#matt murdock blurbs

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

[annab-nana]

“Quit touching me, your feet are cold!” surprise me with a character :))

i'm kinda using your 'choose whatever character' requests to write for new people so this one is going to be for matt murdock

warnings: not proofread, use of pet names (baby)

❀ masterlist ❀

you were half-asleep when you cuddled closer to matt for warmth. when winter approached, the apartment always felt colder whether the heater was on or not. matt never noticed the temperature drop or if he did, he never commented on it, but it didn't matter. he was eternally warm anyway.

"quit touching me," he mumbled, nearly asleep as well, "your feet are cold."

you didn't move away. if anything, you moved closer. "i can't help that you have the internal body temperature of molten lava and i have one of ice."

you felt his chest fall with a sigh before he rolled away to get out of bed.

"what are you doing?" you asked while rubbing your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbow.

"saving myself," he said and walked out of the room. you were too tired to get up and follow him so you stayed where you were, rolling over onto his side of the bed because it was warmer.

after a little bit, matt strolled back in and went to the dresser, opening his sock drawer. you watched in curiosity as he grabbed a pair and walked over to you. he took a seat at the end of the bed and pulled the blanket back to grab your foot.

"they're like ice, baby. i don't know how you function," he told you while slipping one of his socks onto your foot. once it was fully on, the heel of the sock went a bit past your actual heel since his socks were a bit bigger than your own, but his socks were also thicker than yours. after he put the other sock on you, he put the blanket back over you and left the room once more, only to come back in with a mug in his hands.

"what's that?" you inquired when you scooted back to let him lay on his side again.

"tea," he stated when he got in bed with you again, pulling you to cuddle into his side. "to help warm you up."

you took the mug from his hands and took a sip, feeling the warm liquid fall down your throat. after a few more sips, its warmth spread throughout your chest. as you drank the tea, matt let his hand rub up and down your arm, the friction from it providing you some heat as well.

"thank you," you told him as you reached across him to place the mug on his nightstand. you, then, settled yourself against his chest and pressed a kiss to the patch of skin closest to your lips.

"are you any warmer?"

"yeah," you sighed, content.

he smiled, though you couldn't see it. "good."

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tag list: @marjorie189

[thinkinonsense]

what about a movie night with logan 🥺 n just soft cuddles and cute kisses

logan's day truly couldn't have been worse. none of the students listened to him, he was off his game while training, and a mission had gone south. all he wanted was to spend his evening with you in his lap and a cigar in his mouth.

when he finally returned to your shared bedroom, he found you half asleep with a random movie playing in the background. logan looked at you like you were a real life angel sitting upon his sheets.

"hi, baby." you let out this cute yawn that almost brings logan to his knees. "how was the mission?"

"shitty." he mumbled, trying to lit the cigar hanging loosely from his lips. "missed ya though, princess."

once the cigar was lit, logan crawled onto the bed and rested in between your legs. his head rested just above the waistband of your underwear, facial hair tickling the delicate skin on your tummy.

"missed you more." your heart fluttered at his words. "sorry your day was shitty."

logan shrugs, removing the cigar to place kisses on your hip bone. "don't matter anymore now that i'm here with you."

one of your hands tangled its way into his hair, playing with the little kitten tuffs you adored. logan traced shapes on your thigh while both of you finished the movie. at the end he crawls up to face you, setting the tiny bit of cigar on the nightstand before leaving kisses all over your pretty face. he couldn't have picked a better way to end his day.

[chvoswxtch]

taste

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt just wants a taste.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: it’s thanksgiving here today, and despite my mixed feelings about this holiday, I am thankful for all of y’all. so, here’s a little treat from me to you bc I haven’t shown our favorite human disaster some love in awhile. 🖤

word count: 1.1k

Matt lost track of how long he’d had his head buried between your thighs. Your hair was still damp from your shower earlier, fresh notes of citrus and green apple lingering on the silk sheets. That coupled with the crisp sandalwood of his own cologne from the worn Columbia shirt of his you had stolen to bed intertwined with your own distinct scent lit a fire of desire within him. He’d discarded a layer of his black suit with every silent step he took descending the staircase that led up to the rooftop door.

It had been a bad night, and Matt’s inherent Catholic guilt was at an all time high. So, he positioned himself exactly where he thought he belonged.

On his knees.

Matt held your soft thighs in his rough, calloused hands, his warm tongue lazily tumbling over your swollen clit over and over again. He slipped his tongue through your soaked folds much like he had the first time he had really kissed you; when a sweet kiss good night had ended with your back firmly pressed up against your front door and the two of you panting into each other's mouths.

Angelic pleas for mercy had sounded from your lips in various intervals, but your greedy fingers continued to tug him just a little closer by tight grips on his chestnut strands. Neither one of you seemed to be able to quit the other. Matt’s nose was nuzzled against your public bone, and his plump lips were wrapped around your clit, alternating between suckling languidly at a pace that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and dragging his tongue up and down the length of your entire pussy meticulously.

Every time you let out a desperate chant of his name and rolled your hips up in a needy way in search of more, Matt groaned loudly and moved his own hips in tandem. He had been rutting against the mattress for God only knows how long now, the front of his briefs completely soaked from the weeping slit on the head of his throbbing cock. He’d never been so painfully hard in his life.

But Matt didn’t feel like he had earned a release yet.

Despite the several tangy coats of your arousal on his tongue, he wanted more. He needed just a little more.

Just one more, he told himself, then he’d finally let himself fuck you. But right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Face nestled against your pussy, feeling your heartbeat pounding against his welcoming tongue, smelling the scent that was uniquely you right under his nose, hearing the verbal reassurances of how much you needed him, and how badly you wanted him.

Praises of his name and confessions of love slowly lifted the self imposed weight that laid heavy on his chest like cement. If an angel like you believed the Devil deserved Heaven, then maybe he did. You didn’t ask for his penance, but he wanted to give it. He wanted to be worthy of being the man you made him feel like he was.

Matt ignored the ache in his jaw, and he whimpered against your core as his briefs snagged against the sensitive head of his cock just right. He wasn’t gonna last long. Not with the heavenly aroma of you surrounding his senses completely, the sweet sound of your pleasure hitting his ears, the thrum of your impending climax thundering against his tongue.

He never wanted to come up for air. If this was how he was going to die, drowning in the tidal wave of your gratification, then he’d die a happy man.

Matt used his index and middle finger to spread your slicked pussy apart, eagerly swirling his tongue around your pulsing nub before switching to flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across it like a metronome. God, you were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet. He couldn’t tell where his saliva ended and where your own essence started, but he didn’t fucking care. The only taste he wanted seared into his taste buds was yours anyway.

He delved his tongue as deep within your cunt as he could, fucking you with it sensually while his nose bumped against your overstimulated clit repeatedly. You were close again. He could tell by the hitch in your breaths and the quiver in your soft thighs that were enclosed tightly around his head.

Matt never felt like he deserved you, so he made it his personal mission to make sure he earned you.

As soon as another wave of your candied tang drenched his mouth and dripped down his stubbled chin, Matt exploded with a pathetic whimper, feeling his own sticky warmth coating his lower abdomen and the tops of his thighs. The only reason he pulled his face away from your cunt was because you weakly pushed at his shoulders with your trembling hands.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Matty…I can’t. I-God, I need a minute-“

The breathless pants sounding from your lips were an elegant symphony to his ears. He closed his eyes while resting his head on your smooth thigh, trying to catch his own breath. For several minutes neither of you said anything, just laid there tangled up in the sheets together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

All of a sudden, Matt sensed a shift in you. He heard your eyes flutter open, and felt the way you shifted your head off the pillow to peer down at him in curiosity.

“Matty…did…did you-“

“Yeah.”

He didn’t bother hiding it. He wasn’t ashamed. He’d be pissed when the cloud of lust currently fogging up his brain eventually cleared and he realized he ruined yet another set of silk sheets, but right now, he was too satisfied to give a shit about anything other than this moment with you.

A melodic giggle immediately erupted from your chest, and Matt squeezed your thigh teasingly in retaliation which caused you to squeal.

“Hey! I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s actually quite flattering that you enjoy having your head between my thighs so much that you can come from that alone.”

“Sweetheart, you could make me come just by reading our grocery list.”

Another round of angelic giggles fell from your lips, and a quiet whine of disapproval sounded from Matt when he felt you shifting in bed. Much to his dismay, you moved your soft and warm thigh away from under his head, which caused him to purse his plush lips in a pout. But before he could even protest, you were gently pushing him onto his back and brushing your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Maybe I’ll test that theory later, but right now, I’d rather make you come with my mouth in a different way.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @thyme-in-a-bubble @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[ddejavvu]

m.list - matt murdock

blurbs:

you interrupt matt's patrol

matt's tired after patrol

you like matt's chest hair

professor!matt

showering with matt

matt + "where did your clothes go?"

prince!matt

kidnapper!matt

matt + edging

matt + enemies to lovers

stalker!matt | 2

matt comforting you after a nightmare

you're insecure during sex

matt notices your harmful habits

matt cuddles you on your period

mafia!matt

matt learns to braid

patching matt up after patrol

priest!matt

roommate!matt

matt + rivals to lovers

matt makes a better second impression

your dog likes matt's seeing eye dog

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

For some smut inspiration 😘

“~More~ Matt/Frank”

Instead of a please or pleading/begging

Thank you for your writing 😘 you angel!

went with matt for this one. lots of love babe <3

smut warning !!

“M-more.”

“What was that, honey?”

He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows raised as he waits for an answer.

“More.”

It’s the only word you can seem to formulate.

“More?”

He says it so cruelly, so patronising, that it only makes you wetter.

“You want more, baby? I’ve got you practically folded in half, and you want more?”

He drives his point home with a particularly sharp thrust of his hips into yours. The sound it makes is obscene, and you whine.

“You’re dripping onto the sheets, sweetheart. But you want more?”

His hand leaves your hip to wrap around your throat, squeezing firmly.

“You’re as tight as a vice, fuck. Greedy fucking girl.��

He chuckles, all low and menacing.

“Matt,” you plead.

“Oh no, baby, you started this. You want more? You’ll get more.”

[cowgurrrl]

What's In A Name?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was rewatching daredevil

Summary: You settle on a new nickname for Matthew [1.3k]

Warnings: fluff, lawyer talk, brief mention of Jack, Daredevil things, June’s first time writing Matt so pls be nice, I think that’s it??

He's realized it changes depending on the day. You refer to him in court as your colleague, Mr. Murdock, or even Counselor. You call him Murdock to get his attention or scold him for something. That Idiot in The Mask before you find out about his nightly escapades. That Idiot in The Mask after you find out about his nightly escapades. But more often than not, when he climbs into bed after a long night of being That Idiot, your eyes flutter open, and you murmur a soft "Matthew" before snuggling into him.

Foggy and Karen make fun of you for using his full name more often than Matt, which is undeniably faster and punchier. Every once in a while, you'll pull Franklin out to make Foggy cringe and accuse you of sounding like his mother. Their teasing does nothing to stop you from calling him Matthew. It's the name in your phone, the name you punch in braille in his birthday cards, the name you use to introduce him to others, everything. 

It also helps to conceal the specifics of your relationship from other lawyers who may get nosy and try to use your relationship against you in a court of law. What girlfriend wouldn't call her boyfriend by a nickname? The kind of girlfriend who went through seven years of school and refuses to have her JD called into question just because she went into practice with her boyfriend and best friends. 

The good thing is he doesn't seem to mind you calling him Matthew. It's very rare that the name doesn't grate on his ears, but when it falls from your lips, it's warm and welcome like the first sunny day after a harsh New York winter. The question, however, comes on a chilly October evening while sitting with socked feet on the couch and working through closing statements. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard many pieces of information throughout the past few weeks. Many of them circumstantial," you read to him as you scribble the notes on a yellow legal pad. His hand is resting on your thigh, tracing patterns into your soft leggings, and cocks his head in your direction to show you he's listening. "However, you have also heard from my client-"

"Our client." Matt interrupts, and you look up at him. His tinted glasses are resting on the coffee table amid scattered case notes and copies of evidence, and his brown eyes are cast vaguely in your direction. When you first started dating, he told you people were uncomfortable with his bouncing, unfocusing eyes, and that's why he hadn't taken off his glasses in front of you. Since then, it's been a steady journey of reassuring him how much you love him, love all of him. The fact that all these years later, he's sitting without shame and without his glasses is enough to make your heart soar. 

"Is O'Reilly also the jury's client?" 

"No, but there are multiple defense attorneys on this case."

"Okay, so what if I gesture to you when I say it?" You ask, and the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up.

"'M sure that'll look very professional, sweetheart." He says, amusement in his tone, and you roll your eyes as you look back down at the paper. 

"I'm just gonna say 'my client.'" 

"Fine, but I'm telling Foggy."

"Oh, c'mon, we both know you've claimed clients and cases as your own. It's not a big deal."

"I have not!" 

"I will pull court transcripts right now."

"Maybe I should be the one to give closing statements." He teases and tries to reach for your papers. You rip them out of his reach and drop them on the floor when he tickles your sides. You laugh and try to fight against his strong hands, but he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tickles you with the other. 

"Okay, okay, that's enough." You beg between breathless giggles, and his merciless attack on your stomach stops as fast as it started. The apartment falls silent as he lays half on top of you with your legs bracketing his sides. His hair is soft and a little too long, flopping over his forehead and hiding a yellowing bruise, and his full lips are pulled into a perfect smile that you can't help but kiss. He hums against your lips and releases your wrists, letting your hands graze his waist, narrowly avoiding sore ribs. You feel a full breath fill his lungs before he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

"We're never gonna finish closing statements like this." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and you shrug.

"Prosecution barely has a case. We'll be fine," you say as you scratch his back. "Besides, I always make closing statements my bitch."

"Can't argue with that." He laughs, and you hum in agreement. It's getting late. The sights and sounds of the city have dimmed just enough to tell you that people have made it home from their work days, settling into dinner and bedtime routines with their families. A certain red suit hidden in the closet pricks at the forefront of your mind, and you take a deep breath. 

You knew what you signed up for when you met Matt in your legal history class during your second year at Columbia. You'd had several long-winded conversations with him about defending the working man, upholding the law, and the importance of order in a chaotic world. You knew dating him also meant sharing him with his job, no matter what it was. Still, you never expected his part-time job to be beating up criminals in dark alleys after you went to bed. 

"Wanna order Thai from that place down the block and keep working, or do you need to go?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"'M good."

"You sure?" 

"I like working with you." He says sincerely, and a ball of light shines in your chest. You have to fight the smile threatening the corner of your mouth, and you know he can feel it. 

"Are you just saying that cause you want me to change my wording?" You ask, and he laughs. He ducks his head to kiss your jaw before straightening back up, not letting himself get too distracted by the taste of your skin.

"No, I'm saying that because I love hearing you make closing statements your bitch."

"Good answer, Matthew." You tap his side, and he kisses you again before sitting back to let you get up and retrieve your phone from the counter. You type in the restaurant's name, your mouth watering at the thought of Pad Thai, and walk over to the back of the couch. Matt leans into you the second you're close enough, and even though you don't have super senses like him, you know he's thinking hard about something.

"You know you may be the only person in the world who calls me Matthew on a regular basis?" He asks out of the blue, and you look up from your phone. His hand finds its way to your waist and tugs you closer until your hips are flush against the couch. You indulge in his sudden neediness by running your free hand through his hair.

"What'd your dad call you?" You ask quietly. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he tilts his head at you.

"Matty."

"Matty," you try to nickname on your tongue and smile. "Gotta give it to Battlin' Jack, that's a pretty good one."

"I'm sure he'd agree with you." He says, the gentle ache of grief settling over the space. You lean down and kiss his head in reverence, like you're thanking him for sharing the memory with you. The feeling dissolves once you get back into closing statements and arguing about wording over steaming piles of food, but the name sticks in your brain. His contact name in your phone goes from Matthew to Matty. You let yourself call him Matty a handful of times to test it out, and somehow, the transition between names doesn't faze either of you. It feels good, intimate almost. Something just for the two of you. 

Hell's Kitchen can have Daredevil all they want as long as Matty is the one coming home to you. 

[mattmurdocksscars]

Counter: vampire! Reader with Matt!

"What do we have here?" You murmured, eyeing the man standing on the rooftop across from you. It wasn't often you found others up on the rooftops, let alone humans. His head was tilted in your direction, the eyes of his mask glinting in the moonlight. He was dressed as a devil, a fact you found very amusing.

"What are you?" He asked, voice carrying over the space between the two of you. You got the sense that this man was used to being the predator, not the prey, and it further amused you that he thought he was in control.

With an unnatural ease, you jumped the space between rooftops and landed a few feet in front of him. He immediately tensed up, putting himself into a ready position.

"My, my. You are quite the sight to see. Perhaps it is I who should be asking what you are, Devil Man."

"I asked first." He growled out. His voice rolled over you deliciously and you smirked, putting a hand on your hip. Deciding to indulge him, simply to indulge your own curiosity, you answered him truthfully.

"I am what most humans would refer to as a vampire."

"Impossible."

"Is it? I stand in front of you, no heartbeat and ice cold skin. Red eyes and elongated fangs. I sustain myself on the blood of others. Would you not consider that a vampire?"

"Vampires don't exist."

Oh, I assure you, I am very real." You purred. "Now answer my question. What are you?" He huffed.

"You haven't heard of me? I'm who the media refers to as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."

"Hmm, explains the horns. I'm new in town and have not paid much attention to the local lore." Curiosity satisfy, you turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"You've sated my curiosity. I'm continuing on with my night." He scoffed.

"What? Got some blood to drink?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"I won't let you harm my citizens."

"Is it harming if they consent to it?" You ask, tapping your chin.

"What?" You chuckled at his confusion.

"You assumed I would hurt your precious fellow humans. However, I never drink from someone who doesn't consent to it."

"Why would someone consent to having their blood drank?"

"Because it offers a pleasure you could never imagine." You purred. That seemed to shut him up and you took the opening it gave you.

"Goodnight, Devil Man. Happy hunting." You said with a laugh, jumping from the rooftop and landing in the alley below. You looked up to see he had ran over to the edge and was looking down at you. You gave him a wave and then made your way out onto the street, blending in to the crowd.

With no way to track you, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had to let you go. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, for him, he would run into you many times in the future.

[deermurdock]

hi guys. i’m asexual. so.

the first time you have sex with matt, it’s full of.. mistakes. You’re awkward, he’s beautiful, and more than anything, you’re both.. excited. you’re excited to be with him like this, but you’re so so nervous.

when you started dating, you were honest with matt— sex is cool and all, but you were honest when you told him that it might be a very long time before you wanted to sleep with him, at all. so when you told him you were ready, he just smiled and told you it would happen naturally.

and after a date with one or two of those fruity drinks you’re keen on, you’re needy— pressing wet kisses to his mouth and his neck as he fumbles for his keys, before his hands are back on your body.

but you’re nervous. you’re so fucking nervous, and it causes you to start shaking- and not just in a subtle way, you’re shaking like a leaf, so as he slips your shirt off, he notices the way you flinch at his every touch, the way your hands shake and really, your entire body shakes.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he whispers gently as you admire his face.

“i’m just.. nervous, that’s all.” you confess,

“do you want to stop?”

“no!” and your response is so quick it makes him laugh a bit.

“okay, we won’t stop,” he agrees, “but we are gonna talk the whole time, okay?”

“okay.”

and then he kissed your lips, gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter completely if he goes any harder, before whispering,

“i’ve got you, son.” then, he smiles, “let’s give those pretty hands something to do, huh? can you be good for me?”

[of-many-fandomss]

Winter Blurb Masterlist

1. Mistletoe: Jake Seresin

2. Picking a Christmas Tree: James Potter

3. Decorating the Christmas Tree: JJ Maybank

4. Gingerbread Houses: Sirius Black

5. Ice Skating: Regulus Black

6. Gift Exchange: Dean Winchester

7. Sleigh Ride: Bucky Barnes

8. Snow Angels: Peter Parker

9. Shoveling Snow: Bradley Bradshaw

10. Gift Shopping: Regulus Black

11. Building a Snowman: Daryl Dixon

12. Snowed In: Matt Murdock

13. Snowball Fight: Tangerine

14. Wrapping Presents: Bradley Bradshaw

15. First Snowfall: Matt Murdock

16. Hot Chocolate: Rafe Cameron

17. Advent Calendars: Dean Winchester

18. Secret Santa: Remus Lupin

19. Sledding: James Potter

20. Christmas Music: Jake Seresin

21. Fireplace: Sam Winchester

22. Christmas Sweaters: Rafe Cameron

23. Baking: Tangerine

24. Christmas movies: Peter Parker

25. Christmas lights: Bucky Barnes

COMING SOON

Taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @mel-vaz @lunaalovesyouu

[hellsburners]

reader being obsessed with matt’s body?

You could never forget the way his body would move. Matt had the habit of walking around your apartment shirtless. You were always amazed by the way he kept his physique despite his busy schedule. He would always find the time to go to Fogwell's, or he would squeeze in a few push-ups and some crunches in the morning.

He has the widest shoulders for a man, the way the slope from his neck would cascade towards his large arms, those arms that would tighten around his shirts barely giving in some air. You would always look at the way his biceps would flex whenever he would get something from the kitchen, the lone vein peeking through his bicep to his forearms.

His hands, those calloused fingers pressing on his keyboard whenever he worked at home, or the way they grazed your skin whenever he’d touch you. Sometimes, his short bitten nails would scratch your skin. The sting would always feel like a painful pleasure to you, like a nibble to your ear or small bite to your neck.

His chest, a large expanse of muscle, would always move at a measured pace. As if he were aware of the sounds of the air filling his lungs. His abdomen would also tense whenever you touched him. The ridges in his belly burrowing whenever he breathed or laughed. His whole torso was covered in scars, two lateral lines across his chest, a deep scar in the left side of his waist, and two scars at his back. He would always have some sort of bruise in his body. He always showed the body of a warrior.

His waist, smaller in proportion to his shoulders, would always tease you. The way his trousers would hug so well around his waist. The lines of muscle leading to his hardness underneath the fabric. Your eyes would always wish you could just peer away and see what's underneath.

His thighs, so wide and muscular, covered in a layer of fur. It would always prick whenever you sat on them. He would always look good sitting down, either in trousers, boxers, and even more when he’s naked. You would always touch them whenever you went down on him, smoothing your hands across the rough skin.

And his biggest asset, the plump mound on his rear. Whenever you were kissing him your hands would always fall there.

Which is why when you asked if he could fuck you in front of a mirror he was confused. You told him you wanted to see his body as he fucked you. And truly it was a sight. His shoulders wide in comparison to yours, flexed arms wrapped around your body, his hands teasing your chest, your nipples, your sex, masterfully teasing your body. His chest heaving as he moaned. His thighs were a perfect seat for you as you took him in. And his ass taut as he emptied inside you. The image of that night would remain with you whenever you’re alone.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

“your child is crying.”

matt is entirely too sick of that excuse. he rolls out of bed, way too early for the ridiculous nature of his once solemn apartment.

he opens the door to your bedroom and before he can greet him, your cat runs up to your bed and curls up against your legs.

matt rolls his eyes and heads back over to you, laying down by your side with a soft ‘humph’ as he falls down.

you’re still half asleep as his hand comes up to your hair and moves some hair from your face. your face twitches a bit as he does this.

he yawns and curls into his silk sheets and silk pillow case, just in his boxer briefs while you sport your tee shirt and old pair of shorts. you have matching fuzzy socks on as your cat purrs by your feet.

“we gotta,” he yawns, “go to that’s stupid brunch thing at foggys.”

“mm, yeah, i never pictured frank as the brunch sort.” you mumble along, and he groans.

“ugh. frank.” and it makes you laugh.

“karen likes him.”

“mhm..” he’s unconvinced.

“matthew. don’t be such a brat.” you tell him, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

“couple a’ brats we are..” he mumbled back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“i’m gonna make that uh, cinnamon roll casserole you like.”

“mmm…”

“and i’ll be making mimosas..” you plant more kisses down his jaw and arm.

“you’re so sexy when you talk about brunch plans.”

“it’s sickly domestic of me.”

“sexily domestic.” his lips ghost your finger tips as they brush over his face. “very sexily domestic.”

“i might make an honest man out of you yet, murdock.”

“i’ll let you test your luck.”

[annab-nana]

matt murdock blurbs

one where matt warms you up when you're too cold

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hello, I hope you are feeling better <3 I had an x reader fic request which is a little spicy; basically reader is very quiet and not loud so matt kind of ties her hands (with consent and even something soft) and for every noise she makes he rewards her and it keeps going thank you so much btw for all your lovely fics :)

hii! you're so sweet!! and yes I am, thank you! very sorry this is so late. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

reward

Matt Murdock x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || 18+ only sexually explicit content (light bondage, praise) minors dni

also sorry it’s been so long since a Matt fic

masterlist + rules

taglist

Matt hasn't been home from work long, but he already had you right where he wanted you, laid naked under him with his fingers pushed up inside you. His head hung low next to your ear, whispering praises about how warm and good you feel and how pretty you smell. 

His fingers curl upwards, rubbing against the favoured spongey spot inside you, working in a come hither motion while pecks light kisses down the side of your throat. "God, do that again," he whispers, halting when he reaches the underside of your jaw.

"Do what?" you quietly question, melting into his delicate touch.

"That noise, that little moan... please do it again,"

"I didn't moan," you shakily protest, running your hand up his bare back, lightly grazing along the skin.

"You did... it was so hot," he praises, working over the same area, trying to get the same reaction from you once more. "Please keep doing that."

During your intimate encounters, Matt heavily relied on you to be vocal in expressing your interest so that he knew you were enjoying yourself as much as him. He knew you weren't particularly loud during your shared moments; he just wanted to see if he could coax out a few noises, even if that entailed light bondage and rewards.

So as the thought finalises in his brain, he slowly drags his fingers from you to reach over into the nightstand, searching for one of your scrunchies. He peppers the nape of your neck in soft, delicate kisses as he laces his hands in yours, slowly lifting them above your head. "Here's an idea," he starts, parting from your lips, grinning against them. "Every time you make those sweet, pretty sounds... I keep going," he whispers below your ear, smirking against the skin. "Every time you stay quiet... I stop. That sound good?"

Nodding in approval.

His head cocks, brows playfully furrowed. "What'd I just say?"

"Yes, sorry— yeah," you laugh. "That sounds good."

"Good, thank you," he whispers, slipping your wrists into the scrunchie, twisting behind the headboard. "If you don't like it... tell me right away, okay?"

"I will," you breathlessly reply, leaning into his soft touch.

Sitting on his knees between your legs, caressing your goosebumped thighs. "Good girl," he whispers in praise. "That's my good girl," stroking over the head of his cock with one hand while the other parts your folds.

He guides himself closer, his tip meer centimetres away as if he was taunting you. He slides his head through your dripping lips to lubricate his aching dick, teasing himself through your slick. Gripping at his base, he steadily pushes his head into you, going slow to allow you a moment to adjust. Keeping himself still before finally sinking further into you.

"Fu—“ he mutters, lids hung low. He desperately clasps under your jaw as he peppers wet, sloppy, needy kisses along it, gingerly grinding his hips into you. Massaging inside of you in the just way you both needed.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently as his hands roam your body, grasping and squeezing your skin as he slowly fucks into you. “You feel so good," he soft groans, clutching his hand around your throat, slinking his fingers back and behind, locking into a small fistful of hair and gently tugging. “So, fuckin good.”

Now that you are fully adjusted to his size, he starts to speed up, sliding in and out of you at the pace you need and crave. Hitting all of your perfect spots with the slight curve of his cock, giving you everything you could ever want and then some. His breathing grows heavy against your neck, strained and strangled as if he's holding himself off while his fingers entangle into tighter locks of your hair.

His movements grow more precise and urgent when he hears your perfect little whimpers in his ear, the desperation in your moans only egging him on more and more as he fucks you. "Such pretty sounds," he says, barely audible against your skin. Panting. "You feel so good around me— you feel so good." 

Your hands lace together, clutching your fingers with pure need, desperately wanting something to grip as you feel the wave build within.

You feel him start to twitch and pulsate inside you which immediately sets you off. Tightening and clamping around his cock with your release, instinctively grinding against him as you ride out the engulfing feeling. Your spasming movements sparked his own release, softly grunting under your jaw as he drags himself from you, spilling ropes of cum over your lower abdomen.

He litters your face in quick sweet kisses before removing the scrunchie from your wrists, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you with him. Holding you to his chest as he flops back against the mattress, readjusting you both as he pecks your cheek tenderly.

 Stroking down your bare back as he speaks low and soft. "Never stop making those sounds, sweetheart... that was— that was,"

"Incredible," you finish his sentence, snuggling tighter into his chest.

Softly chuckling. "Yeah,"

@mattymurdock1021 @v1ntage-daydr3am @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim

[chvoswxtch]

on the twelfth day of slutmas, court gave to me...

sensory deprivation & double penetration with matt murdock & frank castle

The blindfolds had been Matt’s idea. He wanted to deprive you and Frank of your sight, leveling the playing field, but also to enhance your other senses, to make everything feel more intense. And it definitely felt more intense.

If you focused, you’d be able to tell who was who. You’d be able to identify whose chest you were touching as your fingertips brushed over familiar scars you’d traced a hundred times before. You’d be able to tell who was panting in your ear. You’d know whose callused hands were grasping at your hips and thighs, and pawing at your breasts, digging their blunt nails into your skin to leave evidence of this moment behind.

You’d be able to decipher whose cock was nestled deep inside your cunt and whose was stretching out your ass.

But you couldn’t focus. The sensation of being so…full, was almost overwhelming. Right now you couldn’t tell whose lips were greedily devouring yours and whose were decorating your neck in marks. You didn’t know which one of them was fucking up into you and which one was fucking you from behind. Their moans and grunts couldn’t be deciphered with your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and your moans echoing around Matt’s bedroom. 

You didn’t know who was who and you didn’t care, because they were both yours.

Your fingers blindly searched for one of them, but they both found you. The three of you were so intertwined, it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began. You could faintly hear an exchange of a messy top lip kiss happening to your right, and you turned your head with a soft whine, wanting to be included, and then all three of your tongues were tangled together in a sensual embrace.

All you could focus on was the warm weight of being nestled between two firm bodies that belonged to the two men you loved more than anything in this world, the two men that would wage war on heaven and hell for you. The two pairs of strong hands that could end a life in seconds were caressing you in nothing but awe and adoration. The pleasure was so intense it nearly knocked the breath out of your lungs. You could barely even move to participate. Matt and Frank worked together in tandem to support your boneless body while fucking you senseless.

They both murmured sweet nothings into your ear, but it sounded miles away in your fuzzy brain, and muffled like your head was deep underwater.

Attagirl, just let us make ya feel good.

That’s it, being such a good girl taking us both like this.

Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.

You gonna come for us, angel?

You could barely even speak. All you could offer was incoherent moans and whimpers. It felt like you were floating outside of your own body, shrouded in darkness, suspended in pleasure that you never wanted to end. This was where you wanted to be, always.

Safe and sound right here in between the two men this city feared the most.

tags: @itwasthereaminuteago @bless-my-demons @phoenixe3 @fxckahs-blog @dreadfulxives18 @daisyxchains @ferns-fics @bpdnymph @lucienofthelakes @raysmayhem-72 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

12 days of slutmas masterlist

[ddejavvu]

sooo mei I was reading through your matt murdock ml and stumbled across the mafia one and pleaseee that is so cute, would you ever expand on that au? like maybe r’s flat is broken into and before she can even go to the cops there’s a bunch of matt’s guys there like don’t worry we’ve got it handled and she’s just ???

mafia!matt is the last thing i thought i'd be writing in the year 2024 but i can work with what you gave me <3

--

You're not sure whether you'd consider yourself lucky for escaping the bank unscathed, or unlucky for having been in the bank during an active shooting in the first place. Either way, the entire ordeal leaves you unsettled for weeks. You're bordering on agoraphobic, but food is a must, so you set out to brave the streets of Hell's Kitchen in search of something quick and dirty.

Upon your return, you know you're unlucky. You'd locked the door when you'd left, but evidently that doesn't stop someone who's desperate enough to break into a place that's barely up to code. You stare into the gaping, dark recess of your burgled apartment, noting that several electronics and appliances are out of place, but none of them appear to be missing. Your television is cracked, but you suppose your computer will be a suitable replacement until you can manage to afford a new screen.

You back away from the door just in case there's still someone inside; you're not stupid enough to investigate for yourself. However, the moment you step back, you ram into someone behind you, and your mottled nerves make you nearly shoot out of your skin.

All you can manage is a muffled, 'mmf!' when a hand clamps itself over your mouth, but the voice accompanying the hand is quick to assure you, "Easy, tuts, we're not gonna make it worse. We're with- uh, the cops. Okay? We got a call from the neighbors, 'said they heard someone breakin' in. We've got it handled, alright? Just relax. You can head back inside, that creep is long gone. We'll have someone stand guard outside, got it?"

You're only let go of when your captor deems you calm, but your heart is still racing in your chest when you turn to face him. He doesn't look anything like a police officer, but he does look menacing. He shows you a badge and I.D, and they look authentic enough for your arrythmia to settle.

"Go on," He ushers you towards the door, "Get in there, we'll take care of it from here."

You adjust your grip on your plastic bag of frozen meals, passing a couple other men that are now posted at the front door of your apartment. Each attempts a kind smile at you, and you're glad to shut the door on them once you get inside.

There's a man on your couch.

You don't notice until you flick the light switch on, but he's sitting there, clad in a suit and sunglasses. You shriek, and briefly consider whether or not your frozen ravioli could be used as a suitable projectile.

"Relax," The man stands, an easy smile on his face, one that drips with sympathy, "I'm Matt. I'm here to stand guard."

"Why were you sitting in the dark?!" You demand, now doubting the validity of the police badge you'd seen earlier, regretting the decision to trust these less-than-official men.

"It doesn't matter to me whether it's light or dark," He chuckles, and your face flushes momentarily when you realize what his sunglasses are for.

"Oh. Well- well you're not doing a very good job of making me relax, Matt. I feel like I'm more in danger of you than I am of someone else breaking into my house."

The man's smile is gentle, but not weak, "Sorry. Just go about your business, okay Y/N? We'll replace your damaged property and be out of your hair as soon as we can eliminate the threat.”

"Eliminate...?" You echo cautiously, "How long does that take?"

"Depends. A day. A week. Months, maybe. But this is all for your precaution, Y/N," He stands, making his way over to you and carefully feeling out the broken glass on the floor with the toe of his shoe. He places a hand on your shoulder, "Just trust me, I'm here to help. None of this will ever happen to you again- not on my watch."