made your mind envious as you went through the options. of course, you could call him- maybe it was a slower night, maybe he could call it early and come in from the rain to your arms. the longer you thought about it, though, the more that plan fell apart. you tried to save the burner he’d given you for emergencies; it had been used exactly once since you’d received it and only because he’d heard a fire alarm go off in your building. he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption, especially if it wasn’t a slower night. 

you could wait up for him, but that would upset him, too. he’d spent the past weeks begging you to try melatonin and offering to find you a therapist for the anxiety that plagued you, insisting that your rest was more important than him having someone waiting. him and his lawyer ways, of course, had tried to convince you that even falling asleep while waiting still counted, but you didn’t believe that. you knew if he climbed through that window bleeding and bruised only to find you sound asleep, he would never wake you up. he wouldn’t even consider it, and this was where the problem came to its head. 

you slept better with matt murdock next to you. that was a fact, plain and simple. no anxiety medications could replace that, no weighted blanket could make up for his arms. you slept your best when he was next to you, tangible and warm and smelling like the faintest hints of coffee and whiskey as he held you to his chest, and the nights that you got to experience that were paradise. and yet, you could never tell him that. you could never put that on him. he could choose between helping you sleep and protecting the city over your dead body, and you didn’t care how dramatic that sounded. you loved matt. you loved daredevil. you loved the devotion he held to his city, his ceaseless passion for keeping the streets as safe as he could, and you could never be cruel enough to ask him to choose between that and yourself. 

you forgot to blink with how you stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. you were stuck. you had no clue what to do, and you were only roused from your swirling brainstorm by the sound of the actual storm outside entering your window for the briefest of moments with its opening and immediate re-closing. 

“you should be asleep.” 

his voice was gruff, deep, just like always when he returned home- a bit hoarse from the tone he adopted, from the occasional yelled conversation. you could hear the rain dripping off of him, the way he lightened his steps in the boots he always wore so he didn’t seem like he was stomping. the little things, the details where your matty shone through the suit and armor. 

“can’t,” you answered. that was all you needed to say. you knew he could hear your heartbeat, pick up on your temperature and focus on your breathing. he was doing it now- the silence gave it away with the intense feeling of somehow being watched. 

“we’ve gotta get you in therapy, sweetheart,” he said softly. you heard his mask thud onto the bedside table, a gentle dropping sound accompanied with his softened footsteps before you felt his icy, rained-upon lips press your forehead. “i’m worried about how little you’re sleeping.” 

you answered with a low hum, finally turning onto your side. “are you at least coming to bed soon?” 

you loved how he looked, mask-less in his signature reds. he looked worn out and tired and accomplished for the night- that sparkle in his hazel eyes would fade in the shower as he pondered whether god was proud of him yet, but for now, you savored it. he smiled at you- a soft, affectionate little pull of his lips, followed by a nod. 

“let me go shower. i’ll be back in five.” 

he gave your hand a small squeeze. you returned it before nestling into your pillow. your eyes rested easier now, the pillow felt softer and the air felt warmer just from his presence. your eyelids became so heavy you had to close them, focusing on the sound of the running water and the slowing patter of the rain. 

matt was listening, too. he had been the whole night- it had been quieter, like you’d hoped, and he’d spent most of the night listening for you. he’d known you hadn’t slept, your heart rate spiking and sinking and back again, your breath too fast to be unconscious. 

that was why as he stood in the shower, hot water running down his back and rain still audible on the roof, he smiled. he had been monitoring you since his arrival home, listening with a feeling of pride as your heartbeat steadily decreased and your breathing became more even. 

you were nearly asleep when he came to join you, only roused slightly by the sudden feeling of his arms around you. you stretched and yawned, calling a soft “yeah?” as you adjusted. he just chuckled, squeezing you before kissing your cheek. 

“go to sleep. i’m right here.” 

your wordless response was to snuggle into his chest, that coffee cologne pushing it’s last, most faint notes to your nose with the warm backdrop of his embrace. you took less than a minute to fall to unconsciousness, your soft exhales brushing his chest and your forehead under his chin.

matt smiled to himself, his own eyes falling closed to the rhythmic melody of your heartbeat.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I get a Lily for Matt and Frank, how would they react to finding reader crying?

Matt

He’d probably (absolutely) sprint home if he heard you crying

Chuck his cane and everything

Darting up to the apartment, arms outstretched, asking you what was wrong as you burrowed into him

Cradling the back of your head, he’d carry you to the couch and set you in his lap, shushing you softly until you were a bit calmer

He’d be pretty insistent that you tell him what happened, wanting to talk things through with you before coming to a conclusion

Frank 

Frank on the other hand becomes sort of “act first think later” when you’re hurt or upset

Panic sets in whenever he finds you crying. He hides it well but every alarm in his body is screaming for him to FUCKING FIX IT. he hates seeing you cry. 

If he could sell his soul to keep you happy, he would. 

Like Matt, he’d use physical contact to ground you, help calm you down, as well as remind himself that you’re still alive—even if you aren’t happy. 

He’d pretty much demand to know what happened. And as soon as you were tucked into bed that night, he’d search far and wide for whoever wronged you, ready to ensure they didn’t do that ever again

[marrziy]

TENHO FOME.

[chaithetics]

Devilish Worries and Bodies

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F (afab) reader Word count: 3.3K Warning/note: 18 + MDNI, mentions of anxiety/mental health/worries, and smutty smut smut! P in V intercourse. Some fluff. No description physical description of reader other than afab. Not proofread! Please validate me and this self-indulgent fic, sad girl era is thriving.

************************************************************************

Matt had already come home after a long day of fighting for justice through the legal, sophisticated, respectable way of the courts as the good samaritan lawyer for the voiceless and defenceless of Hell’s Kitchen. And then endured a long night of fighting for justice through the illegal, frowned-upon way of his vigilante persona, Daredevil. He’d come home, you’d helped him clean up the couple of cuts he had and he’d gone to bed now. He was sleeping peacefully, he looked like an angel as his eyes were closed and no worries were etched into his face. 

He had been in a deep slumber by the time you left the bed, he was yet to notice. You hadn’t been able to sleep at all, and it wasn’t his fault that that was the case. You were now sitting on the sofa in the living room that felt even greyer and colder than usual. Everything felt so cold, you almost wondered if your vision was acting up. You just needed some rain outside and you’d be in Catherine Hardwicke’s blue-green-tinted world of Twilight. 

You had a glass of water in your hands that was now room-temperature because you’d been sitting there so long. Holding it. Thinking. Thinking about just tipping the glass of water out onto yourself, because why not? Then that image would replay over and over. Then you’d sip from it. Somehow. Lower it. Back to holding and then back to thinking. It was still pretty full at this stage. 

Staring out the window into the numerous lights that appeared to float mid-air, parallel to the sky at different points. You couldn’t see any stars, you hated that. At least if there were stars you’d have some luck of counting them, maybe trying to name some of them, in an attempt of some distraction technique you told yourself that a normal person could do. Then you thought a normal person probably wouldn’t even to do this. The voice in your head that said it, was mean, it was the kind of a high school bully which made you feel even worse. You let out a deep sigh and choke on a little sob that you didn’t know had been wanting to come out. 

That’s the noise that wakes Matt up, he stretches out in the bed you share as he lets out a quiet but deep yawn as he tiredly rubs his eye. He moves a hand through his sleep-toussled hair as he immediately realises that you’re not in bed with him. He sighs as he focuses on the elevated heartbeat of yours he can hear drumming along further in the apartment. He immediately knows something is up, when he’d originally come home he thought something might’ve been bothering you as you seemed slightly detached but he’d been able to write it off as you just being tired because it was extremely late when he’d come home after a patrol. He couldn’t write this off as early hours fatigue though. He knew you, down to the core, even when you didn’t want to be perceived.

Matt gets up and slowly walks out of the bedroom with gentle footsteps, he could’ve been a ballerina in another lifetime. He’s so quiet with his movement after years of practice that you don’t notice he’s out of bed until he’s standing just a few steps away from the couch. 

It’s when you get the feeling of goosebumps on the back of your neck and that feeling that somebody is watching you that you start to wonder. You’re not sure though if it’s just depressed paranoia that makes you feel like somebody is watching, Matt had absolutely passed out, he should be in a deep sleep still you think. But you try to slow your breathing and not given into the urge to look and further panic, but you think that if someone was behind you it’s better to look and know that there is or that you’re not just feeling depressed but also paranoid. 

With a sigh after a sharp inhale you slowly turn your head and look, you see Matt standing there. He’s just a couple of steps away from you, he’s facing you and well… he’s not just facing you, he’s analysing you. You look at him with tears in your eyes as you know he’s doing a full scan of your senses. 

Matt steps closer immediately and sits on the sofa right next to you as the first tear has just dropped. You’re not sure if it’s because he can hear the tear dropping out of your tear duct to run down your cheek, or if it’s because he can smell the extra stress hormones or something in these emotional tears. 

“I thought you were asleep.” You whisper hoarsely, almost feeling ashamed at this scene happening. 

“I was.” He says gently as he raises his hand to your cheek and then he gently rubs your cheek, wiping up the few tears had already shed. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry-” Now it’s guilt as well. 

“Don’t apologise.” He quickly cuts you off in a gentle tone. 

He’s caring but he says it so nonchalantly, like this is normal. He’d spent a day working with clients, then he’d had a violent patrol and now you having a mini-breakdown interrupted his sleep. You felt bad and you knew that maybe you shouldn’t because you’re a human and you’re entitled to a cry and love and understanding. And all those things. But brains aren’t logical, and they sure as hell aren’t when you’re going through the emotions. You sigh as you look at his face, seeing the compassion and adoration. 

“Are you going to talk to me, beautiful?” He whispers with a gentle, playful smile. He’s trying to ease this. Diffuse the anxiety. 

“It’s just overwhelming. There’s a lot of mental noise and I’m struggling to not spiral-because well I’m already spiralling and nothing feels good. I’m not good. I’m just not good.” You spit out. 

He quickly pulls you into his arms and your face is pressed against his warm bare chest. You can’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief and bury your head further into his chest. It’s so comforting and even when you’re a mess, he still somehow knows how to comfort you. 

“Maybe you’re not good, and you’re just great instead.” He whispers as he starts to caress your back gently, he seems to be almost tracing an invisible pattern as he does. “That’s how I feel about you. Other days you may be good. It’s been bad before, it’s been good before. It can feel good again, honey. And it will.” 

You sigh and tilt your head to look at him as you move more into his lap and adjust yourself to be more physically comfortable. You trust him, you love him, you believe him but you’re not sure if you believe him more than the disbelief you have in yourself. 

Matt seems to sense this hesitation in you. “Five things you see?” He asks softly as his head is tilted to face you, he’s focusing on you because you’re his whole world. 

“Um…” You inhale and start to look around as you think. “Your face…” You say and almost chuckle, he smiles that charming grin widely and chuckles. “Good, what else.”

You look around and think. “The window… The couch… that plant in the ugly pot my cousin gave us.” You say and you both smile at that. You had to describe in detail the absolute atrocity of the pot to Matt when had been gifted to you both and it was now a bit in your relationship. 

“Good, good, not so good.” He chuckles with the smile that’s slowly distracting you from your worries. “One more thing.” “Um, the light.” You say quietly. 

“Four things you can feel.” He says and you can’t help but chuckle. “Well, you, I guess, and four different parts of you.” You say as you look at him as your cheeks heat up. 

“Sure, I’ll give you that one.” He says playfully. “Do I feel good?” He then asks teasingly. It makes you roll your eyes and chuckle. 

“Yeah.” 

“So something feels good.” He says with a proud smirk. 

“Don’t use my words back at me, like that.” You say as you watch him smile. “Mm, don’t say them then, pretty thing.” He says proudly and he chuckles and kisses your lips softly with a little peck. “Now should I keep going with the grounding and distraction technique?” 

“I don’t know-” 

“Why, are you in your body and out of your head enough?” He asks with a smirk as he caresses your back. 

“Maybe. You’re pretty good at that.” You say, he is. He’s so good at reassuring you and bringing you back to Planet Earth and away from the galaxy of overthinking and mental black holes. 

You lean against him and press a soft gentle kiss to his collarbone as he’s so close to you. All of him is, he’s enveloping you. He lets out a quiet little groan at that, that he tries to muffle but you catch it. You look up at him and bite your lip. 

You move slightly and caress his strong arms gently. “Honey, are you sure? You’re… Well you’ve been upset…” He says softly. He means it. 

“Yeah, but I’m feeling better now. And maybe the dopamine and oxytocin is just what I need.” You say matter of factly but still a little anxiously. “Oh really?” He cocks his head slightly and there’s a devilish grin on his face but his eyes are filled with love and adoration.  

“Yes really.” You smiled softly as you looked up at him, you really loved him and you felt safe with him. Matt started to run his thumb along your jaw and down your throat gently. 

You felt your cheeks heat up more and then you trailed your hand down his chest, his stomach, being careful to avoid any visible cuts or bruises on his pale skin. Your hand made it’s way down to palm him over his boxers. You watched his face carefully, his cheeks started to tinge with a blush and he smiled. 

“Mm, no.” He said with a smirk and then he quickly flipped you carefully and gently so you were now lying on your back on the couch while his hand was firmly on your waist as he looked down. You sharply gasped as this happened but then let out a giggle which just made his smirk grow ten times more. 

Matt lowered himself, caressing your waist gently and then running his hand down to your thigh and up again slowly, your breath started to slow in anticipation as you bit your lip, he was paying attention to your breathing and then he tugged your sleep bottoms down. Your cheeks heated up more at that as you looked down at him. He was completely focused on you now as his fingers danced around your inner thigh, spelling out invisible love letters and filth on your sensitive skin as you gasped at each touch. For a man with a moniker that had the word ‘devil’ in it, he sure was heaven of a man. 

Matt started to kiss your thighs, as his fingers moved up, he then paused his kisses as he finally travelled across to your vulva and ran a single finger through your folds. It triggered an automatic soft moan that made him smirk for a moment as he then gently spread your folds. 

His finger starts to travel more, he teases your hole with his index finger, circling it and almost going in for you to swallow him up but never quite, you feel your core clench up at this and don’t even realise that you’re holding your breath, waiting for him. Waiting for more. He keeps exploring, teasing, and pulling out soft moans and groans of anticipation from you, he starts to slowly insert his finger which makes you gasp and then he pulls it out. He brings the finger to his mouth and sucks on it, tasting your juices. 

You gasp at this and watch him, you’d been watching him the whole time but now your eyes are absolutely glued to him. He then brings his finger mixed with your juices and his saliva to that sweet, sweet, bundle of nerves that’s craving his touch. He starts to circle it slowly in a clockwise motion, applying a little more pressure. 

“You know, that tasted pretty good.” He says. He says it so confidently, the nature of his tones words, and what’s happening makes your cheeks heat up more as you let out some soft moans. “I should probably try it straight from the source, that’s what I need to do, isn’t it?” 

“Oh Matt…” You can’t help but feel like you’re going to explode just from his words. But he’s already dived in. 

Matt kisses along your vulva as he inserts his finger into your hole, lightly, almost teasingly. The kisses get closer and then he starts to lick. You’re almost squirming a little now, it feels so good, he’s not even at your clitoris yet, but his mouth and fingers is the start of an overwhelming heaven and you know that. You let out a loud whine and as you squirm, he moves his free hand to firmly hold your thigh, keeping you in place and he groans against you. The vibration of that is absolutely perfectly and you bite your lip, trying not to cry out, as you feel your eyes close as he licks your folds while pumping the tips of his index and now middle finger out. 

After a loud whine he smirks and then moves his mouth to the sweet spot as he keeps lightly fingering you, he licks your bundles of nerves, slowly, almost painfully so, circling it with his tongue and then you feel him kissing it and then he starts to lightly suck on your clitoris. You whine out at that, desperately so, as you claw the side of the couch and your eyes start to roll back. He hums against your clitoris, he’s so perfect and he knows that you love that so much. It always feels so damn good and it does right now. The vibration of that humming perfectly gets you off every time and sends pleasure right from your core right down to your feet and up to your head. 

Matt keeps humming, well aware of what it does to you, and hungrily sucks on your clitoris, like his life depends on bringing you to orgasm, that he is a man dying of a thirst that only tour sweet juices can quench, that your release will be his salvation. He keeps sucking and you feel your eyes roll back so much and you’re moaning so loudly as your back arches, he’s taking you to the peak and you can’t hold it back anymore. You whine out and grip the sofa more as he firmly holds your thigh, his fingers digging in as his mouth brings you to an overwhelming and incredible orgasm. 

“Oh Matt!” You whine out as the pleasure from it floods you. He keeps sucking and licking, making sure he gets each last drop and makes the most of your taste that he’s obsessed with and needs. He slows down after your release as you pant quickly you can’t help but smile and as you look down and see his face move away, his chin and mouth is wet but his lips are curled up in a smile. 

“You taste sweeter than anything I could ever dream of wanting.” He says as he caresses your thigh, there’s a slight flush in his face as he pants a little. Your cheeks heat up more at his words and as you watch him move. 

Matt takes his boxers off and then quickly kneels on the couch, spreading your legs and you see his thick member aroused and hungry. He’s looking at you as moves closer, holding it and then you move your hand down, feeling it and the precum that’s already dripping. You help him line himself up. 

Matt immediately thrusts in, he bottoms out quickly, you sharply inhale and he lets out a loud, perfect groan that’s music to your ears. 

“Absolutely perfect every time.” He whispers and then he slowly starts to move as his hand moves up your stomach and to your chest as he holds onto a breast while his other hand is planted onto the sofa to steady himself as he moves. 

You feel yourself clenching more around him with each thrust, his rhythm is steady but quick and you’re already so sensitive after the mindblowing orgasm he just gave you. Matt groans as his pace increases while he thrusts into you. You can’t help but whine out as he squeezes your breast and grunts out while moving. 

Matt then moves so his body is flushed against you, chest to chest, he puts his arm under your head, almost cuddling you closer to him as his hips start to move ten times faster. 

“Oh Matt, fuck…oh god…” You whine out loudly as he moves quickly and you’re so physically overwhelmed. He smiles at your reaction and groans into your ear, pressing his lips right against you to kiss your hair and moan into it as he fucks you like his life depends on it. 

His hips are moving so quickly and it completely contrasts to how the way he’s holding you is almost so gentle. You wrap your arms around his back, almost weakly and then start to scratch his toned back as the thrusts become deeper and deeper. You feel so full. 

“So perfect, so beautiful. I love you.” He groans into his ear as he keeps pounding into you. He’s a man in love and one that craves your body. He’s absolutely obsessed. “Your pussy is always so needy. I love it.” He groans into your ear as the thrusts become faster. 

“I love… I love you… t-too…” You whimper out as he keeps thrusting. You bury your head into the crook of his neck as he keeps going, he’s squeezing you tighter. “I love you s-so-so much…” You feel his hips starting to sputter as the rhythm breaks up a little. He’s still thrusting quickly into you but he’s getting close. 

“You feel so good, I’m not gonna last long beautiful.” He moans into your ear as he holds you tighter and keeps thrusting into you. You nod against his shoulder and neck, you knew this, and you have no issue with it. 

You dig your nails into his back and scratch him, goosebumps run along his skin at your touch and his breath changes for a moment as his body trembles slightly and he gives one last thrust as he then releases. He groans out and you look up at him smiling and biting your lip, he always looked so handsome when he finished and he made the sweetest noises. 

He groans and opens his eyes slowly, he looks at you and then immediately kisses you on the lips lovingly and comfortingly. He pants against your soft lips as he rests them there after the kiss. You run your fingers through his dark hair that now has beads of sweat from this exertion. This is peaceful, he loves you and you love him. You’re perceived, and somehow, that’s okay with Matt. 

After a moment he kisses you again and then he carries you to bed, he’s your loving, protective big spoon as your mind finally quietens down and you get to enjoy a deep sleep next to your handsome devil.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

You Can Talk to Me

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 5730

Summary: A night of drinks becomes something else when the reader reveals what’s been bothering her the past week. Matt tries to not be blinded by his feelings for his best friend as he comforts her, but this heartbreak may be just what she needs to see what’s right in front of her. 

Notes: Yet another Matt comfort imagine, surprise surprise. I guess the thing about heartbreak, is it gives you plenty to write about. I don’t really have much else for this one, other than I’m just writing whatever I need right now. And fuck it, if that means combining smut with a comfort imagine, so be it. This is a lot, but I loved every minute of writing it. 

Warnings: Angst, 18+ SMUT (choking, oral, unprotected, the works)

More Matt Imagines Here

-

Karen checked her watch again, head peeking over the growing crowd at Josie’s to try and spot the fourth member of their get-together. 

“She’s never late,” Karen said, frowning. She turned to the two men waiting with her. “Maybe I should call again.”

Matt listened. Old rock hits played over the speakers and a group of men bickered by the pool table, but past the buzz of the neon and slight muffling through the window pane, he heard it. Quick, shallow breaths and a hurried heartbeat paired with the sharpness of salt in the air. 

Matt stiffened. 

You were crying. 

He heard as you took a few deep breaths and hastily wiped your cheeks. 

You pushed open the door to the bar with a strained smile and searching eyes. 

“She’s here,” Matt said, his tone turned solemn.

What happened? 

Foggy beamed, spotting you by the entrance. “How does he do that?”

Matt’s head tilted, analyzing your movements as you made your way through the crowd. Karen and Foggy were still looking for a table, but he could practically feel the effort it took to keep up your sunny demeanor. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, finally reaching them. “I got an unexpected call from work.” 

Your heart skipped. 

Matt’s worry deepened. 

You’d never lied to them before. 

Karen waved it off. “Well, you’re here now.”

“Let the party commence!” Foggy cheered. 

Matt gave you a small smile. You did your best to return it. The other two left to get more drinks. 

“Work, huh?” Matt prompted. 

Your heart skipped again. “Yeah, they just needed to run something by me. No big deal.” 

“Right.”

You noticed the twitch in his smile, the gentleness in his tone. You should have known he’d be able to tell something was wrong. He always did. It didn’t help that you’d been avoiding your friends these past two weeks. Especially Matt- because you knew this would happen. Somehow, he just saw you. 

“How are the cases coming?” You asked, hoping to get the attention off of you. “You guys just won the worker’s comp case you’d been working so hard on right?”

Matt’s smile returned. “Yeah, we did.” He motioned in the direction of his partner. “Foggy’s closing statement really sealed it for us. You would have loved it.”

“Well, I unfortunately had a civil case across the hall.” You flexed your hands. “God, they talked so much I thought my fingers would fall off.”

The two of you chuckled.

“You should take some of that vacation time you talked about.” He cleared his throat, shifting almost uncomfortably. “Maybe go somewhere with Sam.” 

You stiffened and glanced down at the table. “Yeah, Matt, about that-”

“Your elixir of drunkenness, milady.” Foggy set your bourbon down with a flourish. 

You laughed, grateful for the interruption. “Why thank you, sir.”

Matt sighed lightly and sipped his beer, gripping the bottle a little tighter. 

What the hell did Sam do?

You took a long, slow drink and let the burn wash away any other feeling. It worked… if only a little bit.

Karen led you all to a booth she’d picked out towards the back of the bar. 

“So,” she said, taking the seat beside Foggy, sticking you beside the human lie detector. “What have you been up to? It seems like it’s been forever since we’ve actually seen you.”

You gulped and slid into the booth, Matt following after you. You almost stammered when his knee bumped against yours.

“Um, it’s been okay.”

Matt raised a brow at your hesitation, nudging you again. It wasn’t like you to hide things. Not from him. 

You took a deep breath and ripped off the bandaid. “Sam and I broke up.”

Foggy’s eyes widened, Karen’s softened, and Matt took another drink. 

“I’m okay though,” you quickly followed up. 

Lie.

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said. He paused, then perked up. “Do you want another drink?”

“Foggy,” Karen scolded.

“What? Break-ups are the perfect reason to get wasted!”

You snickered and downed the rest of your whiskey. “I wouldn’t say no to another round.” 

Foggy turned to the others. 

Matt shrugged, still listening intently to your uneven breathing. “I’ll have what she’s having.” 

Karen leaned, reaching a comforting hand toward yours. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No, I couldn’t,” you shook your head. “We’re celebrating you guys tonight.” You took the drink Foggy handed you and raised your glass. “To Nelson and Murdock.” 

Matt clinked his whiskey to yours. “And to being there for friends,” he added pointedly. 

“Here here,” Karen cheered before you could shoot him a glare.

The next hour was filled with drinks and laughter. It helped you feel a little more like yourself- something you’d been trying to do for weeks. Every time Foggy made a joke or Matt “accidentally” brushed against your arm, the hole in your chest felt a little smaller. 

And then you saw him.

Matt heard his voice first. His tense shoulders were why you looked up. 

Sam had his arm around a pretty girl with dark hair. You’d seen her at his office before. His head turned, eyes meeting yours. 

It was like you weren’t there. 

Sam waved at Foggy and went to the other side of the bar, as far away from you as possible. 

“That’s just cold,” Foggy said, shaking his head. 

You finished your third drink. If you had anymore here you’d start crying and you were not going to let that happen. Not in front of all of them. Not til you were home. If Sam could not care, so could you. 

“Do you want to leave?” Matt asked softly. 

You swallowed back the panic attack rising in your throat. “No. We should finish our drinks.”

“Do you want another?” Karen offered. 

“I’ll just get water to end the night, thanks.” 

Matt knew what that meant. You’d finish the night at home, by yourself, drinking until you fell asleep numb. A coping mechanism you had only ever confided in him about. It was easier for you to face everything alone, or at least you convinced yourself it was. He could relate to that.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from shifting toward the couple across the bar, no matter how hard you tried. You watched Sam’s eyes glisten every time he looked at her. He laughed loud enough for the sound to reach over the crowd. 

God, you felt so stupid. 

Matt couldn’t do it anymore. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense the way just sitting there was eating at you, the idea of you hurting was enough to break him. 

“Hey, I’ve got some leftover enchiladas from the Galindo case,” he said, leaving closer to you so his breath was against your ear. “Want to help me get through them?” Before you could make an excuse, he finished with. “They’ll go bad if you don’t. You know how often I forget dinner.” He playful bumped his shoulder into yours. 

You rolled your eyes. “And I keep telling you that one of these days you’ll keel over and I won’t run to help you.” 

“Yes you would,” he teased. “You like me too much.”

“Maybe,” you laughed. 

He could always do that. And the idea of going home alone…

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” You held up a finger, “but only if I can go through your record collection.”

Matt grinned. “Deal.”

Karen saw your gaze flit back to where it was before and leaned to whisper to you. 

“I know this isn’t much help now,” she said, “but you’re better off without him.” 

“Yeah, I never liked the smug sonofabitch anyway,” Foggy added a little too loudly.

“Shhhh,” you and Karen both hissed. 

You thought you saw Sam glance over and ducked to hide your face in Matt’s shoulder. 

Karen looked between the two of you, but kept her comments to herself, though her smile grew. 

Matt chuckled and took your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb in a way that said ‘it’s gonna be okay.’

-

Foggy and Karen got a cab but both you and Matt felt okay enough to walk back to his apartment in the warm New York spring air. There was still a bite in the breeze, lingering from winter. Only wearing a nice tee, you shivered. 

“Are you cold?” Matt asked, already taking off his suit jacket. He put it around your shoulders without you even having to ask. 

Karen shot you a smirk. 

You mouthed ‘Seriously?’

She snickered and closed the cab door. 

You quickly turned to Matt, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks- not knowing he could sense it, of course. “Ready?”

Matt smiled and held out his arm. “Lead the way.” 

His easy demeanor helped to calm you a little and when his arm hooked through yours, it felt like he was the one guiding you. Maybe he was, in a way.

“It’s really nice tonight,” you said, trying- and failing- not to sound awkward. 

“Are you talking to me about the weather?” Matt teased. 

Your face reddened even more. “Leave me alone, I’m-” you searched for a word, flustered. “Fragile.” 

He snickered. “Fragile, huh?”

“Yes,” you nudged his side with your elbow. “Fragile. Which means you have to be nice to me.” 

“I’m being very nice,” he said in mock offense. “I’m feeding you Seniora Galindo’s enchiladas and letting you rummage through my records. I’d say I am your knight in shining red glass this evening.” He poked you right back.

“You have certainly been chivalrous,” you smiled and fell into silence, the weight on your chest sucking the energy out of you. 

This was how it had been. One moment, you were okay, and the next…

It was like you only had two true modes of being. 

Angry.

Or empty.

There was much in between. It was getting harder and harder to remember that any of it had been good to begin with. 

The way his eyes just slide past you at the bar. 

The way he practically ignored you in the conversations at work.

The way he wouldn’t even talk to you about what happened. 

Like you weren’t there.

Like you were nothing. 

The word hit you. It struck you in the chest like someone had put their hands around your ribs and pushed. 

But you kept walking.

Matt sensed the shift- the hitch in your breath and the hesitation in your step. He wanted to stop you right there and pull you into his secure embrace to block out the thoughts that plagued you. The hurt. He wished he could stop it. 

But he waited. 

You were grateful for the jacket wrapped tightly around you because the night had turned colder by the time the two of you reached Matt’s apartment building. Still pushing down that dark empty ache, you climbed the stairs with your eyes trained on the ground. 

Matt opened the door, ushering you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

The touch made you flinch, not because it was uncomfortable, but because the gesture brought out more feeling than you were prepared for. Every nerve was set on edge. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, seeing Matt pull away. 

He shook his head, still giving you that small smile. “You don’t have to apologize.”

He let you go first into the living room, where you took a seat close to the window. Staring out at the bright, shifting lights of the billboard, you breathed out for what felt like the first time since you saw Sam in the bar.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” you mused. You felt Matt take a seat, the cushions shifting beside you. His arm grazed your back as he draped it over the back of the couch. 

“Y/N,” he started softly.

You blinked back tears, a pleading in your voice. “Matt…” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He put a finger under your chin and gently turned your face toward him. “I know you’re holding something back. Why?” There was a desperation in his voice, a need to do something- anything to make it better. 

“I can’t.” You still tried to fight against the emotions trying to choke you. 

Maybe Sam had the right idea when he stopped speaking to you altogether. And you still didn’t know why. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Matt whispered, moving closer to you. “You can talk to me.” 

Those five words were all it took. Two weeks of being blamed and ignored and confused and devastated hit you all at once.

Matt felt the break before the first tear fell. He felt your lips tremble, still trying to hold back the words that were tearing you apart. It shattered him. Matt wrapped his arms around you and this time you didn’t flinch away. 

You crashed against him like the waves inside your chest. 

“Tell me what’s been going on, sweetheart,” Matt urged, his tone as sweet as the endearment he called you. “Just talk to me.”

“He won't-” You sucked back a sob. “He won’t talk to me. I thought, when he broke up with me, that things were okay between us. That we could be friends like we were before. But now, he won’t even look at me.”

Matt thought about Sam’s quickly shuffling feet, his spiked heartbeat when he saw them there. Like he couldn’t get away fast enough. But why? The last time Matt had been around the two of you, Sam seemed fine. Matt didn’t particularly like the guy but he made you happy. Or he used to, anyway.

“It’s not like I thought Sam was ‘the one’ or anything,” you said, calming yourself down. “But I thought these past two months at least meant something. He’s acting like they didn’t even happen.” You wrapped your arms around your legs, tucking yourself into the corner of the couch. “And I feel like an idiot because we weren’t together for long but… I guess he’d become one of my best friends and now it’s like I’m not… anything, anymore.” 

Your last statement struck Matt, but he didn’t push it. Not yet. 

“And he hasn’t told you why? He just-” Matt sighed. “Disappeared on you?”

More like he made you disappear. 

You curled up more. 

“And there’s nothing I can do about it.” There was no hiding the defeat in your tone. You wiped a stray tear. “I just wanted something to work out for once.” How many times could your heart break again and again and again before it gave up?

Matt kept an arm around your shoulders. He moved closer so you could lay your head on his shoulder and blew out a breath. “I know.”

His soft touch set you off again. Your cries were quiet, your tears slow. You didn’t have the energy to sob. 

Matt tucked you in his arms, waiting. It wasn’t his place to push, not when everything was so raw. Not when part of him wished he could kiss your tears away. 

He’d always wondered if his dislike of Sam came out of jealousy. Matt felt he had waited too long and he lost his chance when Sam came along. 

He felt horrible, thinking about that now, but it lingered nonetheless. 

“Thank you,” you sniffed, sitting up again. “I really didn’t want to go home alone again.”

You’d counted every crack in your ceiling three times already.

“You can come over whenever you need to, okay?” Matt smiled. “You liven up the place.”

You snorted. 

“I’m serious,” he said. Matt leaned over and kissed your forehead. “You warm every room you’re in.”

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but when your lips brushed against his- just for a moment- Matt pulled away.

“Wait,” he said. The kiss barely lasted a second, but he sounded breathless. His smile almost seemed nervous. “You haven’t picked a record yet.” 

You swallowed hard. “O-okay.”

While you walked to his crate records, Matt tried to force his heartbeat to slow down. Just the brief touch had his head spinning. But you were vulnerable and hurting. He couldn’t bear the idea of taking advantage of that. To keep himself busy, he got up to go to the kitchen, getting you a glass of water.

You picked a soft 90s alt album and put the needle on. Quiet drums filled the space but did little to silence your mind. You went back to the couch but didn’t sit down. You took the water but didn’t drink. 

Neither of you said anything for a while. 

Finally, the guilty part of you took over.

“Sam’s going through a lot,” you reasoned. “Between his caseload and things going on with his family…” God, maybe you were being the selfish one here. 

Matt held onto the back of the couch, unfocused eyes trained on the carpet. “That doesn’t mean he gets to treat you like this.”

You turned away. “I know.”

Matt let go of the leather and walked to you. “You deserve better than this, Y/N.” 

“I know.” Your heart faltered again. Another lie. 

Despite the voice in his head telling him to stop, Matt put a hand on your arm, fingers squeezing gently to get you to face him. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

You found yourself leaning into his touch again. At least it made you feel something again. When you spoke, it was almost too quiet. If it hadn’t been Matt, he might not have heard you.

“I’ve never had someone make me feel like I was…” The words cracked inside you. “Like I’m nothing the way he has.”

Matt’s heart broke completely. 

How could anyone make you think that? How could anyone not see how incredible and important and- he couldn’t even think of enough words to capture the growing need in his chest. A need to not have you feel this way anymore. 

“Y/N, no,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “You aren’t nothing. You mean so much to so many people. To Foggy and Karen. To me-” he took a deep breath. “Y/N, you’re everything.”

Suddenly you weren’t thinking of Sam or the girl he was with. You weren’t thinking about your emptiness or your anger. All that mattered, all you felt… was him.

“Matt,” you breathed him in, shaking with your next request. “Please.”

Matt’s lips ghosted yours. He was standing so close you thought you could hear his heartbeat. 

“Are you sure?” If you said no, he would step back and you would never have to worry about him not speaking to you. He could never leave you like that, no matter how he felt. But if you said yes-

“I need you, Matt,” you whimpered. You didn’t know how true it was until you said it. 

Until he closed the space between you, capturing any other words with his lips. 

Matt wished his kiss alone could show you how much you meant. He tried to convey every feeling with the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue, his hand moving to cup the back of your head. 

A soft moan escaped your throat as his tongue explored your mouth. You tilted your head back, giving him better access. 

The sound ignited through Matt. He held you tighter, hands falling to grip your waist while his mouth moved to your ear. 

“You’re everything,” he repeated, breath on your skin. 

You moaned again, fingers gripping his button down, pulling him back toward the couch. 

Matt’s hold tightened, keeping you in place. He chuckled and shook his head. “If we’re doing this.” He lifted you up in his arms. 

You yelped. 

He wrapped your legs around his waist. “We’re going to do it right.”

He carried you steadily to his room and laid you down on silk sheets. Matt hovered over you for a moment, letting his senses take everything in. 

Impatient, you tugged on his hair.

Again, he just chuckled, using one hand to grab your wrists and hold them over your head.

You raised a brow. This was a side of the snarky lawyer you hadn’t entirely expected. Not that you were complaining. 

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, a smug smile spreading across his face. There was the Matt you knew. “I need you to be patient.” He kissed along the collar of your shirt. “And let me make you feel good.”

“That’s two things,” you teased. 

He nipped at your collarbone hard enough to make you gasp.

“O-okay, Matt.” 

“Good girl,” he said lowly. From how your body responded, he kept that in mind for later.

Matt pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons.

You admired the curves of his torso, leading downward to the waistband of his pants and what lay beneath.

“Matt,” you said, a slight whine in your voice. 

He smirked. 

Bastard.

You pulled those smug lips back to yours, kissing him with just a smidge of defiance. 

Matt’s hand made its way to your throat, squeezing just enough to hold you down.

“Be. Patient.” He growled again with a deeper tone.

He removed your shirt and bra in two swift motions. Matt didn’t waste any time roaming his hands over your body, committing every touch to memory.

Your breathing hitched as his fingers each ran over your peaked nipples. Rough yet gentle hands massaged your breasts. Matt rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive buds again if only to hear that lovely little gasp again. 

He took a moment to remember how this all started. As one hand teased its way down your stomach, the other took hold of your chin. 

“You are not nothing,” Matt said firmly. His fingers dipped beneath the fabric, undoing the button of your jeans. “I want you to say it.”

You bit your lip and tried to turn away, but his hold wouldn’t let you.

Matt kissed your lips then trailed his way to your chest, listening to your heart. 

“Please?” He kissed the skin in the valley of your breasts.

You breathed out a sigh. “I am not nothing.” 

“I know you can do better than that.” Matt trailed his kisses over the slope of your skin so that his lips hovered over your nipple. “Come on, sweetheart. I need you to believe it.”

“I am not nothing,” you said a little more confidently despite the hitch in your words when the tips of his fingers grazed your clit.

Matt nodded before taking your nipple into his mouth. Your jeans and panties were quick to join the rest of your clothes on the floor and his fingers pressed down on your bundle of nerves. 

You had to bite back another whine. Between his teeth tugging on your nipple and his fingertips beginning agonizingly slow circles, you were already coming apart at the seams. Each swirl of his tongue matched the motions against your clit. It ignited every one of your senses, enveloping you in him. 

Matt sucked a little harsher, eliciting the moan you were holding back. 

And he reveled in it. 

While Matt switched his attention to your other tit, he accelerated his circles on your clit. 

“God, Matt.” You finally moved your hands from where he’d placed them above your head and tangled them in his hair. 

He could hear your heartbeat quickening, hear the unevenness in your breathing as he wound you tighter and tighter with just the tips of his fingers. 

“That’s it,” he cooed, replacing his nipping and sucking with soft licks and kisses across your chest. You knew you’d have several marks in the morning, which excited you even more. Matt rubbed harder and faster. “That’s it, baby.”

Your climax crashed into you before you could prepare. Your hands pulled on his hair, loud whining gasp escaping your lips. Matt caught the sound in a kiss, letting it vibrate through him perfectly. He kept up his flicking, figure-eight motions to help you ride out the high. 

You tugged his bottom lip between your teeth, draping your arms around his neck. Closer. You needed him closer.

And yet, he pulled away. Matt smiled at your whimper, laying one hand on your cheek and bringing the other to his lips, licking your glisten from his fingers. You turned your head, taking two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking sweetly. 

Matt felt something snap inside him. With a deep rumble from his chest, he moved to stand at the foot of the bed, yanking you down to the edge. 

You sat up, hands reaching for his belt. You needed him. 

Matt pushed you back on the bed quick enough that you bounced on the mattress.

“Not yet,” he smirked, laying an arm across you to hold you down. There was something different about his smile. Something devilish.

Then he knelt in front of you. 

Your head fell back against the silk sheets as he bit your inner thigh, soothing the spot with his tongue. He did this up and down your legs, all the while holding you to the bed to keep your hips from bucking and giving you more friction than he allowed. 

“Ma-ah-” You gasped as his tongue finally swept up the length of your core. 

Matt’s head swam with every detail his heightened senses were taking in. From the taste of you to the way his name fell from your lips fueled his movements. He closed his lips over your clit, spelling your name into the sensitive nerves with his tongue- then spelling his own. 

Your core pulsed around nothing, tightening the more wrecked you with his mouth. 

“Fuck, Matthew,” you moaned. 

Matt lapped at your center, completely taken by the overwhelming burning inside him that you stoked with your noises and your scent and your taste. 

You almost screamed with the coming of your second climax, even more intense than the first. The ache inside of you just got worse as you gushed, still empty and needy. 

Matt drank in everything you gave him, pushing you as far as you could go. 

As he crawled back up to you, your limbs trembling and your heart racing, he kissed you gently, letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, afraid he’d gotten carried away. 

“I need more,” you pleaded, gulping down breaths. “Please, Matty?”

He smiled that devilish smile again. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Matty.” You keened, hands trying to reach again for him, but he held you firmly. “I need you inside me.” You pouted your lips. “I need you to hold me.”

Matt kissed you again, this time softer, trailing down your neck as he backed away to take off the rest of his clothes. 

You got just a glimpse of him before he laid you on your side and it was enough to have you aching even more. 

He laid beside you, holding your back to his chest. 

“Okay, baby.” 

Matt pushed inside of you, arms locked around your middle. He bit down on your shoulder to contain his moan while your breathless cry rang through the room. 

“So good, sweetheart,” he murmured, bringing his hips back. “You feel so good.”

“Just for you, M-Matt.” You laid your head back in the crook of his neck. 

Matt snapped his hips back, plunging his cock deeper inside your pulsing walls. “Atta girl.” 

You rutted back against him, every movement inside of you bringing a whimper with each brush of his shaft against the blinding spot within. 

Matt held you as close to his body as possible, making it harder to tell where he ended and you began. He slipped a hand up to wrap around your throat, turning your face to kiss you. His tongue claimed your mouth while he continued to rock in and out of you. In and out. A perfect, steady rhythm that stayed deep inside your core while being just slow enough to keep you wanting more. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Matt whispered, saying your name like a sacred prayer. 

“God, Matty,” you said, feeling his hand around your throat. “Matt, I’m-” You were cut off by a loud moan when he hit that spot that made you see stars even harder than before. 

“I know,” Matt cooed. “I know you want to give me another one. I know, sweetheart.” He gripped your neck a little tighter. “But I need you to wait a little longer.” 

“But Matty…” The hot coil inside you constricted more and more. 

“I know, baby,” he smirked against your jaw. “Here, I’ll count with you, okay?”

You tried to think past the haze of him. “O-okay, Matt.”

“Alright.” His free hand returned to your clit, making it even harder for you to hold back. “Count with me and I’ll let you come. One.”

You took a shaking breath. “One.”

“Two.”

“T-two.” 

This continued his thrusts, getting faster, leaving you both panting by the final count. 

“Ten,” Matt growled, nipping the back of your neck, having been struggling to hold on himself. 

“Ten,” you exclaimed. “Ten ten ten. Matt please.”

He wicked a line up to your ear, biting the soft flesh there. 

“Come for me, Y/N.”

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair again as overwhelming shocks of pleasure burned through you like wildfire. As Matt spilled into you, his hips stuttering against your ass, you stopped feeling anything else. Everything was this moment. 

Neither of you even had a moment to say anything, completely overcome by pleasant exhaustion. 

Matt cradled you to him and you fell asleep tangled with his body. He breathed in your scent, smiling as he let sleep take over him as well. 

-

You woke up to a warm sun and an empty bed. A moment of confusion clouded your tired mind before memories of the night flooded your senses. 

Seeing Sam at the bar.

The emptiness in your chest. The nothingness. 

Then coming here with Matt…

Matt.

“Oh God.” You sat up, silk sheets slipping over your skin. 

You had sex with Matt. Your best friend. Amazing, mind-blowing sex, but at what cost? Was one night worth screwing up years of friendship? And where was he? Was he so disgusted by what you’d done he couldn't bear to be around you anymore? 

Those fears consumed you as you scrambled to gather your things and get dressed. You found the living room empty, making your stomach sink even more. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut.

You screwed up the most important relationship in your life… all because you saw your ex at a bar. 

How you felt about Matt- feelings you were realizing you had- didn’t matter. You’d fucked everything up. 

Matt was climbing the stairs with coffee in hand when he heard the racing, panicked heart in his apartment from a floor down. One thought leaped to the front of his mind.

You regretted everything. 

With every hurried step, Matt grew more furious with himself. What was he thinking? He’d let his feelings for you get in the way during a difficult time and now you hated him for it. 

He would apologize. He had to. He couldn’t risk the relationship you already had. Even if it meant ignoring how he really felt. 

He opened the door with sorry on his lips, but you beat him to it.

“Oh thank God, you’re back,” you sighed. From your tone and the lingering salt in the air, he knew you’d been crying. His fault.

“It is my apartment,” he teased. If he could just get things back to how they were-

“I know, but when I woke up you were gone and-” You took a deep breath. “I understand if this makes things too complicated and you don’t want to speak to me again. I promise I didn’t plan any of this and-”

“Y/N, wait.” Matt interrupted, finally understanding. 

It wasn’t regret. 

It was fear. Like his. Only, you had just gone through something similar with Sam, which made everything even worse. 

“I know you have a lot going on,” you said, trying to hold it together. “I won’t add to that. Not over a-” The words stung as you said them. “Over a pity fuck.”

And just like last night, Matt’s heart broke for you.

“Is that what you thought it was?” Matt asked quietly. 

“I don’t know.” You fell back onto the couch and stared at your lap, unable to look at him anymore. “First everything with Sam now I’m going to lo-” You couldn’t finish, sucking in a breath to keep from crying. 

Matt crossed the living room and sat beside you. Slowly, carefully, he took your hand in his. He laid it on his chest so you could feel the steadiness of his heart. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said. 

You focused on that heartbeat. 

Matt moved his hands to cup your face. 

“Last night wasn’t about Sam or the breakup or the bar.” He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Last night was about us. You and me. And we can make it mean whatever we want it to or nothing at all. But Y/N,” he sighed, “you are not going to lose me.”

You let his words sink in and made yourself believe them, at least right now.

Matt pulled you closer, gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you glanced at the table, finally taking in the scent of the coffee. 

“So that's where you disappeared to,” you laughed a little at yourself for panicking. 

Matt nodded, his hands falling to his lap. “Yeah, I was out and I know how you get without your caffeine.”

“Hey,” you snickered, poking his side.

“I knew I could get a smile.”

You blushed. “How do you even know?”

“Trust me,” he beamed. “I know.”

The two of you decided that you would figure it out at whatever pace you both needed. He was your best friend and you loved each other. And you would no matter what. Still, the prospect of being together, of taking your relationship a step further, excited both of you more than you admitted. 

There was, however, a promise Matthew had yet to keep…

So you had enchiladas for breakfast.

[dilfth1rster]

Smut Requests - @dilfth1rster

REQUEST HERE <----- click

+18!!!!!!!!!

Hi I'm Miko! Here you can ask filthy questions/send ideas/ask me thoughts on anyone anything smut related :)

Who I write for/am interested in(roles included):

Chris Evans

Pedro Pascal

Andrew Lincoln

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Henry Cavill

Jensen Ackles

Charlie Cox

Jon Bernthal

Daniel Craig

Jason Momoa

Oscar Isaac

Ryan Reynolds

David Harbour

Theo James

Jake Gyllenhaal

Ryan Gosling

AND MORE!!!!!!

+ you can request people not listed here as long as they're my type(muscled middle aged man(mostly) or a nice dad bod(bears)) I can figure something out or you can always ask in the request field (click) as well :)

What I like (fetishes/kinks) and Do's and Don'ts

Daddy Kink/Breeding/Roleplay/Age-Gap/Non-Con/Dub-Con/Bondage/Hands/Body Hair/Facial Hair/Size Difference/Dirty Talk/Mandhandling/!Dark/Piss/Watersports/Feet/Finger-fucking/ and sucking/Body/Piercing/Worship/Degradation/Humiliation/Stepcest/Incest/Deepthroat/ and more! (ask)

I don't do

Gore/Weird body mods/Animal related stuff(get help)/Scat/Pedophilia/ hmmmm I think that's it

I hope to please you and let's have some fun together!!! :)

[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.

[l0vergirlwrites]

no pressure ; matthew murdock

warnings: mentions of sex, anxiety, few swear words, suggestiveness, comfort!matt

matthew & you as a couple was sill fairly new.

he hasn’t been in a serious relationship since electra, & you have never been in one either. so, you both had a lot to catch up & learn. besides learning each other’s love languages, favourite foods, hygiene habits, etc, you both still struggle with communication at times—especially when it comes to going to the next level in your relationship: intimacy.

for matthew, he’s had his fair share of intimate nights with partners, but you—you have never gone that far yet. & by knowing matthew’s history, you felt embarrassed & discouraged in telling him your inexperience with intimacy.

you tried avoiding the conversation for as long as you could, just telling matthew that you wanted to “take things slow & easy” for a while. & it did work… but only for five months.

it all started when matthew pulled you into a kiss after some lawyer ball the firm was invited to attend. the whole group, consisting of foggy, karen, matthew, & yourself had dressed up in your best attire to enjoy an evening of cocktails, expensive appetizers, & networking connections.

the whole night was a success, but matthew couldn’t help but feel his mind race at the thought of the way you felt tonight.

your perfume

your dress

your touch

he wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to show you how you made him feel… in other ways.

so when you both arrived to his apartment after deciding you’d spend the night at his, matthew tapped your chin & held your cheek, pulling you into a long kiss. your clutch fell out of your hand & thumped onto the ground as your hands held onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

“you,” kiss “were” kiss “amazing tonight” matthew mumbled as he continued to kiss your lips, eventually leading you to smile, teeth clashing against his own for a moment.

“shouldn’t i be saying that to you, mr. murdock? those other lawyers thought you were the shit” your compliment made matthew laugh into your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin, his hands running down towards your thighs as you leaned against his wall.

“say mr. murdock again & see where that’ll get you, won’t ya?” he teased, only to kiss your lips again when you repeated it, turning your giggles into heavy breaths.

soon enough, you were making out on the couch—hands holding whatever they could. yours were in matthew’s messy hair while his were on your ass, firmly holding you in place as you straddled his slack covered lap.

each kiss, each breath, each touch—you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of bliss, & you knew matthew was feeling it too. it wasn’t until a kiss on your neck made you bite back a small moan, & make you grow quiet & stiff in matthew’s grip.

he could smell your arousal building throughout the last while on the couch, but the tension bubbling on your skin made him pull away from your neck & raise his hands to your waist. “what’s wrong? did i-i do something? do you want to stop?” he asked carefully, his concern dripped with nothing but love.

but you thought the worst of it.

staying still in his lap, you felt your mouth grow dry. “n-no it wasn’t you, i just uh… fuck. i don’t know how to say it” you rushed, running your hands over your warm face in embarrassment.

with an end outing rub on your waist, matthew tutted. “sweetheart, you can tell me. i’m a big boy, i can handle it” he assured, sensing you peeking through your fingers before they dropped to your lap.

silence over took you for a moment as you fidgeted your fingers, hearing matthew let out a nervous breath.

“i’ve never had sex” you blurted, awkwardness rising in your chest at saying your fear out loud. “& i’m scared you won’t want me… it’s stupid i know—“

“it is stupid” matthew cut you off, shaking his head a little when he took one of your nervous hands into his.

“how could i not want you because of that?” matthew genuinely asked, not sure of where this idea of yours came from.

he knew it possibly stemmed from insecurity, but he needed you to say it.

shrugging your shoulders, you felt yourself caving into your body. “i never dated anyone…never hooked up… never had a boyfriend… no one has ever wanted me until now” you trailed on, your lips in the shape of a frown at hearing your loneliness be spoken about out loud.

matthew’s lips also frowned at the sound of your heartbeat slowing in a sad tempo, so he pulled you closer to his chest in a hug. you hid your face in his neck, eyes shut & breathing slow as you tried to relax. his hands worked their way along your back until one hand cradled the back of your head.

“i don’t care that you’ve never had sex before. that isn’t a deal breaker for me. never has been, never will be. okay? i’ll always want you y/n…” he told you firmly, trying his hardest to make you understand that you could trust him, be vulnerable to him without shame.

he felt your nod your head before a sigh slipped your lips. “i-i want you to be my first, i really do. i just don’t know when i’ll be fully ready” you confessed, hoping that he wouldn’t be questioning if he did something wrong.

“& that’s okay. i can wait for you, y/n. wanna treat you good when you want it, yeah?” he kissed your head once he felt the tension in your shoulders subside & you held onto him tighter.

“thank you” you pressed a kiss to his neck, your nose soon rubbing over the spot tenderly.

“no,” he paused, bringing your face to be in front of his. “thank you”

with your anxiousness dissipating in the air, you kissed the palm of matthew’s hand. “lemme treat you to a shower hmm? with the fancy body wash?” he suggested, just wanting to be close to you in a way that you both have done on multiple occasions—it was his way of showing you that things were good.

leaning into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile & feel warm. you felt lucky that he was so understanding.

“yeah, i’d like that”

[lokicharms]

Daredevil confronted with having to find someone without letting others know he can't see

Daredevil: Any info on that informant who escaped?

Punisher: the guy you're looking for always wears a green shirt.

Daredevil: Uh... anything else?

Punisher: he has brown hair.

Daredevil: and...?

Punisher: oh! He has a huge scar on his neck.

Daredevil: does he have an accent or any non visual identifier???

Punisher: he's from New York.

Daredevil: that doesn't narrow it down.

Punisher: I don't know what to tell you, Red! He's got a face tattoo that says "damaged" on his forehead. Impossible to miss!

Daredevil: AAAARGH!!!

[writingdumpster]

first impressions

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: none I think

summary: i wrote this purely bc i know matt murdock is excellent at meeting people’s mothers. after impressing your parents matt gets to thinking about his future.

word count: 1.6k

“I’m nervous.” You sat next to Matt in the restaurant he had chosen for the evening. It was fancy. There was a pianist in one corner of the room and linen tablecloths. It was nicer than the hole-in-the-wall joints that you and Matt usually preferred. He wanted to impress your parents though, so he had made a reservation at a swanky restaurant in midtown Manhattan. 

Matt was in his court suit and you had donned the blue silk dress he bought for your anniversary. It was by far your favorite dress. Beyond being a treasured gift, it fit you perfectly and the fabric always felt soft against your skin. Karen had helped Matt pick it out, but she had told you that all she did was describe the dresses and that he had completely ignored her opinions. She had strongly recommended a yellow dress but he had refused her suggestions, insisting you would like the one he picked better. Never having seen the yellow one, you knew he was right. If he picked it, you loved it. You would have him choose between options you put out when you got dressed in the mornings by describing them to him and he always had you match his tie to the rest of his outfit. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Matt said and kissed your temple. 

“I only ever introduced Caleb to my parents,” you told him, not that you hadn’t said it before. Matt knew that Caleb was not someone you had pleasant memories of. He had heard the stories from you and he was the one who helped you get over many of the fears that Caleb had struck into you. Matt was remembering those stories while he heard in your heartbeat how nervous you were. 

“You know I’m not like Caleb,” Matt reminded you. 

“I know, Matt. I just…this is a big deal for me,” you said. 

“It’s a big deal for me too, sweetheart,” Matt told you. “It’s just an exciting big deal for me.” You inhaled deeply. Matt smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. Moms always like me, angel. It’ll be great,” he assured you. 

“All women like you,” you said. Matt laughed lightly. 

“Then that will include your mom, won’t it?” He asked rhetorically. He gave you a light peck as he tangled his fingers with yours beneath the table. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed. You sighed. 

“You’re right. I know they’re going to love you. I just…” You hesitated. 

“Caleb was a mistake and you think it’s bad luck,” Matt said, always knowing what you were thinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“This isn’t a mistake, sweetheart. I promise. It’s just the next step,” he told you. You nodded and Matt gave your hand a squeeze. You looked up at the doorway to the restaurant. 

“They’re here,” you said. You rose from the table and greeted your mom and dad with hugs. Matt was standing by your side with a charming smile across his face. 

“Hello, Mrs. y/l/n,” Matt greeted with a smile. Your mom held her arms out to Matt and pulled him into a hug. He returned it kindly.  

“Oh, please, call me y/m/n,” your mom said. “Y/N has told us so much about you. I think we can be on a first name basis,” your mom said. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as your mom told Matt how you spoke about him. Matt simply turned to you and smiled. He loved that you told your parents about him. He wished he could tell his dad all about you. Your father held out his hand for Matt to shake. Matt stayed still, not wanting to give up his powers. You took Matt’s hand and pulled it to where your father’s hand was waiting. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” your dad said in embarrassment as he shook Matt’s hand. Matt chuckled lightly. 

“That’s alright, sir. Took y/n months to stop answering me with nods,” Matt joked. 

“It was not months,” you said sharply. 

“You still do it sometimes,” Matt teased. You pursed your lips, biting back the comment about how you knew he could tell. The four of you sat down, Matt pulling out your mother’s chair for her before doing the same for you and taking his seat.

Matt was right about mothers loving him. He charmed your mom with his dry sense of humor and enchanting smile. He won your dad’s approval when he mentioned he owned his own law firm. Your father didn’t need to know that Nelson and Murdock was nearly always on the edge of bankruptcy. Your parents told Matt stories about you from your childhood, despite your protests that they were too embarrassing. Matt loved the stories. All he could do was smile at you. The night was perfect. Matt was perfect. Your father refused Matt’s attempt to pay for the meal before the four of you left. You said your goodbyes in front of the restaurant before getting into different cabs and going back home. Matt’s hand was resting innocently on your leg while the two of you sat in the back of the cab. 

“I told you it was going to be fine,” Matt teased you. You rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, you were right, Murdock,” you agreed. Matt chuckled. 

“Doesn’t happen that often. I have to brag when it does,” he said. The cab pulled up outside of your apartment and the two of you got out. You made your way up the stairs and walked through the sliding door. The glow of the billboard outside of your window was blue. A new advertiser had taken over a few weeks earlier and the red light that usually filled the room had been replaced with a blue light, making it seem like your apartment was bathed in moonlight. You were looking through the mail that you had collected on your way up. 

You realized you didn’t know where Matt went when music started playing. You smiled to yourself as you tossed away the junk mail. Suddenly you felt hands on your hips as Matt pulled you away from the counter. He spun you around and moved one of his hands to the small of your back. The other went to cup your hand in his. You giggled before moving to wrap your free arm around his shoulders, fingers tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck as the two of you began swaying back and forth. Matt loosened his hold on your waist and moved to let you spin beneath his arm before pulling you back into his body and dipping you. 

When Matt pulled you back upright you leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. Matt smiled against your lips. You stared into his eyes when you leaned away. His eyes were so beautiful. You never cared that his eyes didn’t see you the way yours saw him. He saw you in so many other ways. 

“You really impressed them,” you said as you leaned closer to Matt, tucking your head against his neck.

“I told you moms like me,” Matt said. 

“My dad liked you too though,” you said. 

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “We just can’t let him visit my office. He won’t be impressed anymore.” You chuckled. 

“I certainly hope he won’t ever need a lawyer,” you said. 

“If you hadn’t needed a lawyer we never would have met,” Matt reminded you. 

“Yes, and that worked out very well,” you agreed. “But when we tell our kids how we met I think we should make something up.” Matt beamed. 

“Our kids?” He asked. Your heart dropped for a moment and your face went blank. 

“I mean, umm…” You started stuttering. 

“We’ll have to get married first,” Matt interjected before you could start backpedaling. Your panic turned to excitement. You grinned. 

“You obviously have my parents' approval now,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“And you’ve certainly gotten Foggy’s approval,” Matt replied. 

“Foggy likes me better than you,” you said with a laugh. 

“Yes, I know,” Matt said flatly. “He’s very clear about that.” You held back your giggles. 

“If you came into the office with cookies instead of bruises like me he might like you more,” you joked.

“I do bring in cookies,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, but Foggy knows I made them,” you said. Matt sighed. 

“He wouldn’t like me at all if I brought in cookies that I made,” he said. You giggled at the memory of Matt trying to make your birthday cake and causing the building to evacuate after setting off the smoke alarm. 

“When we have kids I bet he’ll like them better than both of us,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“That’s alright. We can use him as a babysitter that way,” he said. 

“Maybe if Karen’s there too,” you said. Matt chuckled. 

“You don’t trust Foggy with our kids?” He asked. 

“Matty, you have told me far too many stories about you dragging Foggy back to your dorm after a frat party for me to trust Foggy with our kids,” you said. “He will most certainly let one of them do something stupid.” 

“And you think I won’t?” Matt asked. 

“You won’t let them do something stupid, you’ll do it for them,” you said. Matt spun you around in his arms once more as the song came to an end. He kissed your forehead when he pulled you back against him.  Matt’s heart was full at the way the two of you were so casually talking about your kids. He hoped it wouldn’t be long till they were real. He knew what he wanted. He didn’t want to wait for it anymore. There wasn’t anything stopping him now.

“You want to go ring shopping tomorrow?”

[farfromstrange]

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry. 

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count. 

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did. 

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something. 

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it. 

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will. 

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing. 

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone. 

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then. 

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat. 

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile. 

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much. 

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes. 

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact. 

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough. 

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself. 

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear. 

She whimpered, not wanting to answer. 

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his. 

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body. 

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point. 

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope. 

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried. 

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing. 

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself. 

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms. 

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said. 

“How?” she asked. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.” 

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