#matt murdock is a soft!boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

matt-murdockk · 1 month ago

Text

Time

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

words: 2.8k

summary: On their wedding night, (Y/n) disappears in Matt’s arms-blipped without warning. For five years, he mourns her, tormented by grief and hallucinations. When she returns, unchanged, he’s convinced she’s not real. (angst mostly with fluff ending)

warnings: angst, cussing, lack of proofreading rip, set in infinity war - endgame timeline (reader getting blipped, etc)

a/n: Listen, my boy Matt is the PERFECT practice for writing angst. I just like to put him in situations and watch him like he's in a fish tank and I'm outside tapping on the glass. This man absolutely cannot catch a break and while I am partially to blame (cause I'm writing it this time), just how Matt is written in general is in a way that it just makes sense to put him through shit. He is a walking amalgam of Catholic Guilt, adrenaline, and poor decision making and I love him so much. This one is a boatload of angst but I threw in some fluff in the ending because well, we deserve good things.

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The apartment door creaked open with the softest thud, and then her back hit it as Matt pressed her gently against the wood, lips grazing her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He was smiling.

That rare, devastating smile he only wore when it was just them.

“You’re supposed to carry me across the threshold, remember?” she whispered, breathless with laughter.

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Matt murmured. “Just wanted a moment alone with my wife first.”

Wife.

The word made her stomach flip in a good way- warm and giddy and ridiculous.

He scooped her up easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other at her back, and she looped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“I’m legally required to now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s in the vows. Carry you everywhere. Worship the ground you walk on. Try not to lose my mind over how good you look in that dress.”

“Flawless delivery, Murdock,” she teased. “Truly. I can tell you definitely wrote your own vows.”

He chuckled against her shoulder as he carried her through the doorway into the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Candles flickered. Soft music still hummed faintly from the speaker they forgot to turn off before the ceremony.

And for a second- just one perfect second- it was all stillness. Just them. Just this.

He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist. They kissed again, slower now. Softer. Everything feeling like it had finally settled into place. She pressed her forehead to his, heart beating a little too fast.

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“I’ll beat you to it,” he murmured, eyes closing, nose brushing hers. “You’re here. You’re mine. We made it.”

She smiled, eyes glassy. “We did.”

They stood there for a while. Just holding each other. Breathing the same air. Wedding bands warm against skin.

But then-

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her brows furrowed.

“Matt?”

He straightened a little, instantly alert. “Yeah?”

“I feel... weird.”

He tilted his head, concern filtering through his features. “Weird how?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s like- I just got dizzy all of a sudden. Like the room’s moving.”

Matt gently guided her toward the couch, helping her sit down. “Okay. Just breathe. You might be dehydrated. Or just- adrenaline crash.”

She tried to smile. “Yeah. Big day. Lots of emotions. Too many speeches.”

She stood too fast. Her hand slipped from his.

“Careful,” Matt said, already reaching for her again. “Take it slow- ”

“I think I need to throw up,” she mumbled, voice shaky.

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, already guiding her. “Bathroom’s just- ”

She staggered.

Her balance tipped.

Matt caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Hey. Hey, I got you. It’s okay- ”

She didn’t answer.

Her body felt... lighter. Unsteady. Like her weight was shifting in his arms.

He tilted his head, trying to focus on her. “(Y/n)? You with me?”

She looked up at him.

Confused.

Scared.

“M-Matt, I...”

And then her voice just- cut out.

His arms were suddenly empty.

He blinked.

No sound. No step. No breath.

Just... gone.

The faintest warmth lingered against his fingertips- and then something like dust scattered through them.

“What the- ?” he whispered, stepping back. “(Y/n)?”

His hand shook. Her scent was still in the room. Her heartbeat-

No. No, that wasn’t right.

He turned, listening harder, straining his senses.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The silence grew louder. His throat closed up.

“(Y/n)?”

He moved down the hallway. Checked the bathroom. The bedroom. “(y/n), c’mon. Say something.”

No heartbeat. No motion. Not even the creak of a floorboard. Like she’d never been there. Matt’s chest started to cave in.

“Okay, this isn’t- this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Maybe you passed out. Maybe you hit your head. Maybe- ”

His foot bumped something.

Her ring.

Her wedding ring.

Lying on the floor.

His knees hit the hardwood before he could stop them. “No.”

He crawled forward, hands blindly reaching, as if she might be hidden just out of reach.

“(Y/n)!” His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

Still nothing.

Just the flicker of the candles.

Just the soft sound of ash settling.

“No, no- God, no!” He stood again. Stumbled. Slipped.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted so hard it tore something in his throat. “Talk to me!”

He made it to the front door. Opened it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps. No sounds of retreat. Matt’s breathing picked up. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone, nearly dropping it before hitting Call.

Foggy.

It rang once. Twice-

Pick up.

The sound of the city outside had changed. He could hear it.

Screaming. Tires screeching. Glass shattering six blocks over. Someone crying for help. Sirens multiplying like wildfire. It all surged into his head at once- too much, too fast.

He pressed his palm against his ear, gritting his teeth. “Too loud. I can’t- ”

Click.

“Matt?” Foggy answered, out of breath. “Hey, shouldn’t you be- ?”

“She’s gone,” Matt said immediately, voice fraying. “Foggy- she was right here, and then she just... disappeared.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean she turned to ash in my hands,” Matt snapped, breath catching. “I was holding her. She said she felt sick and then- then she just... she was gone.”

There was a pause.

“Matt, hang on- wait- ” Foggy’s voice shifted, panic creeping in. “I think... Matt, something’s happening. It’s not just her.”

Matt stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m outside and people are vanishing. Right in front of me. There was a guy walking beside me- just turned to dust. A woman screaming for her kid, and the kid vanished. A guy in a cab just disappeared behind the wheel, Matt. It crashed into a light post.”

Matt pressed a hand to the center of his chest like he could anchor himself to the sound of Foggy’s voice. But even that was drowned out by the chaos around him.

“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. “Her heartbeat- her breathing- it’s just gone. Like she was never here, foggy.”

Foggy’s voice came through again, strained and tense. “It’s happening everywhere. I can’t keep up. There’s shouting, people running- I think half the crowd outside just vanished. I’m not exaggerating.”

Matt stumbled toward the couch, hand landing on the coffee table. “She was right here.”

“I’m coming to you,” Foggy said quickly. “Stay there, Matt. Don’t go outside- Jesus Christ, someone else just- ”

The line crackled. Cut out. Came back.

Matt’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote.

The TV flicked on.

"...mass disappearances reported in New York, Chicago, London- this is now confirmed to be a global event..."

Footage played- Times Square chaos. Pedestrians turning to dust mid-step. News anchors looking off-camera in horror. Phones on the ground. Car alarms going off in every direction.

“We are receiving reports that approximately half the world’s population has- vanished.”

The camera panned to a child’s stuffed toy, untouched, lying in a pile of ash. Everything was still. Except the noise. And the empty space beside him on the floor.

“She was right here,” he said again, softly. Like it might undo it.

“She was right here.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

five years later

She came back mid-step.

One foot lifted toward the bathroom- and when it landed, everything was wrong.

The apartment was darker. Colder. Rearranged.

The soft glow from the corner lamp was unfamiliar. The kitchen counter had a different crack. The rug was new. The air carried a different scent- like dust and time and a city that had moved on without her.

“Matt?” she called, voice hoarse.

Silence.

She stepped further in. The living room looked lived-in, but not by her. Not anymore. Not for a long time. The coffee table was cluttered with open case files. There was a cane by the door she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded faster.

“Matt-?”

And then he was there. He stood in the doorway like he’d been carved from stone, unreadable and unmoved. Then, quietly- too calmly- he said, “So. You’re back.”

She stopped cold.

“Matt-”

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if studying her. “Took longer this time.”

“What…?” she breathed.

“Usually you show up around hour thirty-six,” he said, like it was a fact. “Right after the exhaustion hits but before the whiskey does anything useful.”

Her stomach twisted. “Matt, I’m not-”

“Don’t,” he cut in, sharp. “Don’t do that.”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t what you think.”

“No?” His voice was soft, even, lethal. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like every other time I’ve lost my mind and imagined you standing in this room.”

(Y/n) blinked, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Matt, I- I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, no trace of humor. “You wouldn’t.”

“I was just- I felt sick and then it was cold, and everything looked wrong and-" Her words tangled, tripping over each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Matt?”

Nothing.

She took a tentative step forward. “Please. Say something. What happened? What- what’s going on?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp, like a scalpel slicing through skin without even trying.

“Don’t do this to me again.”

Her breath caught. “What- what do you mean, again?”

“I know your routine now,” he said, voice tightening with each word. “You show up, confused. You ask questions. You cry. And then just when I start to believe you might be real- when I almost let myself feel something again- you vanish.”

“Matt, I don’t- ”

“No,” he snapped. “Stop. Just stop.”

She froze. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his jaw locked, eyes unreadable.

“You know what it’s like to bury someone without a body, (Y/n)?” he asked. “To sit in this apartment with your ring in my hand, trying to convince myself that ash on the floor was all that was left of you?”

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t remember anything-”

“Exactly,” he said, bitter. “You never do. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You pretend like you’re all confused. Like you don’t know what’s happening. And I- I fall for it. Every time. Like an idiot.”

“Matt- please, just listen to my heartbeat-”

“I did,” he cut in. “I’ve heard it before. Right before it disappears.”

Her lips trembled. “I swear I’m not-”

“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking, but no less cruel. “You don’t get to come back here like nothing happened. Like you didn’t leave me bleeding on the floor that night. Like I didn’t spend years trying to claw my way out of what you left behind.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she whispered.

“But you’re dead,” Matt hissed, stepping close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “You died. And whatever this is- this illusion, this dream- it doesn’t change that. You don’t get to hurt me again.”

He said it like a closing statement. Like a sentence passed down after a trial that never had a chance. But he didn’t stop there.

“You think this is easy for me?” he went on, voice low, cracking at the edges now. “You think I want to keep seeing you in doorways? Hearing your voice when I close my eyes? You think I haven’t begged for it to stop?”

(Y/n) stood frozen, lips parted, tears streaking silently down her face.

“I have spent five years trying to forget the exact way you said my name before you disappeared. Five years trying not to hear it in someone else’s mouth. Five years waking up thinking you might be there- just once- and then realizing that all I’ve got left is a bed that’s too big and silence that’s too loud.”

He was pacing now, hands in his hair, breathing hard, unable to stop himself.

“You were my wife. You were supposed to be the rest of my life. And I had you for minutes. You were ripped out of my arms before I even got to love you properly. Do you understand that? Do you even get what you left behind?”

“Matt-”

“I grieved you like a man who’d never believe in God again,” he growled. “I went back to that night a thousand times in my head-wondering if I missed something, if I could’ve saved you, if I’d just done one thing different-”

“Matt-”

“I begged,” he snapped. “I begged God to bring you back. I lost everything trying to survive you. And now you show up here, looking exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched you, like you’re just picking up where you left off- like you didn’t burn me to the fucking ground-”

“Matt.”

She said it once.

Quietly.

And then she reached for him.

He flinched on instinct, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, gently, deliberately, she took his hand in hers- still trembling from the weight of his words- and guided it up between them.

To her chest. To her heartbeat. Right there. Steady. Real. Alive. His breath hitched. She kept his hand pressed there, fingers wrapped around his wrist like she could anchor him to this one undeniable truth.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not in your head. I don’t know how or why or what the hell happened, but I’m here.”

Matt didn’t move at first. Just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, like he didn’t trust what he was feeling. Like it might stop if he acknowledged it out loud. Then- suddenly- he let out a shaky breath and pulled her into him, hard.

His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What the fuck.”

Her hands gripped his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her again. “Yeah, what the fuck. I don’t know what’s happening.”

He laughed once, breathless and half-broken. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They just stood there for a second. Breathing each other in. Trying to recalibrate. Then, against his chest, she mumbled, “You look like shit, by the way.”

It slipped out before she could stop it. Matt let out an actual laugh- short, incredulous, almost like it startled him.

“That’s not funny,” he said, wiping at his eyes, still half-laughing.

She smiled weakly. “Little bit funny.”

He shook his head, still not quite believing any of it. “God, I missed you.”

And then he kissed her.

Desperate and real and messy- too much force, too much urgency, like he didn’t trust it to last. His hands found her face, holding her like he needed proof she was solid. She kissed him back just as hard, fingers in his hair, anchoring him to now. To her.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And that was enough.

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a little bonus content because well it was funny in my head

A few days later

She was curled up next to him on the couch, legs tangled, one of his old hoodies hanging off her shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, neither of them really watching.

She was still catching up- on everything. The blip. The aftermath. The years she missed. Sometimes it hit her like a freight train. Other times, like now, it just snuck up and poked her in the ribs.

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Wait a second.”

Matt tilted his head toward her. “Uh-oh.”

She sat up a little. “So… technically, you’re five years older than me now?”

He blinked. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”

“It’s a valid question,” she insisted, grinning. “I married a man my age, not some grizzled thirty-something.”

He scoffed. “Grizzled?”

“I mean, I don’t see any grey hairs, but-”

“I’m blind, not deaf. I heard that smirk.”

She tried to hold back a laugh. Failed. “So you’re like… what, thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-seven,” he corrected flatly.

“Oh no. I married an older man.”

Matt deadpanned, “And I married a time traveler. Guess we’re even.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “You gonna start calling me ‘kid’ now?”

He turned toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only if you want to see how fast a five-year age gap doesn’t matter.”

Her face flushed. “Okay, grandpa.”

Matt groaned. “Regret. Immediate regret.”

She laughed, leaning back into him again, warm and solid and finally, finally real.

“Still married me,” she said, smug.

“Still would,” he replied, without hesitation.

And that shut her up for a minute.

1K notes · View notes

deermurdock · 2 months ago

Text

poor thing | m. murdock

NSFW a/n: this is kindaaa a full version of the blurb i posted a couple of days ago because i've been in a mood so uhm. just a lot of horny stuff. the reader is very touch starved and also uses hearing aids. so! have fun with this :)) uhm this got super self indulgent at the end but i think it's pretty good-- not to toot my own horn or anything but uhmmmm enjoy!! warnings: dom/sub dynamics, nicknames, Matt flipflopping between being a soft dom and a hard dom bc i couldnt make up my mind, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, uhhh dirty talk, cursing, reader is suuuuper touch starved wordcount: 4.3k

You have brunch plans for tomorrow morning.

You, Matt, Karen, Foggy and Marci—Nothing but mimosas and French toast.

If you can make it through the night, of course.

Okay, fine, it’s not that dramatic. But sometimes, you think you might die—Right then and there, cause of death? Matt Murdock.

You had planned to stay the night, bringing an overnight bag with you to work. And at around 1 a.m., after a homecooked meal, a movie and sitting curled against his side, the two of you realized you should probably get some sleep.

You brush your teeth in his bathroom, take your medication in his kitchen, and then you go to get changed. You dig through your bag, trying to find your pajamas—Your shorts are here, but not the tee shirt you were planning to wear.

Not in any of the little pockets of your overnight bag.

You twist the shorts in your hands awkwardly, watching as Matt pulls out sweatpants from his drawer to wear.

“Matthew?” You say softly, tilting your head.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He wonders, tilting his head back to you.

“Could.. I borrow a tee shirt? I guess I forgot mine.” You see a smile form on his face.

He shuffles through his drawers, fingers running over tags. Then, he turns back to you, and hands you a black tee shirt. You look at it for a second, reading the text on the front of the shirt. Then you grin.

“My Chemical Romance?” You read. Matt’s face flushes a bit.

“I had.. a bit of an emo phase in High School, okay?”

“That’s all I get? You’re gonna drop that on me and not give me anymore details?” You wonder.

“Let’s just say for a blind man, I am.. very good at doing eyeliner.”

You giggle.

“You’re probably better than I am.” You’re not big on makeup.

“Just go get changed.” He tells you, turning back to his drawer.

You oblige, heading into his bathroom to change. When you slip the tee shirt over your head, you pick the fabric up and put it up to your nose, inhaling his scent. You can’t help yourself. He’s got this very subtle vanilla smell to him. Then, you make your way back to his bedroom, tossing your clothes over your duffle bag.

You stand by the doorway, sort of.. taken back by the look of him. He’s sprawled out in his bed, just in a pair of fuzzy socks and sweatpants. Your face flushes. You’re about to sleep in a boy’s bed—With him in it!

You shake your head, chasing the silly thought out of it.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” He doesn’t even have his glasses on. When you realize this, your heartbeat picks up. You’ve only been going out for about two weeks, just enough for you to become curious about his eyes.

“This is weird..” You mumble, and his head tilts curiously.

“What do you mean?”

A smile breaks out on your face.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “It’s just.. I can barely handle it when you kiss me in front of our friends, I’m overwhelmed at the idea of like.. cuddling all night.”

“Well, this isn’t in front of our friends.” He reminds. He pats the bed next to him. “Come sit,” He offers. He stays still, as if he’s scared you’ll run off like a skittish animal.

You move to sit on the bed, an inch or two away from each other. Matt’s hand finds yours. You lean your head against his shoulder. Then, you remember something, tilting your head to face him, leaning your chin on his shoulder.

“Matt, I won’t be able to hear your alarm clock go off,” You remind. Your hearing aids will be out while you sleep, and you’re not likely to hear his alarm clock. “We’ll be late and—”

Matt kisses your forehead.

“I’ll wake you up,” he says.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You smile and press a soft kiss onto his lips. He stops, basking in the initiated affection.

You take out your hearing aids, and then melt into the bed, waiting for Matt to wrap his arms around you. He does, his arms snaking around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your next. Then, he says, right into your good ear so you could hear him,

“This okay?”

You smile.

“Yeah.” You promise, your hand wrapping around his arm, squeezing it tightly. You’re kept warm all night. There’s this moment at around three a.m., and your eyes flutter open as you wake up.. rather randomly.

You take a minute to admire Matt’s sleeping figure in the dark. His face is.. peaceful. Your lips twitch up. Then, you lean in and press a soft kiss on his jaw. You’re not used to physical affection.. But you’re doing your best to change that.

In the morning, Matt keeps his promise.

He removes his hand from your skin to turn off the alarm clock blaring,

’10:00 a.m.’

His hand runs over your back, since you’re now laying on your stomach, hugging Matt and a pillow. You breath deep, and for a moment, Matt tries to imagine what you’re dreaming about.

Your family?

Your job?

Him?

But, he knows you have to get up soon, so he begins to kiss you—

He starts at your cheek, before moving to your neck, and then, when he reaches your clothed shoulder, he moves your sleeve up your arm, beginning to kiss your arm, as his fingers tease the hem of your shirt, unsure if you’d kill him if that’s how you wake up, when your eyes flutter open.

“Good morning,” he smiles. He talks at just the right level so you can understand him.

“What’re you doing, Matthew?”

“Just waking you up,” He leans down and kisses your arm again. A shiver runs through your body.

“Okay, I’m awake now.” You grin.

“Okay, great,” You lean over and grab your hearing aids, putting them on. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight,” he requests, “My treat.”

“Like.. a fancy dinner or just something casual?”

“Fancy.” He confirms. “Fancy clothes and everything.”

Your heartbeat quickens.

“Kay.”

Matt leans forward and kisses your cheek.

He almost moves to get up, but he stops to ask,

“What were you dreaming about?”

You smile a bit.

“The Taj Mahal.” He laughs.

“The Taj Mahal?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re so..”

“Weird? Annoying? Nerdy?”

“Fascinating.”

He takes note at the way your heart races when he says that.

After brunch that morning, you and Matt split up to go get ready for your date, and you’re mostly successful.

But, you struggle with your eyeliner.. And then you remember something Matt told you last night. So you wait for Matt to get to your apartment. When he does, he comes with flowers. You smile as he kisses you hello, and you take the flowers.

You come back to him as you’re slipping on your shoes.

“I have a favor to ask,”

“Anything,” He smiles.

“Do my eyeliner?” You offer him your eyeliner pen, and he smiles.

“Sit on the couch,” he gestures, taking the pen from you. You sit on the couch, and Matt kneels down a bit, leaning in to feel around your face, getting a good feel of where your features are. Then, he grips the pencil in his hand and uses those handy heightened senses to delicately do your eyeliner.

He smiles when he finishes.

“Okay, all done. Do mine?” He asks, and you smile.

“Sure, how do you want to—” and before you can finish, Matt has moved quickly to sit on the chair before pulling you onto his lap. You let out a squeak, your face red. He grins.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He feigns innocence.

“You’re such a pain.” You huff, and he just smiles, leaning into kiss your cheek. You blush, avoiding looking at him now.

“C’mon, just do my eyeliner for me,” he requests, and you let out a huff as you gently tilt his head up towards you.

“You know you need to take your glasses off, right?”

“I know,” he smiles, and his hand is removed briefly from your waist to take off his glasses. Then, slowly and methodically, you begin applying the eyeliner, trying to ignore how nervous this whole thing is making you.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast,” He smirks. You bite back a sarcastic comment, and his hand begins to rub up and down your side. You pause your application of the eyeliner to squirm a bit in his lap. “What’s the matter, baby?” he coos.

“Oh, you’re such a dick.” You mumble, your grip on his chin tightening as you finish applying his eyeliner. He smiles and slips his glasses back on, as you climb off his lap. “C’mon, I’m starving—”

“Me too,” he says before grabbing your arm, and pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. His tongue brushes against your lip before slipping inside your mouth. After the initial urge to run away dissipates, you lean into the kiss, only for Matthew to pull away. “Alright, let’s head out.”

You try to find words, but you’re breathless from that kiss. Instead, you betray yourself. You let out this needy little whine, and Matt just smirks.

“What? If you’re whining over one kiss, I can’t imagine how you’ll be later.”

You tilt your head, cautiously. Matt wants to tell you how dog like that is, how it’s easily one of his favorite things about you.

“What do you mean, later?”

He kisses your head, and opens the door to your apartment, gesturing for you to walk out.

“Use that pretty head of yours. What do you think I mean?”

Your face flushes as you take a few steps out of the apartment.

“I don’t know.”

He closes the door behind him, and then his arm takes yours.

“Guess.”

To you, Dinner feels like it takes a million damn years.

You suspect that’s partially because of the way Matthew insatiably teases you.

His hand stays on your thigh throughout all of dinner.

When he wants you to try something, he gathers the food on a fork and glances to you.

“Open,” he says, and when he puts the fork in your mouth, you bite the food off the fork. “Good pup,” He hums, and of course, you blush.

He licks his lips like he’s quietly begging for a taste, and at some point during the dinner, he leans over the table and asks you quietly,

“Do you think I can’t smell how wet you are, kid?”

So by the time you two get home, it’s all you can do not to get on your hands and knees and beg him for something more than just a couple of teasing words. Maybe that’s what he wants. You’re not sure—Your brain is fuzzy.

You step into Matt’s apartment and toss the jacket that he wrapped around your shoulders onto the couch as he steps in, putting his cane and glasses down first.

“Can I ask you a question?” You finally blurt out.

He smiles, sensing your anticipation.

“Sure.”

“Are we.. are we gonna sleep together tonight?” You can’t help but ask. Matt chuckles gently.

“Do you want to sleep together?”

“Yes, please,” you finally answer.

“Go sit on the couch.” He orders softly, and he hears no objections as you take off your heels before sitting on the couch. He breathes deep and cracks the bones in his neck. He knows you have no idea what you’re in for.

He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to decide how he’ll start. He knows no matter how he does it, he’ll absolutely torture you, poor thing. So, he starts with sitting down next to you, placing his hand on your thigh.

He smirks as you squirm.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He coos softly.

“Oh, you know damn well what’s—”

Matt moves his hand from your thigh to grip your chin.

“Shh..” He starts, “If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to knock off the attitude,” He demands gently.

“Can’t help it—”

“You haven’t even tried.” He scoffs. “Come on, just be good for me and I’ll make all the thoughts disappear from your pretty little head.” His grip on your chin tightens, and he leans forward to brush his lips against yours. “Answer me.”

“Okay,” You breath out, “Okay, sure, I’ll be good,” You promise, and Matt kisses you in approval. But he doesn’t pull away after a moment. Instead, his hands move to cup your cheeks. He deepens the kiss and doesn’t stop you as you reposition yourself, now sitting on his lap.

His hand trails down, beginning to massage your thighs as you kiss him. He can smell how wet you are, hear how fast your heart is beating.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips again, so that he can explore your mouth. He studies it like its his damn job, and he relishes in the tiny gasps and moans that he’s able to draw out of you.

You begin rocking your hips against him, and his hands move to your hips, holding you in place. He pulls away from the kiss, and is met with your whining.

“What’d I tell you about the attitude?” He wonders, and you bite your lip, just desperate for him to continue. One hand releases your hip and reaches up to tug your hair. You let out a whimper. “Answer me.” His voice is steady, but deep—He knows exactly the effect he has over you.

“To stop it,” You answer, and he clicks his tongue. You try not to react, but Matt smirks at your attempt at self-control.

“Poor thing,” He coos, “You just need someone to take care of you, huh? Order you around, fuck you dumb..” He hums. When you squirm a bit in his lap, Matt decides to kiss you again, wanting you as brainless as he can get you.

He slowly pulls away, and he takes a second to stop, to catch his breath. He knows you need the second too, so he just inhales as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat, anxiously awaiting his next move.

“If you want to stop, you just say ‘Lava’. Got it?”

“Lava, got it.” You know he’s looking for verbal affirmation, that you understand what’s about to happen might get.. less than vanilla. He nods, and places an uncharacteristically soft kiss to your lips.

“Take your dress off,” He commands softly, “And then get on your knees for me.”

For a moment, you contemplate being bratty. You contemplate not following his order. But, you decide against it. You stand and slip out of your dress, left in just your jewelry, underwear and pretty makeup.

You kneel between his legs and watch as his lips form this smile that makes your stomach churn.

“Good dog,” and he chuckles when you lean your head against his thigh. “Poor thing,” He repeats his early sentiment, before he stands up. He takes a step towards his bedroom, and then, his hand comes down to pet your hair—

Before he grips it, starting to pull you by your hair all the way to his bedroom, listening as you whimper, trying to keep up with him. When he releases your hair, you pant softly from the pain as you sit next to his bed, watching as Matt unties his tie, wrapping it around his hand like you would a bandage.

“Sorry, honey,” he coos, suddenly soft, “That was mean, wasn’t it?” He wonders, and you pause, not sure if he wants you to actually answer. His lips twitch into a smirk. “Go ahead, you can answer.”

“Yeah, it was,” You finally answer, “The fuck did you do that for?” Matt lets out this dry chuckle.

“There’s that attitude again,” He hums. He leans down and effortlessly scoops you up with his arms and puts you on his bed, “Yeah. I was mean.” He nods, “Let me make it up to you?” He’s not really asking for your permission, and he proves that by grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“Are you going to stop being mean to me?” You wonder, and he can’t help the smile that forms on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He moves to lean closer to you, before unwrapping the tie from his hand and then, he ties it around your head, making sure to lay it right over your eyes. “I never promised that. I just promised I’d make it up to you. Ask how I’ll do that.”

You inhale and exhale, a little thrown out of the moment.

“How?” You ask, desperately in love with him either way.

“I’m gonna ruin that pretty eyeliner,” He kneels between your legs.

“How are you—” You gasp when he pulls down your underwear quickly, slipping it down to your ankles, and then throwing them to the side.

“You’re a smart kid, I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.” He says, before leaning in to lick a stripe across your cunt. Then, he starts to lick and suck on your folds, devouring you. You moan loudly, hands finding his hair as you try to get used to the feeling.

And after a couple of moments of eating you out, You do get used to it, and you absolutely melt into the bed, suddenly forgiving him for all his mean moments earlier. You’d forgive anything he did if he just stays on his knees, eating you out.

His fingers come up to your clit to gently rub circles into it, before moving his fingers to slip right between your folds, relishing in the way you whine, in the sound of your moans. His fingers begin to pump in and out of you.

He licks stripe after stripe into your cunt, his scruff scratching your thighs as he eats you out. You pull and tug at his hair.

“I’m—I’m close,” You finally manage to gasp out,

Matt just hums out an, ‘Mhm’, too busy lapping up your juices on his tongue. His nose brushes against your clit, and you’re suddenly coming undone as his licks your juices up. You ride out your high with Matt’s face between your thighs.

After a couple of minutes, he slowly comes up for air, head tilting upwards.

“Feeling okay?” his voice is soft now.

“Yeah,” You breath with a breathy sigh. “Just.. thinking.” Your hands absentmindedly comb through his hair.

“’Bout what, baby?” He asks, and leans in, pressing a kiss to your clit. When you whine, he coos mockingly, “Aw, poor thing.. Answer the question.”

“..You.” You try, and he scoffs, before biting your thigh.

“Try again, brat.”

You blush.

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I just buried my face in your pretty pussy and you’re worried about an embarrassing thought?” Matt asks, and you huff.

“Well, when you put it that way—” He bites your thigh again. “Fine! Fine,” You huff. “I’m thinking about the seven wonders of the world.”

A beat.

Matt lets out a low chuckle, and your face flushes.

“Matthew!”

“What? I can’t help it,” He giggles, and as you start to move away, but he grips your thighs and pulls you closer, “Okay, okay. What about the seven wonders of the world?”

“I’ll tell you if you take off the blindfold.”

“Oh,” He lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, poor thing, this isn’t a negotiation.”

“Seems like it is—” He scoffs at this, “It is! You’re the one on your knees, I’ve already came, seems like I have a bit of leverage here—”

Matt rolls his eyes, and stands up, his hand coming up to your head to the blindfold. He pulls it off and takes just a second to brush hair from your face. Then, he wraps the tie around your neck. He pulls a bit, just snuggly tugging and applying a bit of pressure. He towers over you now, and he pulls the tie up a bit so that you’re looking at him.

“Listen to me, you little brat,” He growls, “What did I say about the attitude?” You just let out a whimper, and he clicks his tongue again. “I bet I can fuck the attitude out of you. Or at least, I can try.” He snaps, tightening the tie around your neck.

Then, he works on his pants and tugs his dress pants down just enough for him to pull his cock out. Then, he shifts the two of you so that you’re sitting on his lap, his tip teasing your folds.

He tugs on the tie, pulling you forward so he can bite and suck on your neck, and you begin to moan, whine at the feeling of. Matt just bites down, marking you in every way he can.

“Not used to all this attention, huh?” And then, Matt says his phrase of the night, “Poor thing,” He hums. His hand comes up to uncharacteristically kindly move the hair from your ear, and then begins to kiss every inch of your skin.

You’re like puddy in his hands. Mendable, soft.

He guides his cock to your folds, and then, as he distracts you with kisses and hickeys, guides you to sink down onto his cock. When you do, you let out a breathy moan, unused to the feeling of being so full..

After giving you a minute to adjust, Matt begins to thrust into you, encourages by your moans and egging you on with whispers of encouragement,

“Taking my cock so well for me,” He praises, planting kisses down your neck, “Like you’re made for me to fuck you like this,” He gasps as he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, So good for me,” He says. It’s like he’s addicted to kissing you, to kissing your neck and shoulders and every inch of skin he can get his lips on.

He fucks you intensely, and you feel every single thrust as it echoes through your body, and the longer he goes, the more he whispers in your ear, (“Come on, pretty thing, just keep taking my cock, just like that—Oh, god—Fuck, Baby, you feel so good,”) the closer you get to your climax.

“’m gonna—”

“I know, I know,” He hums, and then he smirks as he smells salty tears in the air. Tears run down your face, and Matt knows he’s won. “Aw, baby.. Did you ruin your eyeliner?” When you don’t respond, Matt pulls your hips down, commanding you to answer.

“Yes!” You whimper, a sob escaping your lips.

“Poor thing,” he coos, and his thrusts are particularly intent as he continues, “Poor, poor baby,” He hums, kissing your shoulder before biting down on it. And without another word, you grip his arm as you clench around him, cumming around his cock. He thrusts a few more times, “Gotta pull out before—”

“No!” You whine, “Just come inside, it’s fine—”

“Are you sure, I don’t want to—”

“Matt,” you whine, beginning to roll your hips, desperate to feel him come inside you. You whimper softly, as Matt thrusts into you, finally coming inside you. He rides out his own high before his thrusts come to a slow.

“Fuck,” He gasps, sweat dripping down his neck. “You were even better than I could imagine..” he confesses.

For a moment, the pair of you just breath. His hands slowly rub up and down your sides. Thoughts seem far away.. in the best way possible.

He knows you need a bath. He knows he needs to clean you and himself up. He knows he needs to teach you to suck him off. He should ask you how that was, what he should do again, what you would’ve preferred. He has a damn list, but all he can think to ask is—

“What were you thinking about earlier?”

“What?” you ask, cock still buried deep inside you.

“After I ate you out,” He starts, “You were thinking about the seven wonders of the world. What about them?”

You study his face. There’s no mocking intent, no malice in his voice.

“I was thinking about The Gardens of Babylon. How deeply I relate to them.”

“What? How can you relate to ancient architecture?”

“Well, we don’t know if they were even real. Maybe they were, but there are theories that it was all just.. poetic. That they weren’t real, and that the story is just.. something we choose to believe.”

His face twitches in confusion, trying to process what you mean, how can you relate to ancient architecture, especially ancient architecture that you don’t even know the certainty of.

“So, which one would I be?”

He expects you to ask questions for confirmation.

Instead, you answer almost immediately.

“The Roman Colosseum.” You grin.

“The colosseum?” He questions.

“Strong. Stable. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.” You pause, a smirk on your face. Your finger comes up to his nose. You run it down the shape of his nose, “Roman.” He grins.

“So, we’re the Gardens of Babylon and the Roman Colosseum?”

“No, no,” You shake your head, “we’re not the Gardens of Babylon and the Roman Colosseum! We’re the wonder of the world that’s built out of white marble, a wonder made because death doesn’t stop love-- We are the Taj Mahal.” You offer.

“Oh, my mistake.” He grins. “We’re the Taj Mahal.”

“See? You get it.” You smile back.

Matt thinks for a moment.

“So this morning, when I asked you what you were dreaming about this morning.. Technically, you were dreaming about us?”

You smile.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Matt just kisses you deep, pushing you back onto the bed as he begins to unbutton his shirt, tossing it off to the side.

The two of you spend your night intermittently going back and forth between passionate lovemaking—Part of Matt’s love language and talking and expressing how much you love him in an abstract way—Part of your love language.

Neither of you get much sleep that night.

#daredevil smut #daredevil #doe thoughts #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #smut

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foli-vora · 3 months ago

Text

devil in the night

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: i should be asleep but lmao, here we are. the brain just went 'matt sneaking into your room and eating you out while you're asleep' and i flung the blankets away and reached for my laptop like 'yes i understand completely'. it's been a while since i've written for matty and i have missed him immensely. enjoy angels! x

Word count: 700ish i think idk

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY - somnophilia, oral (f rec), overstimulation, matty being a hungry hungry boi, helmet stays on coz i like that shit

Your window is unlocked. Of course it is. It gives way under his gentle push until he’s able to creep through, the cool night breeze following him in and rustling your light drapes.

The slow, steady breaths that fill the room tell him you’re asleep, long lost to dreams with absolutely no awareness that he lurks in the shadows of your bedroom and his heart beats harder, thrumming strongly within his chest until he feels the heavy pulse of it in his head. He follows the breaths, chases the familiar scent of you until he can feel you close, the heat of your body stinging at his skin.

The mattress gives way under his knees and his hands reach to seek you out, following the form of your legs underneath the blankets until he feels the edge of them tucked loosely around your waist. He pulls at them softly, listening to the slide of cotton drag over your body until you’re bared to the room and he’s able to feel you properly.

Gloves run over bare skin and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. Did you anticipate his arrival? Did you sink into your pillows and think about this very moment? Did you work yourself up thinking about the heat of his mouth?

He hardens to the point of pain at the thought.

His hands part your thighs easily, careful not to jostle you as he settles onto his stomach and makes himself at home between your legs—his favourite place to be. You barely move, so deep in a slumber he doubts you’d notice much of anything at this point.

The smooth surface of his helmet rests against the heat of your thigh as he takes a moment to breathe you in, letting the scent of your pussy settle heavy on his tongue until the vicious tug of his appetite can’t take it for a second longer.

It’s been too damn long. He’ll ask for forgiveness later.

He’s soft about it.

There’s no rush—he has the rest of the night and he’s not moving until he’s sure he’ll have the taste of you clinging to his skin for the rest of the day.

His tongue drags leisurely over you, feeling the gentle parting of your folds under muscle until the sweet tang of your arousal sinks richly into his taste buds and he has to harshly fist the sheets to keep from groaning.

This is what he needs.

He finds your clit, softly circling it over and over until your scent in the room thickens and it’s all he knows, all he can breathe. He moves to lap at the wetness gathering at your entrance, unable to resist pressing impossibly closer to you, licking deeply, hungrily into your cunt until you’re flooding his tongue and smearing across his chin.

You’ll soon feel the burn of his stubble as he works you over more and more.

He goes back and forth, taking his time building your arousal up by lavishing your clit with soft laps and gentle strokes before practically drinking from you, tongue prodding and dragging against the slick walls of your pussy. He’s lost track of time, oblivious to anything and everything beyond this room, beyond you, by the time you begin to stir.

Your heart flutters, your breath catches and then you’re seeking him out, a hand soon meeting one of the sharp points of his helmet before your fingers stretch over the chilled back of it. You’re almost there—he can feel it, hear it, taste it.

He keeps his pace steady, feeling no need to rush you to the finish line as his tongue swirls and circles and flattens over your clit again and again.

A sleepy moan of his name falls from your lips when you reach your peak and he can’t help but rut into the firm mattress as you flood his tongue, the muscles in your thighs jumping and jerking beneath his hold.

“Shh,” he coos quietly against you when you start to pull away from his mouth, cunt sensitive and overworked. He's not done, not yet. “Let me enjoy you, sweetheart. I need it, please.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock imagine #daredevil fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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star-crossed-sluts · 11 months ago

Text

Matt Murdock X Chubby!Fem!Reader

Contents: 2.2k words, love confession/discussion, cheeky reader, giggly sex, chubby female reader, slight insecure reader but that's quickly solved, mentions of bullying regarding weight though very brief

Minors DNI

You are responsible for your own media consumption

You've dealt with strange looks all your life. It wasn't surprising their whispers had infiltrated your mind. Often you managed to catch yourself, stopping the thoughts that weren't quite yours. When you first met Matt, the most frequent one was, of course, you could only get a blind man to like you. It was cruel, and you tried to chase it away every time, but there was a small part of you that thought, if only I can keep him from touching me, we can go on like this.

Because you were a fool.

He always grabs your hips first, almost a warning of the devil to come.

“What’re you doing up,” he rumbled against your neck, voice thick with sleep. You're half-sure he’s subconsciously tracking how long you've been away from his arms every night, waking himself when the timer passes your usual bathroom breaks’ duration.

His hands push even further, rubbing your sides until he's gripped two handfuls of your soft stomach. Bare chest plastered against your back, his grip manhandling your hips back to meet his. You used to shy away from his touch, wanting to keep the you from reality separate from the you he's crafted in his mind's eye.

Little hard to feel ashamed of your body when he was rocking his hard-on against your ass.

“You're insatiable, Matthew.”

His groan was pained, like you were terribly twisting his arm instead of letting him fondle you in the kitchenette. “Don't call me Matthew,” he griped, one hand searching for the bottom of your nightshirt. “Reminds me of my priest.”

You leaned into him, a fond smile playing on your lips as he found the edge of your panties, starting to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Because you’re such an altar boy,” you joked as his fingers trailed the hem, outlining the curve where your leg met your mound. You know the moment he thinks of a retort, because his lips twitch against your pulse.

“Well, I do seem to spend a lot of time on my knees-” He burst into laughter as your elbow came back at him, letting you attack his ribs to distract you from the way his hand explored your upper thigh. “Abuse,” he accused, “attacking a blind man!”

“It’s alright, I know a great lawyer.”

Matt chuckled against the thrumming vein in your neck, his grip on your stomach pulling you tighter against him. “Yeah? You know, my rates are pretty steep, but I think we can come up with some alternative payment.”

“I was talking about Foggy.”

His laugh flew out of him, taken completely off guard, and sent you into manic giggles right along with him, throwing yourself back against his chest to hold you upright. “You're terrible,” he cackled, tugging you to shuffle backwards to the bedroom with him. “Come back to bed, trouble.”

“Oh, don't you start with me,” you faux-threatened, but still gave in and helped him navigate the living room. “You're so much more trouble than I am.”

He pretended to mull it over, hmm-ing and mmm-ing between soft kisses on your neck. “Alright,” he decided, “I'll let you have that one. Y'know, since you obviously need a win right now.”

You hit the mattress, helping each other climb into bed like you hadn't been in months, as opposed to the twenty minutes it took you to make and drink your sleep aid. Only when you were wrapped in each other's arms again did you gush, “oh, yes, obviously. How can I thank you, Matty?”

Who could ever think you were anything but beautiful - that he thought you were anything but stunning - when he got such an eager, bashful grin at the suggestion. When his entire face lit up with a pink hue, as if he hasn't helped himself to your body any chance he got. How long have you lived together, and he still got that cute crinkle in the corners of his eyes with the force of his beaming as he dove for your lips.

“Y'know,” he murmured into your mouth, “I was disappointed when I woke up and you were gone.”

You dragged your hands down his bare back, snapping his waistband with a grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he emphasized, like he was offended by the teasing tone you took with him, snapping your underwear. A warning that he was ready to give as good as he got. “It's not nice to leave your boyfriend all alone in bed.”

You hummed, pretending to really consider that as you let him pull you to straddle his hips. He helped you out of your night shirt, tossing the thin fabric aside and letting out a pleased groan as you plastered your chest to his. You dragged your lips softly over his jaw, a smile twitching into place as he chased you, trying to catch a kiss. “Are you saying you think I should make it up to you?”

“I'm saying it's been entirely too long since you've sat on my face.”

A laugh burst from you at that, even as Matt peeled your underwear down your thighs. “Oh, yes, it's already been several days!”

“Exactly: it's been days,” he groaned, offering his hands for you to balance as you tossed around to escape the cotton around your knees, working them down one leg, then the other.

“Next time,” you promised with a soft kiss, nimble fingers working the strings on his pants. “I drank my-”

“Your sleepy girl mocktail?” He grinned like he could feel your embarrassed glare, kissing the pout off your lips. “Can taste it. You added honey tonight?”

“I needed something to make it sweeter,” you huffed. A tap on his hip and he lifted them for you, helping you work his pants off. You couldn't help a smile as his dick slapped his stomach, leaving a smudge of pearly precum on his smooth skin. “You're such an evil man,” you accused, wrapping your fingers around his base to watch the way his hips jerked into your palm. A stroke with your thumb along that thick vein and he leaked another stream, dripping down the side of him and onto your hand. “You're this hard when you've been teasing your poor girlfriend?”

Your hips moved on their own when he slid two thick fingers between his lips, grinding against him as he laved his tongue over the digits. That smug grin you hated to love spread across his face as his wet fingers fit themselves to your slit, one rubbing soft shapes into your clit while the other pressed inside you. “My poor girlfriend,” he mused, “who never gets off on teasing me?”

You shut him up with a kiss, trying to smother his chuckles that told you he knew exactly what you were doing. Still, it didn't stop him from taking advantage, pressing his tongue into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. The bitterness of the tart cherry juice and the sweetness of the honey from your drink dancing on his tongue, disappointingly hiding the taste of you that he's begun to crave. If he pushed deeper, he could almost imagine he found it again, in the back of your throat where nothing could reach but him. Somehow it felt even more intimate than the way you worked each other up with your hands: being the only one to know what you taste like behind the toothpaste and soda you cycled through daily.

Matt's no idiot. He hears the comments you get, feels the stares - sometimes even more than you do. He wished he could find a way to tell you how wrong they were, but how would he even begin? How do you tell someone that when you wake up alone, the first thing you do is listen for where your girlfriend’s gone? That you could sculpt her exactly from how much you touch her, desperate to commit her to memory. How do you tell someone that even without your sight, your every sense is devoted to her?

He supposed he could settle for making you see stars while he figured it out.

You grinned against Matt's lips, a slight giggle falling out, as he rolled you onto your back. You were always tempted to make fun of him for his favorite position, but there was nothing Catholic about the way he took you.

Your hands kept working his cock as he arranged you - hooking your knees over the crooks of his elbows so he could feel your thick thighs pressed against him - to hear him curse under his breath. “Careful,” he warned, kissing his way down the side of your neck, “or we'll be up all night,”

“Mm, is that supposed to discourage me?”

A strained laugh against your tender skin as you gave a particularly harsh tug. “You think you're so cute,” he managed out, trying to sound anything other than reverent.

You shared a chaste kiss as you guided him between your thighs. “I'm adorable,”

“Yes, you are. Arms around my neck, angel.”

You always ended up the same way when one or the other needed some love. Nose to nose, lips glancing off each other like you were shy teenagers again. Your legs over Matt's arms gave him the feeling of holding you completely, letting his hands wander to feel every reaction your body gave him. Your arms around his neck, letting you claw up his back or card through his soft hair, pull his mouth wherever you wanted it.

A match made in heaven.

Matt had long since broken you of your bad habit to muffle yourself, the breathy moan falling unhindered from your lips as he pressed into you like coming home. Your voice rang in the empty bedroom, more beautiful than any song, perfectly accompanied by the slick sounds from your cunt as he started a slow, grinding pace. Your hands clenched and unclenched, scratching the base of his neck as you lost yourselves in each other. Lips connected in passing swipes, sharing a deep kiss and almost separating before diving back in. His fingers traced every curve, dip and fold of your soft skin, reveling in your body the way only a man truly in love could.

The word haunted him until he told you. “Love you,” he managed through heaving breaths, soft and quiet in the privacy of the bed you shared. Then, as if afraid you hadn’t heard him, he said it louder. “I’m in love with you, y’know that?”

“Matty,”

A great big grin spread over his face when you whined, ankles locking together behind him like you thought he’d stop talking if he fucked you deeper. “Why so shy,” he hummed, stealing another wet kiss. “You didn’t know that? I don’t tell you enough?” He felt your feet kick and your lips turn into a pout, laughing at your mini fit.

“‘S different,” you insisted, dragging him back to your lips, only to pull him back once you’ve thought of a defense. “In love is bigger than love.”

It’s a conversation you had in the early stages, when friendship was just barely turning into something more, when you were both stuck dropping hints, hoping the other would make the leap. You didn’t think he remembered until he managed to quote you with his hips pressed into yours. “‘Love is a feeling you can’t control, being in love is a choice- a commitment,’ I know.” He plunged into you as deeply as he could, bringing your lips to his with his palms cupping your round cheeks. He only pulled back when you were both struggling to breathe, searching each other’s air for anything you could get from it. “I,” he enunciated carefully, making sure he left no room for misinterpretation, “am hopelessly in love with you, darling. I choose you every hour of the day. I would choose you in a room of women, I would choose you if you were a worm, and in every other ridiculous scenario that you let keep you up at night.” He heard your lips part as your jaw went slack, smelled the salt of your budding tears as he ranted to you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I know it’s bigger, and you don’t have-”

“I’m in love with you.”

He felt his heart thump in his chest, beating its way out as you dragged him down to your level, smacking a hundred split-second kisses to every inch of his face. “I love you, I am in love with you, I would pick you- I love you so much, Matty!”

He pulled your hips up higher on his lap so he could get closer to you, arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. His firm body pressing into your soft one like he could make a home in your chest, let you surround him until you would never have to be apart.

“I hope you realize we’ll definitely be up all night now,”

“I’m not the one who has court tomorrow,”

A giddy laugh smothered in the crook of your neck as his hips started pumping into you again. “You are trouble,”

You pressed your lips to his temple. “Perfect match for you, then.”

“Yes, you are.”

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farfromstrange · 3 months ago

Note

Can I get a bouquet of peonies and roses with college! Matt discovering a love for silk?

Matt and silk in the same sentence were bound to have me get carried away. Thank you so much for your request, Shiori, and I hope it's close to what you were imagining!

Procrastination and Silk

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: College!Matt Murdock x Reader

Request: A bouquet of... peonies and roses.

Warnings: Smut (18+), clothed oral (afab!receiving), silk kink (?), coming untouched, underwear ripping, matt is a horny college boy what can i say

WC: 759

The late afternoon sun streams through his dorm window, shining over your discarded criminal law textbook on the hardwood floor. You should be studying right now.

Emphasis on should.

His lips move against yours, a delicate dance he has expertly mastered. His hand, although not yet entirely confident, runs over from your waist to your thigh, caressing the soft skin under the hem of your dress. A sigh slips past your lips into his open mouth, and he swallows the sound greedily.

Every time you find yourself in this position—and you’ve been in it many, many times before—it’s like he’s touching you again for the first time, like he hasn’t memorized every inch of your beautiful body by now.

“Can I…?” Matt nudges the fabric. He always acts so stoic, but without those black-rimmed glasses covering his eyes, you can see every twinge of uncertainty reflected in his hazel eyes.

You cut him off, “Yes.”

He pulls the dress over your head swiftly, and then his lips are on yours again. His hand returns to its earlier journey, though when he brushes against the fabric of your panties, he stops. It feels different, a gentle caress of an angel’s hand, or water running through his fingers. And as it slides against your skin, slotting so perfectly against your curves, it speaks to him like a siren’s song.

His heart starts racing. Sweat starts to build in his pores, and he suddenly pulls away.

You frown. “Matty, what’s wrong?”

“It’s– What’re you wearing?” he asks, breathlessly so.

“Underwear,” you say.

He tilts his head, fingers brushing against your underwear again—from your panties to your bra. “Feels different.”

“It’s silk. Why?” You find his hazel eyes. “Do you not like it?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, I–” God, his brain is refusing to catch up.

“It’s okay, I can take it off.”

He grabs a hold of your wrist. “No,” he says, “don’t!”

“What?”

Matt growls in the back of his throat. “It’s so soft. Don’t…”

You try to voice your confusion, but he buries his face against the silk covering your breasts, and the only sound that comes out of you is a strangled moan. He rubs his cheek, his nose, his fucking lips against the tender flesh.

His tongue darts out to circle your nipple. He wants to get closer. He wants to drown in you; he wants that silk to open up and swallow him so he can feel like this forever. Your heart races under his touch. He can taste your arousal in the air, how your wet pussy clenches around nothing, wishing you were wrapped around his cock, and it takes everything in him not to come in his jeans.

Matt trails kisses down your stomach—wet, needy kisses—until he reaches your panties. Silk, silk all over. A million volts of electricity shoot through his veins, bringing his blood to a boil. He wants you to never take it off.

You throw your head back with an obscene cry of his name when he buries his head between your legs, spreading them open like he never does anything else and licking the expanse of the fabric covering your cunt. No amount of fabric could ever stop his mouth from working the filthiest magic on you. He is a devoted Catholic, after all; the act of worshipping what he deems most holy runs in his blood.

He sucks and licks at your pussy, fingers splaying over your breasts. So soft, he thinks. So wet and soft, and all-consuming.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Oh God, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. Matt grabs a hold of the waistband and pulls, hard. The silk slides through your folds, his tongue finally colliding with your aching clit. His bare face is slick with the essence of you, but he only dives deeper. He devours you. The wave keeps building and building and building, and—

Your new underwear tears clean through just as your orgasm crashes in. It hits you with the force of a meteoroid, forcing you to trap his head between your quivering thighs. He loses control of everything that was keeping him from falling apart, and he, too, comes with a moan against your pussy. For a moment, the world seems to disappear. There’s just you and him and that godforsaken underwear you are so glad you decided to wear today.

And the next time you come to visit him, Matt’s bed is covered in a set of silk sheets and on top of them, a new pair of underwear—silk underwear.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #daredevil #college!matt #charlie cox #lizzi's birthday bouquets 2025!

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hellsburners · 1 month ago

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let's get intertwined

summary: matt misses your voice. pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: 18+ warning, top matt murdock, bottom male reader, phone s3x, use of toys a/n: this is hellsburners born again did y'all miss me?

masterlist | more matt murdock

Matt dragged himself to the couch after a long day at work, a wine glass on one hand and an unopened bottle of merlot in the other.

He wallowed in the supposed silence of the room, his senses focusing on the minute sound of every object, like the tick of the clock, or the drops falling from the faucet.

He missed a lot of things since you’ve been gone. Work demanded you stay in San Francisco for two weeks while Matt stayed in New York. He missed the humming you would do as you cleaned the flat, or the sound of your heels as you skipped and danced around. He missed the smell of your fresh shampoo and body wash whenever you left the shower, or the smell of your perfume when you hugged him goodbye.

It has been exactly nine days since you left and he felt like all traces of you had gone. Matt grits his teeth after he sipped on the wine, the bitterness tracing down his throat. You would’ve laughed at him for having the reaction, you always had the higher alcohol tolerance.

He traced a finger on his phone, debating if he should give you a call. It was half past midnight for Matt, meaning you were already probably asleep, you always cared for a full eight hours.

As he finished the glass his phone started to vibrate, the voice assistant repeating your name in a monotonous tone. He scrambled to answer, almost dropping the glass on the carpeted floor.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said in a calm tone, he tried to mask the fact that his heart was beating fast and that he was excited you finally gave him the call.

“Hey, baby,” you said, he could tell from your voice that you were tired. “How’s work?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he said. “You sound exhausted.”

“Well work is always tiring, there’s nothing new about that,” you said, he could hear you place your keys on the kitchen counter, the sound of you kicking your shoes as you huddled yourself on the couch. “I just want to go home, I miss you so much.”

Matt sighed, you don’t know how much he felt the same. “I miss you too. I don’t think I can handle any more takeout recommendations from Kirstie.”

“Matthew, don't be rude, she’s trying her best!” you laughed. Matt could feel his cheeks warm up from the sound of your laugh.

“Well she’s not like you,” he said, toying with the hem of his shirt. “No one is.”

“Oh yeah?” you smiled sheepishly. “I bet you’re flirting with a lot of pretty boys and girls while I’m away.”

“How would I even know if they’re pretty?” he chuckles. He paused for a second like he was about to confess a sin. He scratched the back of his neck before letting out a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ve finally used that lube you got me.”

There was an awkward bit of silence, like Matt just said the wrong thing, he was embarrassed, he wasn’t really the type to say his perverted thoughts out loud. He felt like God was listening to him and judging him from above. You, however, always teased him about it. How, one time, you caught him masturbating to your sweater, or when you found out that he used to hear you pleasure yourself when you were still neighbors due to his heightened senses.

So, one day, you gifted him a special bottle of lube and a fleshlight so he could use it. It was merely a joke, but you also kinda teetered on the idea of you two using it together when one of you was away.

“And the stroker?” you said, your heart starting to beat fast.

“Yeah—I used it too,” he said, his tone like a defeated man. “It’s nothing like you though, it lacks the softness of your lips, or the warmth of your mouth—”

Matt traced his hand on his thigh, teasing the growing heat in his center by avoiding it. You imagined him on the couch, legs spread, touching himself to the idea of you sucking him off. You let out a soft moan under your breath, writhing in your seat to ward off the growing heat.

At the other end of the line Matt smirks, your moans only made him harder. He palmed his cock against his pants, the growing bulge aches to be let out. “I tried to make due though, I stroked my cock with it everyday thinking of you, but it’s just not like you—it’s nothing like your ass too.”

“Matt—” you moaned.

“Plus it’s not about relieving myself, I miss you–your face and your body,” he said, gripping onto his clothed hardness. “I miss the way you sound when I fuck you, or the way you beg for me to go harder.”

“I miss you too,” you said, palming your hardness as well. “I miss riding your thick thighs and holding onto your chest. I miss the way you feel inside me—it makes me lose myself.”

“Tell me more—please baby,” he said, unzipping his pants.

“I miss it when you come home from work,” you said, pulling your pants down. “You’re so tired but you act like you just want to undress me and take me on the kitchen counter.”

“It’s not like we haven’t,” Matt said, a bead of wetness forming on his tip.

“Yeah—I know,” you moan. “Or when—you know—you come home from being out at night. You seem to change a bit. I mean for fuck’s sake, Matt, you get yourself beaten up and cut by knives but when you come home all you want to do is fuck me.”

Matt recalls every time he has come home from patrolling Hell’s Kitchen. He would sometimes catch you asleep on the couch, you’d get so worried of his injuries, but Matt didn’t care. The thrill of his crusade, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he jumped from building to building, or the rush of punching and kicking. He couldn’t help but crave for you when he finds you asleep in your underwear, his calloused hands running through your soft skin.

“I’m so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Matt moaned, his hand stroking his thick cock, the precum acting as lube for his dry hands.

“Check your phone,” you said. Matt’s phone dings, the voice assistant says you’ve sent a link, it was for an app for a remote controlled vibrator. “Maybe you’d want to play with it while we’re on call?” you said teasingly.

The two of you got ready for what was to come. You were still on the couch, your lower garments forgotten now, beside you was the vibrator and a small bottle of lube. Matt had taken his shirt off, the silver cross laid on his broad chest. His pants and underwear were pulled down as well, his fingers pushing lube inside the small silicone stroker.

He had managed to navigate the app while you prepared, there was simply a bar that would increase or decrease the amount of vibrations. “Ready?” he said, his cock already standing tall.

“Yeah,” you said. The lube was cold, but the sensation soon changed to pressure as you inserted the vibrator. It wasn’t as big as Matt, nor was it as thick, but the idea of you using it and him in control made you more horny than anything.

Matt pressed his sensitive tip on the stroker, he shuddered, swallowing his saliva as he slowly inserted his cock. You could hear each other moan, the vibrator finally inside you. “Fuck—I wish it was your hole I’m fucking right now.”

“I wish it was your cock too,” you moaned, slowly pushing and pulling on the toy. You squirmed in your sofa, lewd sounds spewing from your mouth as you gained more momentum. Matt did the same, he was gripping onto the stroker so tight his knuckles were white. He wanted to stroke harder, but he didn’t want to come fast.

Matt pressed on his phone, bringing the vibrator to the first level. You gasped from the sudden intensity, your feet kicking as you whimpered. That only egged Matt on, he was stroking and twisting the toy on the head of his cock where it was most sensitive, he spewed different curses as he stroked. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels—so good,” you said, your voice shaking.

“Feels better than me?”

“No—not better,” you gasp again as Matt increased the level to five. Shit, shit, shit. Your neck was extended, your hip lifting off the sofa as the toy stayed inside you, your cock a leaking mess. “But—it’s making me lose my fucking mind.”

“You can’t imagine how hard that makes me,” he said. “This stroker isn’t as good as you by the way, it’s tight but not as tight, I have to grip it hard just to even come close to how you feel. But—fuck—I can’t stop imagining you here, riding my cock.”

“I wouldn’t stop,” you said, “I want to see you turn red and weak from me riding it.”

Matt felt his orgasm come closer, he didn’t want this to end. He scrolled the app to its highest setting, you let out a loud whimper, your tip continued to leak, your legs shaking and losing control. You cursed, begging Matt to fuck you when you came home.

“Fuck—I can’t take it anymore,” you said, your chest heaving. Sweat dripped down Matt’s forehead, his hips already rising from his seat to fuck the stroker, he knew he was leaking more and more onto the toy, which only contributed to its slickness.

“Cum for me,” he said. “Cum for me, my love. I’m almost there.”

In the three counts you could hear him let out a loud and raspy fuck. He removed the stroker before shooting cum all over his bare chest and abdomen. You spasmed and writhed on the sofa, cum shooting all over you.

You both laid on the couch gasping for air. Matt had turned off the toy, his wrist hurted from the stroking. “I’m coming home tomorrow,” you said, chasing your breath. “My boss said my tasks were done so I could—come home.”

“Then prepare for much worse, because we’re not sleeping when you come home,” the both of you laughed. And, indeed, it was much much worse.

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one! Also do tell me if you want to be on a taglist?

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut #daredevil x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader smut #daredevil born again #daredevil #matt murdock

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carbonfiction · 2 months ago

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would you do a cutie inexperienced matt murdock wih a dom reader? 👉🏻👈🏻

Oh I absolutely can anon <3!

Now i had a few different ideas for this but ended up going fairly simple?? However im not at all against dropping something else w Matt and a more dom/experienced reader if thats what y'all wanna see? Lmk? <3 I am a sucker for an inexperienced cutie!!

Warnings?: shooooort im so sorry. Sortaaa inexperienced College!Matt, Handjobs, lil swearing, boob/nip sucking and a tug at matts crucifix...

Also sorta inspired by this here linkkk :p

Theres a gentle tremble to matts legs as you sit between them, a hand clasped tight in the sheets besides his hip. The dorm room quiet aside from heavy breathes; mostly his as you shift to sit on your knees on the lumpy mattress.

Matts pants long kicked away, left in only his boxers as they strain against his hard on. Beads of precum staining the fabric the longer your eyes amire him.

Each sensation dailed high as your palm presses into the fabric; firm yet slow strokes over his length making his abs clench with every shakey breath. The soft friction on his already sensitive cock making his hips buck.

"Doin okay matty?" you coo gently, checking in.

Matt nods, throat bobbing thicky with a breathy sound, but its not enough. You need to hear him say it, need him to confirm verbally. "Yeah? Gotta use your big boy words for me so i know.."

"Im okay sweetheart," he murmers, a tiny smile cracking over his lips at your care; your heartbeat steady in his ears compaired to his own running a mile a minute. "Better than actually.."

Matt hears the smile on your face when you giggle, the sound airy and girlish as you run a hand up his thigh. The light hairs tickling against your palm before you hook your fingers in the band of his underwear.

"Alright. Thats good." you nod, tongue wetting your lips audibly as you tug them down, "But you just tell me if you need me to slow down okay?"

"Mhmp.. Yeah.." matt says, His cock slapping at his stomach at the slight lift of his body. "yeah promise."

Your mouth waters at the sight of him bare; gently toned body on display for you as you shift again. This time to lay beside him, throwing a leg over his to remain close.

"So cute all hard f''me matty.." you murmer, eyes bright at the way he reacts; Red tipped and leaking precum on his lower stomach as you finally wrap your hand around him. "Looks like it hurts"

"Yeah.. S-shit.. So hard." he gasps, head falling to the side against your own bare chest as you stroke him. The soft strands of his hair tickling against your skin.

You gasp playfully at Matts words, surprised, yet teasing. "Ooh, look at that language Mathew.." your lips press against the top of his head. Free hand smoothing over his chest, nails a soft scratch at his abdomen up, up, up until those fingers tug at his chain.

Matt makes a broken little sound, head angled back, mouth dropping open against your boob. The little gasp exhaled around your nipple as he rocks his hips up again, almost already feeling oversensitive at the way your thumb offers friction at the head of his wheeping cock.

The crucifix offering a soft glow in the moonlight as it sits against the side of your hand, a little tight on his neck as it digs in from the back. "S'okay..i gotcha matty. You just keep that pretty mouth busy and ill take care of you. Make you feel real good"

#carbonrambles #carbonasksforasks #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock #mathew murdock #daredevil #daredevil smut #college!matt murdock

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souliebird · 3 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 30]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 2.5k

ao3 link

A breeze rolls down the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and you tug your sleeves up to cover your hands to try to fight off the chill it sends through you. To your right, Karen’s long hair whips around her shoulders and she does not at all seem bothered by it as she continues on with her story.

“So, we went back to the first bakery, and luckily, the lady there had seen it and took it behind the counter before anyone could snatch it up. Not that anyone would want a piece of shit flip phone, but still, having it floating around wouldn’t be the wisest thing.”

“Frank doesn’t seem like the forgetful type,” you comment, your lips turning down into a frown. The man who is the Punisher always seems so on top of everything whenever you see him, so the idea that he just left his phone on a table is very out of character to you.

Karen huffs, “Oh, he isn’t, but that is the danger of a concussion. You have to keep an eye out.”

You take the warning and mentally store it with a note to do a lot of research on the subject. You have already started a first-aid binder with step-by-step instructions for different types of injuries. You are going to have to have a full ‘chapter’ on concussions - it will match the one you’ve already done for minor stitches and wound cleaning. Soon enough, you are going to have a fully detailed guide and you will probably end up printing out copies for both Foggy and Karen as a just in case.

“I’m guessing having a helmet doesn’t help at all with that problem?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

The blonde gives you a side-eyed look before dryly replying, “he might as well be wearing the scarf.”

You shake your head fondly. So far, Matt hasn’t had any head injuries that you are aware of, but you’ve seen other bruises he’s gotten. Maybe his armor is in need of an upgrade.

“How did the rest of the day go?”

Karen just barely ducks her chin and this sweet, soft little smile forms on her face as stroll down the sidewalk, “it was really good. It was good to get out of the city, even just for a few hours. To pretend to be normal, you know? The market was nice - Max had a lot of fun. He got pretty spoiled in the treat department. Didn’t you, boy?”

You both look down to the dog walking at her heel. Realizing attention is now on him, he looks up with his big square head and gives a wide doggy smile, his tail starting to go back and forth. You laugh at his sweetness.

“I bet he did. He’s a good boy.”

Max is a very good boy - for your park trip today, Karen had joined you and Minnie had spent a good hour and a half playing with him. He had happily followed her all over the playground, going through tunnels and down slides until your daughter completely wore herself out. She passed out as soon as she had been secured into her stroller and now you and Karen were enjoying some Girl Time.

“Did you get spoiled?” you follow up, curious if Karen bought anything for herself at the vintage market. You know she is looking for some new furniture pieces after some were ‘destroyed’ and you want to live a bit vicariously through her purchases.

You don’t know if it was the tone of your voice or if her mind was elsewhere, but Karen says your name a bit scandalously before delving into giggles. Your cheeks heat up instantly and you start shaking your head.

“That isn’t what I meant!”

“Are you sure? Because I did get pretty Spoiled,” she teases, shimmying her shoulders for emphasis. You have to bite your lip, so you don’t burst into laughter. You haven’t had someone to just gossip and chat with in so long, but it is so easy to fall into a rhythm with Karen. She’s kind and has a good heart and you don’t need to hide anything from her - plus, she has so much boldness it counters your anxiety and meekness in such a good way.

You are starting to think she might actually end up being a real friend to you as opposed to just a friend of Matt’s.

“Or should I say, Frank did. Wait, look.”

You pause as she pulls out her phone and begins tapping at it. You idly rock the stroller as you wait and a few moments later, Karen is handing you her phone.

“Oh my God, Karen, you look at you!” you gasp as you almost unashamedly ogle the mirror selfie she is showing you. She is all dolled up to look like a vintage pin-up girl - her hair is curled and pinned, she’s got on bright red lipstick and has a sexy little cat eye, and she is in a set of deep blue lingerie complete with garters and sheer stockings. You can tell it was taken before her outing, as you can see the dress she wore laid out on the bed behind her. “You look hot as hell!”

“Thank you,” she preens as you return her phone. “Frank thought so as well.”

“Did you send him that?”

She laughs and shakes her head, “No, it was a surprise. But next time he’s out of town, I might send it as a little reminder to not use his head as a weapon.”

“That would be a good motivation,” you tell her as you begin walking again and you both fall into a fit of giggles. You can just imagine Karen sending the image off with a stern warning about being safe.

“Do you have any pictures of you in your dress?” Karen suddenly asks and you find yourself heating up again.

While you think you looked pretty in the dress Matt had bought you for your date, you looked nowhere near as stunning as Karen did for hers. You had been so nervous about meeting the dress code that you had gone the minimalist route and taking a mirror selfie hadn’t even crossed your mind - you had no one to show it off to anyways.

However, Minnie had insisted on taking a picture of you with Matt before you left for the night - a horror that reminded you of girls being ushered in front of doors for homecoming pictures. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing and Matt looked about a million times better than you. Nonetheless, you bring up the photo - shot from Minnie’s low point of view and at a Dutch angle - and hand over your phone.

Karen instantly cooes.

“You look stunning. Matt is going to want to frame this.”

“I doubt he remembers we took it,” you mumble out, “It was a little hectic trying to leave. Minnie was so excited.”

“Of course she was,” Karen says as she gives you back your phone. “It was your first date! Matt was so giddy on Friday; it was so cute. I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before.” You feel her give you a look over then her voice drops to something a bit softer, “We dated, for a minute, before everything started to go sideways. He was cool and charming and nothing like he is when he’s with you. I envy you for that.”

You stop mid step and look with wide eyes at her, shocked by the new information. You had no idea they had previously had a relationship and insecurity bubbles in your stomach.

“You dated..?”

Karen nods, then gently hooks her arm with yours and nudges you to continue walking.

“Just before the firm shut down - before Frank’s trial. It was...complicated. I didn’t know who he was, then. He was lying and hurting us - hurting me. He was focused on something else and once we started really getting the trial and…” she trails off, shaking her head. “Everything was a mess. He was a mess. We couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust him. I was in over my head with Frank’s case. Once that was over, and what he had going on was done, that was the end. It had nothing to do with the Devil and everything to do with him.”

Your heart sinks and a tightness gathers in your throat. You are well aware Matt has had problems in the past regarding his second life clashing with his personal one, but you didn’t think it involved dating his co-worker and friend. You can hear the emotion in Karen’s voice - the hurt and the resolved anger and pain - and you don’t want to be you in a few years.

You want to trust Matt.

Karen, as if sensing your discomfort, squeezes your arm. “That’s why I envy you. He’s trying so hard to be good enough - to not put you through what he did with us. I know there isn’t a storm surrounding us to make the boats rock right now, but when one comes, and there will always be a storm with this life, I don’t think he’s going to repeat his mistakes. Or I hope he won’t, because God knows I’ll shoot him myself if he does.”

The words dig into your soul and part of you wants to shatter over how wrong she is. She sounds so confident in her words, but you know they aren’t true.

“Karen, he’s being better for his daughter. He wants to be good for her. He wants to be a good father.”

Karen tsks out your name, “You don’t really believe that do you? He glows when he talks about you. He was practically walking on air yesterday telling us about your dinner. And you can’t tell me that That,” she gestures to the ruby hanging from your neck, “is anything less than a confession.”

Your hand darts up to wrap around the pendant as blood starts to pound in your ears. You remember exactly how you felt when he had given it to you.

You had felt special.

You had felt Wanted.

((“I love you.”))

((“I’m yours.”))

((“I love you.”))

You quickly shake your head, “you’re looking into it too much. He said he wanted to make up for the dates he missed, of course he made it grand. He wouldn’t…he wouldn’t, pardon the expression, look at me twice if it weren’t for Minnie.”

“Well, that certainly isn’t true, considering you wouldn’t have Minnie if he hadn’t ‘looked’ at you.”

You keep your eyes down, looking at the top of the stroller as you walk. Your desire to be wanted clashes with your self-doubt but you know you can’t let it win.

You can’t let yourself be hurt like Karen says she was hurt.

“It isn’t like that…” you whisper, and you feel Karen’s shoulders drop. She squeezes your arm again, but she doesn’t push the conversation. You walk in silence for the rest of the block, coming to a stop at a crosswalk, and you mentally tell yourself to get out of your head.

You’ve known the truth, and you’ve accepted it - there is no need for you to be gloomy.

Not when you are out having a nice time with a potential friend.

You force your gaze back up and focus it across the street, determined to come up with a new topic of discussion. As you wait for the light to change, you catch sight of a television in the window of the bodega on the corner.

Your lips dip into a scowl as Tony Stark sits at a roundtable, surrounded by people you have seen dominate the news lately, gesturing wildly while a ticker crawls across the bottom of the screen. You don’t need to be close enough to read it to know what it says - ‘the Enhanced debate’.

You absolutely hate all the fear mongering the news has been doing and the narrative the country has taken. It reminds you of so many horrible stories you heard about in history class, and you cannot believe the discussions being had.

But it is not hard for you to believe that people like Stark are advocating for there to be some sort of registry. He is at the top of the totem pole, and no one will come for him - and if they do, he can get out of it, as seen by his Committee Hearings years ago. You’ve heard his talking points about oversight and collateral damage and think it is all ridiculous.

It is all ‘regulations for thee and none for me’.

The light finally turns green, and you and Karen cross the street. As you pass the television, you glare at it, eyes going right to the Mayor of New York who is nodding along with Stark. You regret voting for him.

“I can’t believe they are proposing that shit,” Karen spits and you turn to see her looking just as angry as you feel. “Going after innocent people instead of the people who are actually dangerous. They just sit on their asses theorizing about potential destruction while real people are being hurt. They could go after drugs or guns or the predatory policies on housing, but no, that hurts their bottom line. They’d rather talk about gathering the DNA of newborns to test.”

Your stomach turns at the thought of a doctor taking Minnie’s blood and running it through one of Stark’s proposed machines. You know she has abilities, but would her DNA show her as an Enhanced? Would Matt’s?

You know it is all beyond unethical - but when has the government ever cared about ethics? Everyone knows very well now, thanks to the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., that the everyday person is being watched to the nth degree. None of them have any problem looking into your phones or emails - why would they care about looking at your blood.

It is all about threat detection to them.

You bite your lip before admitting, “I’m more worried about what happens after they do the testing.” You tighten your grip on the stroller and drop your voice. “What if they try to take Minnie away?”

The words don’t even finish leaving your lips before Karen is giving you a hard look, with equally hard words, “Matt would never allow that. You would never allow that. Me and Foggy wouldn’t allow that, and Frank certainly would not allow it. You know we would fight it tooth and nail in court and out of it. No one is coming near you or your daughter.”

You look back to the faces of the men who are trying to destroy your small world and wonder if the Devil really could take them all on.

You pray to God you will never have to find out.

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@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you #daredevil #matt murdock x you

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brokebonewritings · 3 months ago

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Dinnertime Confessions

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: 18+, Slice of Life, Fluff, Domestic Bliss

Summary: You invite your cousin Peter over for dinner. Peter and Matt become aware of each other's after hour hobbies. Song: Young Tonight by Plain White T's

Word Count: 1.2K

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Peter shifts in his seat uncomfortably as the silence around the table becomes deafening. It felt like the air was just hanging. You had invited your cousin over to have dinner with Matt and yourself since they seemed to hit it off well on their first encounter. Maybe it was some weird teenager thing.

You clear your throat and turn to Peter, “How’s school going? You’re at that fancy tech school right?”

“Oh!” He jumps in his seat a bit, “Yeah, Midtown High. Yeah! It’s great, I love it there.”

You nod happily and turn my head to look at Matt. He also looks very uncomfortable but in his own grumpy pout. You tap his leg under the table and see a soft smile replace his frown.

“A-are you guys planning any wedding stuff yet?” Peter asks quietly, and you smile.

“Not yet, but I will call Aunt May when we do!” you reply, “I know you both want to be apart of the process.”

“Of course! You’re our family.” He says simply.

Matt then clears his throat, “So, Peter, Do any sports or extracurriculars?”

Silence falls over the table at his sudden question. You look to my cousin who looks extremely uncomfortable.

“Pete, you alright?” You ask

“Huh?” He says coming out of his small daze, “Oh! Yeah! I’m fine… Uh I do Academic Decathlon, and I intern…”

“You intern?” You ask, “Where at?”

“Stark Industries.”

“Huh.” Matt lets out.

“Okay, what is going on with the both of you?” You finally ask, looking between your cousin and Matt.

Earlier that evening

“You’re on the wrong side of New York, Spiderman.”

Daredevil stood on the rooftop near your apartment. The unwelcome visitor sat on the light fixture nearby. It wasn’t every day the web slinger was around Hell’s Kitchen

“Sorry, Mr. Devil. Was just in the area!” He replied.

“Don’t stay too long, it’s not safe for a kid like you.”

“What? Hey man, I’m not a kid!”

Yes he was. Matt knew exactly who Spiderman was. Thanks to his “super devil hearing” as you liked to call it.

It took one Spiderman visit after meeting your cousin for Matt to figure out who it was. Was he surprised? Yes, very. Did he trust Spiderman? Not in the slightest. Did he trust Peter Parker? The boy had his charm.

“Get back to Queens, Kid.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m looking out for someone.” Spiderman said sternly. “So I'm just gonna hang out for 15 more minutes then I'll leave, promise!”

Matt sighed loudly before nodding. “You have 15 minutes. Then get out of my part of town.” With that, he disappeared into the smoke.

Weird dude. Peter thought. He didn’t normally don his webslinger outfit in Hell’s Kitchen, but he figured he would patrol before having dinner with his favorite cousin.

He still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched though. Deciding it was time to head to your place, he swung to the top of your building and changed into his streetwear.

Peter rushes down the stairs to your floor and enters your hallway. Stopping dead in his tracks, he sees a familiar figure standing next to your door. It was Matt, dressed in what seemed to be his work attire.

“Hey Matt!” Peter called out and ran down the hall. He saw the older man turn to him with a frown on his face.

“We need to talk.” He said simply, causing Peter to stumble a bit.

“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

“I know who you are, Peter Parker.” The gruff voice replies. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”

“Huh?”

Peter felt his heart stop at Matt's words. He had always been cautious about revealing his identity to anyone outside of his close circle, and the fact that Matt, his cousin’s fiancé, knew his secret was unsettling.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Peter tried to play it cool. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Matt. I'm just a regular high school student."

Matt's expression remained impassive, his blind eyes seemingly staring right through Peter. "Don't insult my intelligence, kid. I can hear the timber of your voice clear as day.”

The teen realized that there was no point in denying it any longer. He nodded slowly,

"Okay, fine. You caught me. I'm Spider-Man."

Matt nodded in acknowledgment before speaking again. "You need to tell your cousin.”

“What? No way!”

“You never know, they might be more accepting of it than most people.”

“I can’t! I can’t, not now, not ever.”

Matt sighs, “Do it, or I will.”

“No! Wait, please!” Peter grabs Matt’s wrist. “Does she know about you?”

“Of course.”

Peter stands back for a moment, thinking, Matt’s words echoing. He’s brought back to reality as you nudge his arm.

“Peter, what’s going on?” You push gently. “Are you alright?”

He stands quickly. “I think I have to go!”

“What?”

“Yeah, Like tons of homework and band practice.”

“It's Saturday at 8pm.”

Matt stands suddenly, “Wait.”

You and Peter turn to look at Matt as he gets up.

“He’s upset because of me.” He confesses, “I may have run into him earlier while coming back home from…work.”

Peter shifts uncomfortably as you turn to look at him.

“You know about…”

“Yes.” He starts, “but…I…”

He trails off and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“I have a secret too.” He continues. “I did see Matt…but only because I was also ‘working’”

He lowers his head and you nod in understanding. “So you too?…”

The younger man nods and looks up at you, “I’m Spider-Man.”

You stand there gawking at Peter for a moment before turning to Matt. He stood quietly as you and Peter had this interaction.

“Matt…did you?…”

“No.” he says roughly before you turn back to Peter.

“Does Aunt May know?”

“No! At least, not yet…”

As you stood there, trying to wrap your head around the situation, Peter glanced nervously between you and Matt. Your fiance’s presence beside you was a grounding force as you processed this new reality. You glance at Peter and you can see the fear in his eyes. The uncertainty of how you would respond to his truth was evident. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward and enveloped Peter in a tight hug.

"I'm proud of you, Peter," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "I can't imagine the weight you've been carrying on your shoulders all this time."

Peter was taken aback by your response, his eyes widening in surprise. Slowly, he returned the hug, feeling a wave of relief wash over him at your acceptance.

“I just… I was scared how you would react, and I don’t want to put you in danger.” Peter mumbled, his voice muffled by the embrace.

You pulled back slightly to look into Peter's eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. "You're family, Peter. And family supports each other no matter what.”

Matt stepped forward, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder. “I told you she would be understanding.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

After dinner, you all washed the kitchen and sent Peter home with leftovers. When you and Matt were finally alone and settled in bed you finally said, “I knew this whole time.”

You see Matt’s lips form into a smile, “Heard us through the door?”

A small laugh escapes your lips.

“Yeah, you both are really loud for stealth heroes.”

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#matt murdock #peter parker #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #songfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #matt murdock fluff

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nevarrhoe · 1 month ago

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mea culpa (m.m) - 4

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut !! p in v, she/her pronouns used for reader

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any minors caught interacting will be blocked and reported

What was meant to be one night with Matt Murdock quickly turned into two, and then three, and then four. And then it was a week, and before you knew it, an entire month had passed. Twenty-eight days of nothing but bliss and what Matt was sure was the closest thing he had ever experienced to heaven. It was like you existed in a bubble: just you and him, locked away in his apartment, eating Chinese or fucking on every viable surface. It was nirvana in a way you had never thought existed.

He was everything you needed, in every sense: grounding and warm in conversation, with a sharp wit and dry humour. He also made you feel things you hadn’t thought possible. You figured that was the difference between the college boys you used to fuck around with, compared to a weathered man in his thirties. That fact had worried you at first - the age difference, the class difference, the everything difference - but none of it mattered when you were together. You and Matt matched each other in a weird way.

He’d spent his entire life searching for the next thing: the next case, the next bad guy to take down, the next adventure. When he was with you, he felt satisfied. There was no scratch to itch. No thirst to find something greater. He was content.

And for you, your focus was always pissing off your father. Matthew was just old enough and just enough of a good man and a good lawyer to do that. Not that you ever planned on your old man finding out about your relationship, but he provided an opportunity that felt just sexy enough to fulfil your rebellious side.

Maybe it was more than that. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to give it too much thought. Thinking ruined everything.

“Good morning.”

Matt woke you as usual; strong arms wrapped around your waist and coarse hands roaming over your stomach. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck and pulled you towards him. It was clear what his intentions were - the same as they had been last night and every night before that.

“Morning,” you rolled over and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I would love to stay, Matthew, but my dad needs me in the courthouse at nine.”

He let out a low grumble. “I didn’t realise that you worked for him.”

“I don’t,” you grinned at his expression. “But in order for him to keep paying off my credit card, I gotta run a few errands for him every now and then. That way, I don’t have to work and…” you leant in a little closer, pressing a kiss to his ear. “You get me all to yourself, all the time.”

“Okay, yeah,” Matt huffed, pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. “I can deal with that.”

“Good,” you smiled. “So you’ll let me go?”

“What choice do I have?”

“None,” you replied.

Rolling out of bed, you scooped up the clothes that had been discarded the night before. Matt had taken you to Josie’s, and then you’d stumbled back here and resumed your usual activities. It was rare that you went out to drink in public; anywhere past Midtown was out of the question because of your friends, and Josie’s because of his. Last night, however, Foggy and Karen had both been working late so you’d had the chance to hang out there for a few hours without being seen.

You shoved your blouse into your bag and picked up a shirt of Matt’s, pulling it over your head. He didn’t protest, instead laid back in bed with his arms folded behind his head as you pitter-pattered about. It was nice to listen to.

“I’ll see you later,” you softly pushed back some of his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Things had never been this intimate in the beginning. The first few times you’d stayed over, there was no hanging about in the morning. You would normally just up and leave - sometimes before Matt had even woken up. Then, you’d started staying for coffee, and then breakfast, and now…you never left without saying goodbye. It felt wrong.

“Or,” Matt grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back into bed. “You could just stay.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, purposefully centring your core on top of - as it was often so eloquently put - his morning wood. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, tangling your hand in his hair. It felt impossible to get enough of him. Every time you thought he’d given it his all, he gave more. That had been why you’d kept coming back - at first, at least.

“Matthew,” you grumbled. “I can’t. I have to go, I have to shower before I get to my dad’s office-”

“- shower here,” he cut you off, lips momentarily straying from your neck. “Wear my clothes. I’m sure I have a suit that will fit you.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Because that won’t be a dead giveaway, will it?”

Matt paused, juniper eyes seemingly finding yours for just a split second. It was a tense subject -you and him, and…well, everyone else. Your relationship would be a little more than just frowned upon. You’d probably get a bollocking from your dad and maybe a limit on your credit card but it was more than that for him. His entire career would be blown up.

“I wish…” Matt spoke, but then stopped.

“What is it, Matt?” you asked.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide,” he murmured.

That was the first time he’d ever said anything that implied your relationship was more than just a fuck: if you were just sleeping around, what was there to hide? Obviously, you hung out at his apartment but what if he wanted…more. Like dinner, and dates, and things that normal couples did. All things that were elements of a relationship built on something other than mere craving.

“Yeah,” you softly sighed. “I mean…what we can do? Sneaking around might get old but I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, it’s alright for now,” Matt replied.

For now.

–

You made it to the courtroom just after 9AM.

The weather was warm that day, so you’d opted for a little black dress (Gucci, of course) and some black heels (Chanel, stolen from your mother). All eyes were on you as soon as you entered the courtroom: that was natural, given your relation to the District Attorney, but also because you were the nicest thing to look at in a ten-mile radius. There was nothing but old men, stretched out down the corridor with their brief-cases and creepy smiles.

And then, hanging out by the vending machines, was Matt Murdock. He dared not acknowledge your presence but even just seeing him made you feel better.

“Darling!”

“Dad,” you spun around on your heel. “Good morning.”

“You’re late,” your father replied. “Where have you been? You’re late.”

“It’s 9:03.”

“Traffic,” you shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m here at all so I suggest you do not talk down to me-”

“- don’t get mouthy,” he cut you off. “Not here.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “What do you want me doing?”

He shoved a pile of folders into your hand with a fake smile. “I need you to look at the alibis for the Thomspon case. There are holes everywhere and it’s well below my pay grade to find them.”

“Holes?” you frowned.

“Yes. Holes. The defendant’s alibi is about as reliable as you after a few martinis,” he explained. “You have a law degree. I’m sure you can figure it out, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you muttered.

“Take them to my office,” he said. “One of Thompson’s attorneys will be around this afternoon to come and collect them. Tread lightly with them. They haven’t been happy with me since they realised I’ve basically got this one in the bag.”

“Another unfair win for the DA?” you innocently asked.

“A very fair win,” your father shot back. “I’m surprised they’re letting him go to court at all with the lack of evidence that they have. It’s not going to be a good day when they lose.”

Your father’s office was situated at the back of the courthouse. The man had overhauled as much as he could without the city kicking up a fuss about it being a protected landmark. The walls had been stripped and painted white, and all the furniture replaced with black leather chairs and glass desks. There was no art - no books, no pictures, nothing. He’d spent millions on it and it was somehow still alarmingly more boring than the grey rooms the attorneys, defendants and witnesses had to sit in down the hall.

That was telling, wasn’t it? Maybe your dad wasn’t in charge of funding for every last room in this place but hell. He didn’t exactly look out for the little guys. It was a wonder he kept getting voted back in. That was probably another matter of money.

Your task made for a very boring morning in a very boring place. There were hundreds and hundreds of papers to look through; testaments from witnesses, alibis from the defendant, CCTV footage that had him confirmed in what felt like twenty places at once. You didn’t have much time to go through them either, not when his attorneys were due to collect the evidence at midday.

“There’s no fucking case here at all,” you quietly muttered to yourself. Your dad had been right - for once. His lawyers were doing him dirty by letting him go to trial with every piece of evidence pointing against him.

And it wasn’t until you got to the last page that you saw his lawyer’s signature and realised who exactly those lawyers were: an M.Murdock and F. Nelson.

Fuck.

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced up at the clock: 11:58. Either Matt or Foggy would be here any second to collect the files, and you could only hope it wasn’t the one you’d been sleeping with for the last month. That would have been an awkward conversation.

But fate was a bitch, right? And you knew the second that you heard the tapping of a cane that Matt was right outside your door.

He knocked twice. Matt always knocked twice.

You stood up, brushing off your skirt and pulling open the door. “Mr Murdock - please, come in.”

Matt had you pushed up against the door the second it was closed, large hands gripping your waist and lips attacking your neck. Normally, you would have been completely there for it - there was an expensive sofa that you could fuck on right there. It was just that your mind was a little…preoccupied. And he picked up on it right away.

“Hey,” Matt frowned, hand ghosting over your cheek. “What’s up?”

“It’s uh…” you pulled back and pushed his hands off of you, moving to lean against the desk.

“Is it the way your dad spoke to you earlier?” he asked. His face was etched with concern - and maybe a little with overprotectiveness. “Because I overheard that and I didn’t like it one bit-”

“- it’s your case, Matt,” you cut him off. “I just signed off on the evidence on behalf of my dad. We’re - I mean he’s happy to take it to court but I feel like I should tell you that it’s a guaranteed win for his office.”

Matt frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The evidence in those files isn’t going to help your client one bit,” you quietly explained. “And we have a legal duty to deliver it to the courts.”

“Thomspon is innocent.”

“You might think so but his entire defence is hearsay. The victim’s statement is pretty much bulletproof and there’s CCTV footage that places him at the crime scene,” you continued. “If you want my advice, I’d get him a plea deal and call it a day.”

Matt’s body language changed in a second. He took a step back from you, dark features etched with an entirely new type of frown that you were yet to see on him. You didn’t like it.

“Are you giving me legal advice-”

“- no!” you snapped. “I’m just trying to help you. I know you put your heart and soul into this case-”

“- and you’re about to blow it apart!” he cut you off. “Where did you even get all this?”

“This evidence was delivered to the office. I’ve signed it and I’m sending it off once you’ve signed it too. I was just trying to prewarn you.”

You’d come this far without your differences getting between you. Now, it felt like they’d hit like a bullet.

“Thomspon is an innocent man,” Matt lowly repeated. “And you’ve just assisted in providing evidence that’s going to send him to prison -”

“- why are you acting like I’ve done this on purpose?” you cut him off. “Like I said, I’m just doing my job and you’re just doing yours. It’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep?” he scoffed. “Maybe not to you. This is all just money to you and your father, isn’t it? Just a throwaway case, maybe.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not at all. I didn’t mean to get involved. I’m just the messenger, Matt-”

“- no, it’s more than that.”

Matt paused for a second - though it felt much longer. He seemed angry at you but you were pissed at him. Not only for kicking off at you, but for putting you on the same level as your father when you had tried so hard not to let that happen. How many hours had he spent convincing you that you were your own person? Encouraging you to stand up for yourself?

“We’ll never see things the same way,” Matt continued. “At the end of the day, I’m me, and you’re just…you’re a spoilt little rich girl.”

You froze. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I…” he trailed off. “It was easy to ignore at first but I think this has shown me. We’re from different worlds and no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to understand-”

“- you should watch your mouth, Matthew Murdock,” you took a step towards him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I might be a spoilt little rich girl but I would much rather be that than a man who runs his fucking mouth and kicks off without even listening to what I have to say.”

“Maybe I didn’t word it the best,” he calmed down for a second, trying to gather himself. “What I meant was-”

“- oh, I know what you meant!” you laughed incredulously. “Just take the files and get the fuck out. This was never going to work anyways.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil imagines #daredevil smut #daredevil #matt murdock

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tricksh0t · 10 days ago

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★ really good girl

☾ matthew murdock x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ papi's home and he brought takeout 😎 poured like 6 hours into this hope you like it <3 (title is a reference to "I'm a really good lawyer")

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 3.10k

cw: this shit long, catholic boy swears, a little bit of talk about catholicism (why swearing bad) but not as dialogue, feminizing Matt (mostly nicknames, a thong, pretending his hole is a cunt), soft Matty as well as humor, daddy kink, missionary, creampie, lotta teasing, dacryphilia

"Oh, God, look at you, sweetheart. You're beautiful."

Matt blushes under your praise. You're talking like he's in this beautiful gown, head to toe in mother of pearl or tule, as if that imaginary gown hugs all his curves–the bounding hills of his biceps, the muscled thickness of his thighs, the fat of his pecs–or is revealing enough to leave just enough to the imagination...but no, Matt's just wearing a thong.

A women's thong, practically bursting at how hard he is, it leaves nothing covered in the front, and it does the same for the back. That's what you're looking at.

It's in a pretty pink, like ballet shoes you'd said, the pinnacle of grace. On him, it feels like the opposite, it's making him stiff. He never thought about how clenching your ass is visible from the outside until you'd pointed it out.

"Ease up, sweetheart. You look great."

"You said that already."

"Please?"

Matt arches his back some more, just for you. He tries to relax his glutes, and he's not sure if it works, but you're not complaining.

At a certain angle, you can see more than how the singular one-inch-wide fabric disappears between the perky globes of his cheeks. At a certain angle, if you sit up a bit straighter, you can see his hole.

You can see the way it gapes, how wet it looks... it's lube, but, "You're so wet for me, Matty."

Matt audibly gulps.

"Yeah, you heard me right," God, he just looks like a delicacy. "come here."

Matt remains on his hands and knees as he crawls towards you, slowly, inch by steady inch.

He knows just when to stop, right in front of you without even touching your lap. He looks up at you. His signature red glasses are gone, letting you gaze into those puppy brown eyes that despite being dysfunctional still find yours. "Good girl." You praise, cupping his cheek.

Matt doesn't often swear. It goes with his little Catholic boy thing, to put it lightly. To expand on it, however, it's ingrained in him. Maybe he does swear when he's out there being Daredevil, but according to the sparse things about Christianity you've learned, any swear is slander; and he'd never dare to slight you.

Yet, a shiver goes down his spine, shakes his body, and makes him say, "Fuck, Daddy."

"Why's a pretty girl like you using curses, hm?" You hum, and the worst thing of all (for Matt) is that it's a genuine question.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Daddy–" His voice is on the verge of a whine, it's pathetic.

"Oh, sweetie, don't be." Your voice is soft, genuine. He can hear the smile in it. "Daddy was just asking you a question. Go ahead, try again for me, okay?"

Matt nods his head just slightly. "It's you, Daddy." He catches himself, catches his tongue, quickly. "I don't mean to blame you, D-Daddy, sir. It's just, you make me feel so good."

"Do I, baby?" Matt hums a yes. You continue, "I haven't even touched you yet, sweetheart...apart from your cheek, that is, but I haven't kissed you neither."

"It's what you say to me." Matt says in a little whisper, in a lack of confidence. He's afraid. It's adorable.

"Can you say that again?" You ask, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Couldn't quite hear you."

"Daddy, please." He breathes out, knowing you did.

"Didn't hear you." You repeat, relentless, ungiving, stern. You haven't even called him anything: darling, sweetheart, baby, good girl. Oh, he is getting absolutely railed tonight.

"It's what you say to me." Matt repeats. In fact, he doubles down, pushing past your hand to lay his head on your thigh. "When you call me "baby girl" or "good girl", Daddy, it drives me nuts."

"Good girl." You praise, it drives a shiver through his spine, and you follow it with a finger. "Would you look at that. It really is what I say."

The tracing of his spine, the trail your finger leaves, makes him arch his back just that bit more. You can reach just far enough to cup one of his asscheeks. It lacks precision, but makes Matty moan all the same. You dare to dig a finger below the waistband of the thong, watching it go entirely taut around the rest of him, squeeze his hips just that tiny bit more. You don't even have to pull the fabric away, just slip your finger out of its confines, to hear it snap against his skin. That makes Matty moan too.

He moans so nicely you just want to hear more. "Can you get on your back, sweetheart?"

"I wanna...blow you, Daddy." Matt admits shyly instead, head inching closer and breaths hitting the shape of your clothed cock. He wants it, and you know it.

"Another time." You promise, pulling back, "Now, go on."

Matt does as you wish, because he's yours; and you're his Daddy, and he really really loves being a good girl.

He lays down on his back and he spreads his legs wide open, you don't even have to tell him to. He's obedient like that, always a pleaser. You could never ask for more.

"Hips up, please? Thank you, sweetheart." You prop a pillow under his ass to prepare.

Just the thought of it, of how considerate you are, has Matt leaking. You don't address his hard cock, your eyes don't even glaze over it. It has a certain shame burning through his chest, but at the same time, in the pit of his stomach, there's excitement.

"Thank you." Matt mutters.

"Thank you, who?"

He blushes, "Thank you, Daddy."

"Hands on–" You watch as Matt holds the underside of his knees and pushes his legs up for you, before you can even ask. "Good girl."

He's all trained for you. "Mm, thank you, Daddy."

"Let's get this thing off you, shall we, sweetheart?" Matt nods his head subtly, though the question was rhetorical. You begin to pull off the thong. You'll mourn its pretty pink loss, but first you'll watch the way it presses against the fat of his thighs and makes it spill over like a garter. By the end of it, you take it off one of his ankles but leave it on the other, and watch it slide down.

It's crude; like you've picked him up off the side of the road for a quick fuck.

Nevermind that. "Look at you, all wet and leaking for me." Matt's asshole clenches and unclenches around nothing in anticipation. It's pretty and pink, not quite ballerina but more sultry mauve, and puckered. The only displeasing part about it is that it can still close fully.

You press your thumb against one edge and watch it open, awaiting. "God, if you could only see yourself, baby girl."

"Ple-Please, Daddy."

You look at him. You look at the way his eyes aren't quite focused, but still on you, glassy. Glassy. Pleading, begging, you don't even know if he's doing it intentionally.

Matt Murdock wants you. His body wants you. Daredevil is all trained instincts, Matthew is too.

"I know. I'm getting there." You promise, hovering over him, holding his cheek, staring. Gosh. "Just...you're beautiful."

You press your thumb into him eventually. Your eyes are preoccupied, but you can still feel the way his hole sucks your finger right in. He clenches around it, and you can feel that too.

It's no cunt, but it'll still take you all the way. You shudder at the thought of it.

Matty does too. His toes are already curling. The pretty ballerina pink thong still hangs around his knee, wet at the very little fabric in front. Wet and drying, you can smell it, and you're sure he can too. He's probably ashamed—but to you, it's all the same: evidence of his arousal, the anticipation.

"Pl-Please." He stutters. He really can't wait, can he?

"Puh-lease." You taunt almost immediately. It was instinct, your insatiable, quick wit—you swear.

"Daddy..."

"Sorry, baby." You chuckle, and despite the apology, you continue. Driving your thumb in and out of him is consolation enough. "You know, I really think you'd look rather pretty in a skirt, or lingerie. A bath robe, too, the frilly ones...maybe I just want to see something wrapped around your pretty little waist. You know, it's a fight every day not to pick you up by it and prance you around like a prize: the new, hot commodity."

...

"Am I making you blush?"

Matty is about to snap back with a little something when suddenly your breaths ghost over his hole. It makes him jump. His senses are already going haywire, with the cold air around him and the bursting anticipation. You're probably one of the only people that can startle him.

Your thumb is out, but he won't complain, not when you press a kiss to his hole.

"Such a pretty pink." You hum before diving in, pressing increasingly open-mouthed kisses before beginning to lick and suckle. You don't speak the abcs into it, you haven't the luxury of surface area for that, but it still has his toes–and ignored cock–twitching.

Matt moans. He melts further into the mattress, arches his back a certain way that makes his rear press into you.

You laugh into it, and Matty can feel the reverberations of it in his body, in the air, in his ear drums. It's a pleasant sound, has his heart beating fast...or maybe it's your tongue.

"Oh, Daddy..." He moans richly. Rich like a perfect steak sauce, a good, long taste; a good long moan. Fucking exquisite.

But it's no scream.

You might just know a remedy for that though. "You want Daddy's cock, baby girl?"

You don't have to tell him twice. "Yes–" He's breathless already, and yet he cannot leave you unanswered, even though he'll have to chase his breaths, "Yes, please, Daddy. I really need it."

"How badly?" You part from his pretty cunt with a kiss to prepare, lube up and all, leaving him to answer.

He does so without any complaints at all, fingers twitching in their hold on his knees with excitement, "Really badly, sir, Daddy."

"Can you be a bit more descriptive, sweetie?"

He can hear you lubing up your cock for sure, the schlk schlk of it. It has his cock twitching too. "I've been waiting so long, Daddy. It's been too long since you last fucked me, already so long since you even prepped me. I...I miss it. Please."

"Good girl. Wrap those legs around me?" Not even a second later, "Good girl."

Matt's breath hitches when you drag your length against his hole, let its tapered edge catch along his rim. He's holding his breath, and it's adorable.

You pause, suddenly, "What was it you said about missing my cock?"

"Please." Matty breathes out, exasperated.

"Okay, okay, alright." You chuckle, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't even realize that his nails are digging into your bag when you begin pushing in. It's a slow process, but it does nothing against the fact that you're stretching him out. Your fingers just cannot compare. It's just so...so goddamn wet; and for a moment, he can imagine that it's his.

Matt can imagine that he's all wet for you, pussy just sooo excited and warmed up in anticipation. He moans at both things, that thought and that delicious stretch, and the way your pelvis feels pressed up against his ass.

You wince once you've all bottomed out and only then does Matt realize that he's dug his nails so far down your back.

"I'm sorry, Daddy." He's quick to apologize, pads of his fingers replacing his nails, soothing over the trail they've left.

"It's okay, baby." You breathe out, slow, "Can hardly feel it, actually. The feeling of you? So much more powerful."

Matt gasps when your hand finds his happy trail and your fingers play with the hairs. It's almost like you're playing with his clit...and then moving? Fucking into him?

Like a koala, Matt clings to you: arms around your neck and legs around your waist. He wants—no, needs to feel you. Every single inch of you.

Sweaty and hot as it is, he needs to hold you, because he loves you, loves this. Loves to feel your tender skin below his palms, the flesh of you between his legs, your muscles at work, and your cock driving into him, stretching him, keeping him full. It's the gentleness in it, the absolute love he feels radiating from you.

It's not a sixth sense. It's the fact that your breaths are calm and that your grip on him is soft and yet your heart is beating so terribly fast. Matt doesn't sense emotions, but he can sense this.

So again, he fucking loves it, and it's no slander.

"Want it a little harder, baby?"

"Yes." He answers immediately, through a choked gasp, "Yes, please."

"Sure thing." A kiss to the top of his head, and Matt smiles.

He starts to hold on a little harder when you speed up. The bed rocks underneath your movements, and Matt is struggling to keep up. His palm cups the side of your neck, thumb ghosting over the front, looking for a pulse, looking for something grounding. It doesn't help, even when he finds it.

But it's just instinct. Matt doesn't mind getting lost in a sea of senses, not with you.

"Aw, fu–" The curse is on the cusp of his tongue. He doesn't give it the time of day, though only because he moans again. "Ah!"

And again, "Ouhh."

Normally, Matt has no trouble keeping quiet, but he cannot keep up with your thrusts. Harsh once, then prolonged and awfully loving, as if an apology.

He cannot think.

And then your voice penetrates through it all. "Good girl. Taking me so well, aren't you?"

Oh, you really are driving him nuts.

"Huh, sweetheart? Think you can answer that for me?" Someway, somehow, you break from his strong just enough to look at his face. His eyebrows are screwed up and his eyes are closed, it's adorable.

"Yeah! Yes, yes, yes, sir." He spews uncontrollably. It only takes the smallest display of disappointment, the click of his tongue, for him to correct his mistake. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl. You look so pretty, you know?" You fiddle with the thong, pulling it back and letting it slap against his thigh. "Just for me?"

"Just foryou." Matt slurs. He slurs, because it's all too much. It's all you, you, you, you and that cock of yours. "'S so good, Daddy."

Oh, he's lost his mind. It's all too much—he can hear the creaking of the bed, smell the lube and all that he's leaking, feel a wetness glass over his eyes, and taste the growing amount of mucus in the back of his throat...

Not long after, there's a hiccup.

"Oh, you're crying, baby, am I that good?"

"Y-Yeah!" Matt cries.

Isn't he a sweetheart? So overwhelmed by all that you're giving him, and so thankful for it too...though not explicitly, not for a little while. "Matty, baby, where are your manners?"

"Thank you!" He gasps, thighs squeezing tighter around you. Aside from sharp gasps, he can't even speak. "Th...shi–shoot! Th-Thank you, Daddy."

It's adorable just how much he's avoiding swearing.

"No, thank you, sweetheart." The kiss you place to his throat has his next moan come out choked; and then you're kissing up his skin, past his pulse point, and up to his ear. "You're so damn fuckable, baby girl. Cunt open, just so wide for me. Bet you won't even be able to close after this."

Let alone walk. You chuckle into his ear, baritone and deep and so attractive somehow that it has Matt's eyes rolling back on pure instinct.

"Please."

"Please what?" You pull back suddenly and Matt's hold around your neck breaks. His hands fall onto the mattress, where they immediately grip. His knuckles go white. "Hm?"

"Go–shi..." Matt sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, it comes in as a wince. "C-Can't, Daddy."

"Can't what? Can't speak?" He nods, frantically. You decide to take pity on him. "Alright, I'll play your little guessing game. You want me to fuck you?"

No, too easy. Though he nods anyway. "Want me to kiss you?"

He nods, and you peck him on the lips, but both gestures are tiny. He's still unsatisfied. There's no skirting around what he wants. "You want me to leave you gaping, don't you, sweet girl?"

"Yes!" Matt cries out.

Well...who are you to deny your baby girl?

You redouble your efforts; faster, harder, more precise, even, right where he wants it: right into his prostate.

His tears begin streaming down your face, even jerking around with each harsh thrust that has him being drilled into the mattress. The pretty pink thong around his leg jumps up and down his calf too.

Even his legs fall from your waist, unable to do anything except jolt around and take you. Instinctively, they close around you; but you take Matt's knee and push it against the mattress, keeping him open. It makes Matt yelp.

"Please!" Matt moans. For what, he's not even sure. "Fuck, Daddy!"

He has all he wants right here.

A steady "uh, uh, uh" falls from his lips, head tilted up to the sky. Between the crying and the chanting, he almost looks as if in prayer, angelical.

He looks so fucking beautiful. Oh, you love ruining him, love to see the way those tears slide down his cheek, and the slobber and spit leaking from the corner of his lips, and his weeping, hard, red dick.

Maybe that's what he's begging for.

You hook one of his knees around your hip, leave it there, and then wrap a hand around his cock.

"Oh, Daddy! Yes!" Matt screams. His hands are on you again, gripping hard at your shoulders. He spews more words, gratitude, nonsensical things.

He keeps spewing, keeps sobbing and crying, as you fuck him harder and harder, and "Oh!"

He screams again, when he finally cums. Not not "yes", not an obscenity, but Daddy; and then softer as you fill him up with your own spend, in a pant: your name.

When you pull out, he's not just gaping. He's leaking too. "Try clenching for me, baby?" You ask, soothing your palms over his thighs just one last time.

Matty does as you ask, and he clenches around air. Air. His hole cannot fully close.

"Good girl."

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