#matt murdock x fem!reader fluff

[peterman-spideyparker]

Stolen Glances (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been on a writing hiatus after feeling uninspired after a long while, and I think it's kind of helped reset my creative juices. I'm entering my busy season at work, so I don't know how much time I'll have for writing in the future, but I'm back to feeling more like myself. I figured one of the best ways to return to writing was with some College Matt! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to go out with her to a bar to celebrate the start of spring break, and to your surprise, the night takes an unexpected turn for the better when your friend calls over two people she knows from her law classes—one of whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on.

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, reader nickname (not-name specific) drinking, kissing, getting caught in the rain, smut (oral-f!receiving, Matt's mouth being a menace, praise kink, Matt being a lil' tiny touch possessive, Matt lightly biting at Reader's shoulder, p in v protected sex, aftercare)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, OFCs

Word Count: 6,084

“Stop staring,” Amy says as she sips her drink. 

“I’m not,” you murmur as you roll your beer bottle absentmindedly on the sticky bar counter of Josie’s. How Amy even got you out tonight is beyond you. You don’t go to bars. You’re not even a big fan of going out in general. But tonight, you caved, and followed her in the rain to a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen for cheep beer, gossip, and people watching. And it’s people watching that lead your eyes to land on one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. Matt Murdock—enter frantically smitten swoon here. He’s a law student with a voice like honey, a smile that could light up a room, and the best ass in the entire world.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to stumble into the one that he was in.

“You are,” Amy counters. 

“Not.”

“Are.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. “Glancing. Let me have this.”

“He’s single, you know. Broke up with the girl he was dating all last year.”

“Which means he’s not looking for anyone.”

“Or he rebounds fast and wants to get under someone. Er, have someone get under him. Hell, I don’t know what he’s in to.”

“Ames.”

“What? I’m just speculating. Just like you are ogling him.”

“Again, not ogling. Glancing. Besides, he’s way out of my league. And you know what? This, right here, is a perfect situation for me—it’s a crowded bar, he’s blind, no one here knows me or cares about me and won’t think twice of me looking in that direction. This is the only time I can pine after someone and not get flustered and weird if he looks in my direction or watch Cindy from my Brontë’s class try to show off her cleavage to get his attention. And she totally would, event to the one guy that literally can’t see it. Which brings me back exactly to my point—he can’t see us here or the undoubtedly big heart shapes my eyes are in.”

“What if his friend does?”

“He has his back to us, he won’t—.”

“FOGGY!”

“You are a major asshole, you know that?” you hiss as you whip your head around to scowl at her.

“Well, now, you can glance up close, see the finer details. Maybe accidentally touch his big arms?” she says with an innocent smile and delightfully raised eyebrows. “Or something else big.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Besides, they’re my friends. You survive Professor Murphy’s class together, you’re blood brothers for life—Hey, Fog! Murdock!”

“I didn’t know you guys came to Josie’s,” Foggy smiles as they get close enough to where the two of you sit. “If I had, I would’ve invited you to some of our post-test outings.”

“Well, Kitty here is a lightweight, so it’s not often I get to bring her to bars. I think I finally convinced her because it’s the Friday before spring break and she doesn’t have to do homework right this moment,” Amy hums. She so knows what she is doing, and you don’t know if you should kick her in the shins or be eternally grateful for how Matt turns his head to you next. 

“Kitty?” Matt smiles, and it makes your cheeks burn. He wets his lips lightly as he turns his body toward you, and you can’t help but duck your gaze and shrink in on yourself a bit. 

“An unfortunate nickname that has followed me since I was four and can’t seem to shake,” you explain. “Now that I’m not four, (Y/N) just fine.”

“It’s cute, though. Maybe you’ll tell me the story.”

Fuck, why’d he have to say it like that? You’d tell him absolutely anything he’d want if he spoke to you like that again.

“Maybe,” you breathe. “Maybe not.”

The smile he flashes you is soft, dreamy, and alluring. “Someday it is, then.”

“Why don’t you two take a seat with us?” Amy asks as she swallows the last of her drink. “Have a few rounds with us. I mean, you guys know me, but let’s include (Y/N) into the fold. Probably good that you two legal goobers befriend an English major. Help you guys avoid being duped in a contract or something because of semantics or syntax or something.”

“Offense,” Foggy scoffs.

“(Y/N)’s worst is still better than your best, and you know it.”

“Down, Ames,” you chuckle, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said about being nice?”

“Amy? Nice?” Matt smirks. “I’m afraid we haven’t earned that privilege.”

“So, how long have you known Amy?” Foggy asks as he waves Josie over for another round. 

“Too long,” you chuckle, earning you a playful kick under the bar.

“Harsh,” Matt hums.

“For someone who’s basically my sister? Nah. We’ve been friends since we could toddle around,” Amy shrugs. “You two should understand that one—I mean, roommates for two years and essentially an identical course load? You’re as good as brothers.”

“Very true,” Foggy smiles as he opens his next beer. “I mean, sure, Matt got all the good looks, but I have the boyish wit and knack for sarcastic comments.”

“Seems like a pretty perfect pairing to me,” you add. 

Foggy claps Matt’s back with a big smile. “See that, pal? Even the people that just meet us can see we’re a perfect match! Murdock and Nelson, taking New York City law by storm! Rolling in the money, the biggest of the bigs wanting us on retainer!”

“A real life Harvey Spector and Mike Ross,” Amy says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Take it from a blind man, Nelson and Murdock has a better ring to it,” Matt hums as he sips his beer. “And while money is nice, there’s still something really nice about saving the world.“

“Matty the Martyr,” he sighs. “You know, (Y/N), my parents wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Fog, please, not the butcher story!” Matt begs. 

“Yeah, please,” Amy seconds. “(Y/N) doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Ugh, tough crowd tonight,” he sighs. “You’ll hear about it, (Y/N) . . . someday.”

“Mildly ominous. Definitely non-threatening,” you grin before everyone starts to laugh. “So, what brings you guys out? Is this a post-test outing?”

“Nah, just a Friday night,” Matt smiles. 

“Well,” Amy says, holding up her new drink. “To just a Friday night.”

You all clink the necks of the bottles together before you drink, chatting briefly before Amy playfully insults Foggy’s pool playing skills. The two of them down their drinks before they make their way to the pool table to prove one another wrong.

“I don’t know how those two are friends, sometimes,” Matt chuckles. 

“Well, Amy has three brothers,” you hum. “She loves pushing people’s buttons like that.”

“And Foggy doesn’t back down from challenges like that. Although, I agree that Amy could wipe the floor with Fog at pool.”

You laugh, biting your lip from laughing too loud in the bar. “I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Eh,” he squeaks. “I think he knows where I stand on his pool skills. I mean, a blind guy can beat him.”

You feel your face grow hot with the attention he’s giving you, but it’s all very welcome as you both begin to chat about whatever comes to your minds. For how pretty he is and how flustered you get talking into to people you find attractive, conversation comes so easily with Matt. You feel like you could tell him anything. But that’s the dangerous thing—there’s no way this could work, as a friend or for whatever your brain could dream up. He’s too . . . magnetic. You’d misread something, and in the end, you’d be the one getting hurt. Besides, if you’ve learned anything from Amy, part of being an attorney is learning how to charm the pants off of whomever you’re talking to. And unfortunately for you, you’re just the girl at the bar he’s trying to schmooze only to never see again.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, trying to catch your attention.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping out of it. 

His face is soft, but definitely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter. “I was just thinking of something.” 

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you want to talk about it, but a small pang in your chest makes you want to run away and hide in a corner. 

“I don’t think pool is supposed to take that long,” you say, changing the subject and craning your neck around the bar to try and spot your friends. “I have absolutely no idea where Amy went. It looks like Foggy’s gone, too.”

Matt lets out a small, breathy laugh with a knowing grin.

“Do you want to share the joke with the class?”

“Fog’s been on my case lately about meeting new people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he conspired with Amy.”

“You know, I’d say that’s impossible, but Amy is always trying to set me up and calling me Hermit Homebody.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like 'Kitty'.”

“It’s more alliterative, though.”

“So,” he hums, turning his body toward yours. “What’s the story behind Kitty?”

“You’re gonna judge.”

He holds out his pinky to you. “No judgement. Promise.”

You lick your lips before you move your hand to lock your pinky with his. 

“I really loved Hello Kitty when I was little. I basically wanted to be Hello Kitty. Like, absolutely obsessed—alarm clock, bedsheets, plushies, the whole shebang. I even dressed like Hello Kitty. Yellow shirt, blue overalls or an overall dress, and a red bow in my hair, and I had Hello Kitty socks to wear with my sneakers or little Mary Jane’s. It made getting dressed easy, but it definitely annoyed my mom after a bit.”

“That’s really cute.”

“It’s really not,” you chuckle.

“It is, trust me. And, if it makes you feel any better, a lot of free public domain braille texts were legal documents; after the accident that blinded me, that’s all my dad could really get me between hospital bills, trauma therapy and recovery, and our regular bills. I read a lot of Frederick Douglas while he did boxing practice. Between reading those and my dad’s hope for me to get a good job and use my brain instead of my fists, that’s what drove me to be a lawyer. I’m not sure I would have applied to law school if not for that.”

“Wow. That’s . . . amazing. Honestly.”

His brows furrow slightly as he tilts his head down slightly. “I like to think that I’m making him proud. But I’m afraid that I’ll end up letting him down eventually. He . . . He gave me so much, he gave up so much. For me.”

You place your hand on his that’s resting atop of the bar, giving it a squeeze. “The fact that you know the extent of your dad’s sacrifices and you’re worried about letting him down means that you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.”

Matt nods and you see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard. You could swear that you see a tear roll down his cheek, but you’re distracted when he turns his hand over to hold onto yours better, lacing his fingers in yours. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking a deep breath. “Hearing that . . . it means a lot.”

“It’s just the truth as I see it.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Matt hums as he turns his head toward you. “We could grab a bite, just walk around.”

“No ulterior motives?”

“Not unless you want me to have ulterior motives.”

You look at him, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Then no ulterior motives.”

“I’m not opposed to stopping at the soft pretzel cart that’s a few blocks over, though.”

He gives you a small smile.

“Something funny?”

“Beer and pretzels,” he hums. 

“Har har.”

“C’mon,” he says with a little jerk of his head. “Lead the way.”

Putting some money on the counter to cover your drinks, you slide off of the barstool, your hand still in Matt’s as he mimics your movement before unfurling his cane. You both walk in comfortable silence, recalling little anecdotes from your childhoods as you stroll along the route. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you laugh.

“I’m not,” he says with a big smile. “I got so much hell from the nuns for it. Father Lantom put on a little show and was a little mad about it, yeah, but the ‘talking to’ that he gave me was about the Yankees game. In fairness, I honestly did worse when I was younger—probably took years off of all of their lives. Probably still do, when they think too hard about it.”

“Gosh,” you say with another laugh. “You’re such a daredevil.”

“Hey, I’ve turned out just fine. For the most part.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. You seem pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright?” he croons. “I’ll take it. Any pointers for how I can increase my ranking, though?”

“Well, if I told you, it’d be too easy,” you smirk as you approach your destination. “Heya, Boyd.”

“Kitty!” he beams. “Long time no see! You’re usual?”

“That’d be great. School’s been busy.”

“You know she’s in Columbia?” he starts to tell Matt. “Smartest girl I know.”

“She is amazing,” Matt says, and you feel your cheeks burn hot.

“Matt’s one of my classmates,” you explain. 

“Ah, so you’re a smart one, too. Kitty here is one of a kind—don’t do anything stupid to loose this one.”

“I’ll do my best not to,” he smiles.

“D’you want anything with yours?”

“Mustard, please.”

Boyd hands Matt his pretzel, but puts his hand up when you try to pay. 

“Not tonight, Kitty,” he says. “My treat.”

“Don’t be silly, Boyd,” you counter. “You know our rule, only on birthdays.”

“Yeah, but you included me on your date. I feel real special. All warm and fuzzy like.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter when he says “date”— you appreciate that Boyd thinks you’re in the same league. 

“Please?” you try.

“Alright. But you’re getting your change back. This one, she always tries to scurry away before I can give her her change back!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape,” Matt chuckles, his hand resting on your waist, the gentle touch sending goosebumps up your spine.

“Atta boy. You know, I like this one. He ain’t that bad. Here, Kitty. Have a nice night, you two!”

“Night, Boyd!” you smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Matt adds. Once you’re out of earshot, he asks, “How come he can call you Kitty?”

“Because Boyd has known me since I was six,” I chuckle before I take another bite of my pretzel. “You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Oh, so now you’ll let me earn the chance to call you Kitty?”

“If you play your cards right.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that likes challenges.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows as if conceding to your point before taking a bite of is pretzel, licking up the mustard at the corner of his mouth. The absolutely obscene thoughts that cross your mind when he does that would even make a sinner in church blush—but also appreciate the sentiment. You finish your pretzels quickly, continue to walk aimlessly around and talk about whatever comes to your mind.

“Wow,” you hum as you look at a clock on the other side of the park we’re walking through.

“What?” he hums. 

“It’s almost three.”

“Seriously? No.” You feel Matt’s arms shift, and you watch his fingers slide over the face of his watch. “Shit. It’s almost three. I didn’t think we were talking for that long.”

“Me either. Not that I’m complaining about it.”

“Neither am I.”

“Maybe we’re just really slow walkers?”

Matt laughs. “It is a really nice night.”

There’s a comfortable silence before you speak next. “I don’t do this, normally. Go out—go out to a bar, no less—walk with guys aimlessly around the city.”

“Tell people the story of your nickname? Or bring them to meet your pretzel godfather?” he teases gently, and you chuckle softly and nod. 

“Definitely not either of those.” You take in a deep breath before you continue. “Something feels different tonight, though, and I like it. And I only started liking it when you and Foggy joined us at our table.”

“Yeah?” he says so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I like it, too.”

Your gaits slow before Matt turns into you, a relaxed, dreamy look on his face. It’s not a face you’ve seen him flash the girls on campus—the cocky, over-confident swagger that’s usually there replaced with something almost dreamy and entirely genuine. Your heart starts to race as he leans in, but you both freeze in place when the sky opens up and you get caught in a sudden downpour. You squeak and he lets out a soft grunt before Matt hand grabs yours, and you rush toward the sidewalk. You raise your hand to wave down an oncoming taxi, and as you both slide in, Matt gives his address to the cabbie. 

The ride is short, but it’s definitely better than making the trip in the pouring rain. When the cabbie pulls to the curb, Matt hands him the fare and the tip, opening the door and sliding out first, waiting for you to follow. He uses his large frame to try and shield you from the rain as you run into the lobby of his dorm, tracking in puddles into the elevator. 

“Would Foggy mind if I crash here for the night? I mean, what’s left of it,” you ask, your arms hugging yourself as you shiver in front of his door. 

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s staying with his family for the first half of break,” Matt says as he slides the key into the lock, leading you into the very nice dorm apartment. “It’s just us here.”

“Ah,” you hum softly, looking around the space. “I wish my dorm looked like this. I think I chose the wrong major.”

Matt chuckles softly as he moves about the space. “Well, each year we get better housing choices, and the ADA complaint dorms were updated a few years ago. Foggy just reaps the rewards of being my friend.”

“Well, it is very nice. Definitely decorated by boys, though.”

Matt chuckles softly, walking into what you assume is his room before coming back out in pajamas, a folded set of clothes in his extended hand. 

“Thanks,” you smile as you take the sweatshirt and sweatpants out of his hands.

“Can’t have you be chilly,” he hums. “Let’s face it—Amy would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

“You, Foggy, and then me. In that order,” you laugh. “You know, I honestly thought it was done raining for the night.”

“I’m just glad we caught a cab. And that you let me pay.”

“Well, you gave them the address to your dorm. Seemed right that you foot the bill.”

Matt chuckles as you turn to side off your wet clothes and put on his fluffy sweater and sweats. Yes, it feels a little odd to change in front of him, but it’s not like he can see you in your underwear, and you need to get these wet clothes off. And if tonight has taught you anything, Matt is someone you feel comfortable and safe around.

“Let’s hope these dry by the morning,” you say, folding your soaked clothes and putting them over the stool in the kitchen area. 

“You can keep them as long as you need. Something tells me I’ll get them back eventually.”

You blush deeply. “In a timely manner. Promise.”

“I’m not gonna force you out when the sun comes up, you know,” Matt continues. “We can go down and throw your clothes into the dryer in the morning. Maybe go grab breakfast after they’re out.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Want to go to the living room?”

“No ulterior motives?” you smirk. 

He laughs, and you swear you just made him to blush. “No. Not unless you want there to be,” he responds. 

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to some.”

Matt slides off his glasses, placing them on the kitchen table. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight coming through the window, taking a half step forward and placing his hands on your waist. You lean in to help close the space between your bodies, and when his lips finally meet yours, you feel your heart skip a beat as electricity shoots through your veins. You slide your hands up his body to cradle is face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss is passionate, tender, and everything that a kiss should be. When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dizzy in all the best ways. His forehead rests on yours, and you desperately wish he’d lean in for another kiss. 

“Are those acceptable motives?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“Mm,” you hum. “Very.”

He smiles, leaning in for another kiss, the force of the embrace knocking the back of your legs against the sofa. You pull him into you, knocking the pair of you down on the couch, his body crushing yours in the most glorious of ways for a moment until he can position himself better on the furniture. His hands have a firm grip on your body, sending wave after wave of chills up your spine as you chase his lips for more kisses. One of his large hands cradles the back of your head, holding you closer so he can gain better access to the kiss, and you realize his glasses aren’t perched on his face anymore. You don’t even know when he would’ve have a chance to take them off. But do you really care? 

No. No you don’t.

As you make out, Matt slides you onto his lap, giving you a bit more leverage as you embrace. You lips mirror one another’s, curving up into smiles. You take in a sharp breath as you feel his hands slide under the sweater and up your back, the simple action sending goosebumps up your spine. You moan into the embrace and lean forward to deepen it, accidentally nipping his lower lip between yours. It elicits a strong response from Matt, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave little bruises as souvenirs before moving up to tug at the hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers should have their own insurance policy, because wherever they trace on your body feels like a million dollars—the warmth, the strength, the grip—goes straight to the apex of your thighs. Firm, relaxing, and downright sinful.

You pull back from the kiss, Matt’s swollen lips chasing yours as you lean away, turning your head to yawn. 

“Am I putting you to sleep, sweetheart?” he smirks, softly kissing your neck before moving so his face points toward yours. 

“You’re definitely relaxing me, that’s for sure,” you tell him as you look back at his face. “It’s just been a really long week.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“You stop, and I’m telling Amy and Foggy.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.”

With more smiles, you lean back into the kiss. Matt’s grip is firm on your waist before sliding his hands down and over the globes of your ass, moving to your upper thighs before lifting you up. You’re too focused on his lips to try and watch where he’s taking you, even though you have a good idea. You moan into his mouth as you feel Matt lay you down on his mattress.

“At least if you get a little too tired to keep going, you can fall asleep in a bed,” he whispers before he starts to kiss your neck.

“So kind of you.”

“I try.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Can I keep going?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Matt flashes you a devilish grin before leaning back in, his hands sliding up under the borrowed sweatshirt tracing the curves of your body.

“You can take it off, you know,” you murmur against his lips. “It’s your shirt, after all.”

He hums in delight, doing as you ask and ridding the fabric from your body and pushing it to the side. “You’re chilly now,” he hums kissing all over the exposed skin, pulling soft moans from your throat. 

It’s your turn to slither your hands up against his rock-hard body under his clothes, lightly raking your fingernails along his skin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Then show me.”

Matt’s lips slot back over yours, tasting every ounce of your mouth that he can. He pulls back, whipping his shirt off. You’re unable to prevent your jaw from dropping when you see his exposed chest, a little wooden cross hanging from a cord around his neck a strong contrast from his fair skin and rippling muscles. It doesn’t hang too long, the space between the two of you closed just as swiftly as it was created before his hands deftly undoes your bra. Matt’s hands slide the straps down your arms, tossing it to the side before his large hands palm at the fleshy mounds, his hips inadvertently beginning to roll against your legs. 

“Mm,” you hum as you start to mark his neck. “I’d say we’re moving fast, but, I like where we’re moving. Seems like you do, too.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Let me lay you down and make you feel good, angel.”

“Mm, ‘angel’,” you smirk as you pull him on top of you. “Sounds better than ‘Kitty’. Better not be calling any other girls that.”

“It’ll be just for you. Swear.”

“Good.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and stop earning the right to call you Kitty, though.”

“Consider it earned. Can even call me Kitten. Now, please tell me you have some condoms here.”

“Mm, I do. But, the thing is, that pretzel left me hungry, angel. I need to eat a little more.”

Your brows furrow before Matt holds your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. He trails his kisses down the column of your neck, moving lower with each embrace, down your chest and torso until his lips reach where your skin and his sweatpants meet. 

“Is it okay if I pull these down, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing feather-soft kisses on your stomach. “Can I kiss you there? Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe a little too quickly, moving your fingers into his soft hair. “Please.”

He smiles, kissing your belly button before curling his fingers round the waistband of the sweats and underwear and sliding them down your legs. His strong hands gently part your legs, exposing yourself to him, his soft, pouty lips kissing back and forth along your inner thighs until his nose brushes the slick folds. A soft moan escapes your throat, so quiet that you almost don’t hear it. As soon as it leaves your lips, you swear you hear Matt growl a little before diving in between your legs. This time, you moan louder, your back arching off of the bed and your fingers clutching the sheets. 

“Matt!” you squeak. His hands are firm on your hips, keeping his face buried in your core, tasting and savoring you like you’re the sweetest of desserts. Your chest heaves as you squirm against him, but each movement of your body only spurs him on to hold you tighter. He hums into your pussy, the vibrations working all the way up your body. 

“M-Matt,” you stutter, feeling yourself get wound tightly as he works diligently between your legs. “Matt, I—oh, fuck!”

Matt just hums, keeping pace and enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You continue to whimper, whine, and squirm, biting your lip harder as you get closer to your release. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel Matt pull away from you, his face in your direction, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

“Don’t hold back, angel. I’ve got you,” he pants. “Make those pretty noises for me. It’s just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about if anyone else can hear. It’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” you say breathily with a frantic nod. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

You could cum with those two words, and the quick twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me that he knows it, too. With a lick of his lips, he dives back down without missing a beat, sliding two thick fingers into you, gently pumping them and curling his fingers to squish against the perfect spot that makes your vision go spotty. You let out your loudest cry of the night, the sheer volume hurting your throat a little. It elicits a deep growl from Matt, and with one more lick, you’re quaking and unraveling on his face. Little tremors continue to jolt through your body as Matt works to lick up every last drop of you before pressing a soft kiss on your swollen nub and kissing his way back up your body. 

You lean up and crash your lips into his, desperate for him. Matt eagerly kisses you back, letting you taste yourself, exploring how you mix with him. 

“Are you up for more?” he pants as he pulls back, trying to smooth down your tousled hair. 

“Please,” you say, the faintest hint of a whine in your voice. “I’m ready.”

Matt smiles, pecking your lips quickly before leaning back and taking his sweats off. Your eyes involuntarily widen when you see just how big he is. If tonight with Matt hasn’t ruined other men for you yet, the feeling of him inside you and how it will undoubtedly linger for days will.

“You okay?” he pants as he works to slide on the condom.

“I’m doing great,” you swallow, trying to remain coherent through the bliss. 

His laugh is like warm tea with honey.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

With the condom firmly on, he leans forward to kiss you slowly. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Matt kisses you again, adjusting the pillows behind you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He places his hands on you gently, forehead resting on yours, before carefully starting to slide in. You bite your lip as your eyes flutter shut, your head suddenly becoming too heavy as you let it roll to the side and rest against his neck. 

“Matt,” you breathe.

“Prefect,” he pants as he slowly pushes forward. “Perfect.”

“M-Matt,” you whimper as you stretch around him. “Big.”

“Do you need me to stop?” he whispers. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No. ’s great. So great.”

“Say the word if you need me to stop, okay? If it’s too much?”

“Okay.”

Your faces turn toward one another, and for the briefest of moments, Matt’s eyes lock onto yours. You feel your heart skip a beat and jump up right into your throat. This is ridiculous—tonight is the first time you’ve actually met him rather than stare at him and wish from a distance, and it’s like your entire universe is on its head. Matt tenderly leans forward, his lips on yours, fueled with a softer passion than what has dictated your embraces for the night. The roll of his hips is slow, and you feel everything ten times over. You hold onto Matt as if your life depends on it, and you let him work as he marks up your neck and shoulder with little bites. 

“Don’t stop,” you plea. “Don’t stop. Matt, please don’t stop!”

Your pleas and whimpers spur Matt to pick up his pace. As he does so, his own soft moans grow louder in your ear, and it drives you wild. The springs of the mattress move from a quiet creak to an all consuming squeak, perfectly punctuated by the headboard hitting the wall.

“Matt!” you cry out, pulling probably harder than you should at his hair. 

“Such a good pussy,” he grunts. “All for me. You’re so good for me, angel. Feel so perfect.”

“Please!”

“Hm?”

“Fuck, Matt! You’re—oooohhhh!”

“Perfect f’me, angel. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

The sound of your slapping skin adds to the erotic symphony in the room, sweat quickly lining your bodies. You whimper as you nuzzle into him, muttering incoherent sentences as his pelvis rubs against your sensitive core, building you up to knock you over with intense pleasure. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and pull a deep growl from the back of his throat. He nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before slotting his lips over yours.

“Matt,” you whimper, really drawing out the vowel in his name. “Matt, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let it out,” he encourages. “Cum for me. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. Let me hear you, angel.”

Matt kisses the sweet spot on your neck and pulls a needy whine from you. A stuttered whine pulls from your lips as your eyes pinch shut and you claw your fingers into Matt’s back. You cry out at the top of your lungs as a second wave of pleasure washes over you. With Matt in you, dragging against every right spot, it feels so much better than with his mouth. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and you cry out in pleasure even louder. The pace of Matt’s hips move even faster, albeit at a more unsteady rhythm with an increased sense of urgency as he tries to soothe the sting of his teeth. His moans turn into grunts, a delight to your ears. 

“Harder,” you beg. “Harder, Matt.”

You feel Matt nod his head against yours, doing as you ask, his lips brushing faint kisses against your cheek. You cry out once more, Matt’s hips pulling one more orgasm from you as he hits his high, spilling into his condom with punctuated thrusts.

Your breathing is heavy as your bodies still, sweat clinging to your skin and soaking the sheets. You chuckle softly as Matt places gentle kisses along your neck, his nose tickling you just so before pulling himself off of you and sliding out. He does it slowly, and you moan softly from the sensitivity and the loss of him. He ties off the condom, shuffling out of bed to throw it away. Matt briefly rounds the corner, coming back with a towel in hand. Without a single word, he carefully spreads your legs, gently cleaning the mess between your thighs. His lips softly kiss your knees and thighs has he works, and you can’t help but smile. He tosses the cloth to the side, it landing perfectly on the edge of his hamper. Matt slides back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you adjust in his hold, kissing your forehead.

“What?” he whispers so softly you want to melt.

“You have freckles,” you whisper back just as quietly as you look up at him. “They’re a little hard to see, but they’re there.”

“Yeah?” he says with a tender smile.

“Mm.” Carefully, you move your fingers against the skin on his cheek, tracing over the faint constellation on his fair skin. 

“What?” he whispers again with a little smirk. 

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Call it a hunch.”

You smile softly. “It’s just . . . I wasn’t planning on coming out tonight. I don’t go out. I don’t go to bars. I don’t do this. Any of this.”

“I think you mentioned that earlier,” he hums with a cheeky smile. God, his voice is like a warm blanket that you just want to snuggle up in. 

“It just felt right, with you. I’m really glad I came out tonight.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” You give him a hum in response. He pulls you closer and presses a long, slow kiss to your lips. “I’m really, really glad you came out, too.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

[yarrystyleeza]

Always So Good With The Kids, And Kids Absolutely Love Him

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

(so my thoughts on this are soft!matt with the ship dynamic: childhood friends with love interest in each other)

Word count: the range of 1,185 words, utter toothaching fluff like a birthday cake! <3

You loved volunteering for Saint Agnes church, the place you grew up at, as you were raised catholic, you usually went to church on Sundays, and attended all events usually scheduled during the week. You got to know a lot of people, from the children your age to the elderly grandpas, and made a lot of good relationships and connections with them.

You had your own job — which was working perfectly fine for you, but you loved sticking around with the children of the orphanage, their poor small innocent hearts deserved all the care and pamper — that was always your thought about them, and it never changed.

Because you were close with one of them once, growing up, as you attended events with your parents, you got to know the kid who never left the place, Matt Murdock, the blind boy. His father, Battlin' Jack Murdock, died when Matt was only 11, and he had no other place to go, so he was staying at the orphanage attached to the church.

He was the same your age, and he was so locked on himself, but only you managed to get him out of his bubble and open up to you about what he feels about the loss of his father, and the loss of his sight, — by then you've become friends, he found comfort in your company.

He even told you about the abilities he had kept for himself, about how the world felt from his perspective, the way he could hear electricity within the walls, and the sirens on the other side of Hell's Kitchen, how he can always smell your golden retriever on your sweaters, and the lavenders your mother grew by your bedroom window, or how he could taste each chemical the tap water contained; and that was fascinating to you as a kid.

Matt grew up to be a defense attorney, and you pursued your dream of being a journalist, and though your routes went sideways, you still remained friends after all those years, pick up a couple of drinks at the bar, or meet up at a diner in the afternoon.

He kept all his secrets with you, even the darkest of them, he told you about his secret identity, his super abilities, Elektra, and the Hand, — and you were always a keeper, you always listened and understood him, and never judged him, that's why he always looked for you when he's in trouble.

You loved spending Sunday evenings at the orphanage — among children, reading them stories and playing with them, you taught them how to bake and draw, and do the little house chores they can do, — and Matt loved to join you sometimes; he loved children, they were "angels on earth" to him, so he loved being around them, brought them presents, and played with them, — and he admired watching you doing something you loved and cherished.

But this Sunday was special, because it was your birthday, and the idea of spending that day with your little friends was something you would never put down.

The kids surprised you by rounding you in a big circle, singing "Happy Birthday miss y/n" and dancing around you, with little candles held in their little hands, they baked you a heart shaped cake with the help of the sisters, and made little drawings and paper boats as your birthday presents.

You sat on the floor and they sat around you, after crowning you with the glittery golden paper crown they made for you. They gave you their wishes. "miss y/n, I wish you can be a princess!" one of the little girls said, you kissed her temple, "well, katy, I couldn't be a princess, for there's already one here!" you replied as you pointed at her, and she turned into a ball of blush. "I wish you and Mr Murdock get married and have children!" a little boy said, it was your turn to blush, unable to articulate any understandable words out of all the laughter that choked you, you and Matt? Well, this was always on your mind. "umm... thank you, Eddie," that was the only sentence you could say. The kids sat silently with their legs crossed, and had their index fingers on their mouths as a hush, their little hushs rumbled around you. You were confused, about to tilt your head to see what they're staring at, "look at me, miss y/n! I have a present for you!" Eddie yelled at you, he ran to your arms and gave you the biggest hug his small arms could do.

"nice move, Eddie," before you could speak, he had cut you off with a kiss on your cheek, "happy birthday, sweetheart," he rounded you with his arms in a very warm embrace, a one you could sink in and sleep soundly. Matt playfully patted Eddie's chin, "I did what you asked me, Mr Murdock!" he chuckled and kissed Matt on the cheek, "oh, boy, you did!" Matt kissed his head.

"Mr Murdock!" the kids shouted, they hugged him and each gave him a kiss on the cheek; Matt have been always so good with the kids, and they absolutely love him, they even team together against you in games!

"what a great surprise, Matt. Didn't you have plans today?" you stated, as he fixed his posture next to you, folding his legs, "how could I miss a day so precious to me?" he answered with a question and a cocky smile, you huffed a chuckle and rolled your eyes.

"this was my plan for the day" he unwrapped the gift he brought to you, it was your all time favorite novel, signed by the author themselves, you swallowed a gasp, "Matt, you..." your words got stuck in your throat, "how could I forget something like that? You've always talked about how much you love that book, and let's say I had to meet the author privately, for him to write you a message..." you couldn't help but jump at him with a hug, and he secured you in his arms, "maybe you wanna go out with me tonight? Discuss Eddie's suggestions?" he soothed your cheek, drawing circles at your chin, "I'd love to," you pecked his lips quickly, and all the kids went "Yuck!!" and "Ew!!", you both laughed and continued on the little celebration the kids held, ate the cake, and sang together.

At the end of the day, the kids gathered around Matt, he kissed each on the crowns of their heads, "thank you for watching out for my girl, Eddie," he squatted to reach the boy's height, "you're welcome, mr Murdock... Are you bringing your baby next Sunday?" Matt chuckled, "that would be a great idea, right, y/n?" your eyes widened, "Matt!" you yelled, face red flushed, he giggled, "I guess she liked it."

The years went by and you and Matt got to have your very own children, but you never stopped going to the orphanage together, just to watch the little innocent hearts grow, and make new memories with the new kids.

Ayyyy, I'm so sorry for the late posting on this one, like I mentioned in an earlier post my internet connection was wobbly and I couldn't blog my own long posts (fics specifically) but now that the problem is fixed, here's your request...

Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3

Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Gentle Touch

Installment 1 of The Catlike Tendencies of Matthew Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt doesn't know how to ask for physical affection.

warnings: none that I can think of!

a/n: long story short this is inspired by my wife’s orange cat. He loves her but only tolerates me most of the time, unless I’m the only one home when he wants attention. However, he doesn’t really know how to cuddle with me since we don’t do it often so he just awkwardly lurks wherever I am until I invite him closer. It happened earlier and I thought it was hilariously Matt-coded so I wrote this. (It’s set in the Of Oak and Ivy verse because I love them, but you don’t need to read that story for this)

w/c: 2.3k

You were absolutely enthralled in the story Foggy was telling when the noise caught you off guard. A small puff of air, sounding almost like a voiceless sigh. Glancing toward Matt who was the closest to you, one look at his stony expression told you it had come from him. He was clearly irritated, despite his face being blank. You’d known him for long enough that you could tell when something was on his mind. 

Maybe he’d heard this story too many times? You leaned more heavily into his arm, which was parallel to yours. 

Turning your attention back to Foggy, you flinched with a laugh as he gestured wildly when concluding his story, spraying beer at you from his mostly full bottle. 

“Geez, Fog. Reaching your limit already?” Matt smirked, his icy exterior fading away as you giggled beside him. 

“He is, he’s all flushed. This is just like that party at the Beta house sophomore year.” You shook your head, looking at Karen with an exasperated expression. “Have they told you the possum story?” 

Smiling gleefully, Karen shook her head. “The possum story?” 

Both Matt and Foggy groaned, protesting and blushing furiously, but Karen was adamant. And who were you to not indulge her?

“In the fall of our second year at Columbia, Matt and Foggy got absolutely plastered on some disgusting concoction of cheap alcohol and Hawaiian Punch,” You began, rolling your eyes as Foggy gagged across from you. 

“God, even the thought of it—“ The blond mime-retched. 

“Yah the smell of Hawaiian Punch still makes me nauseous.” Matt shuddered next to you. 

Karen stifled a giggle as you continued to illustrate just how inebriated you’d found them when you’d come to pick them up. “I was studying and had sat the party out, but offered to drive them home when Fog called me screaming at someone to chug alcohol. I figured they’d both be in no shape to get home.”

“You were correct.” Foggy nodded. 

“I don’t remember anything from that night, but I assume I was the one chugging.” Matt grimaced, laughing sheepishly. 

“So I drove over to the house, somehow got ahold of Matt and managed to convince him to herd Foggy and himself into my car. When they get there, they’re holding this bundle, right? I figured it was dirty clothes or something. But as we were driving home the clothes start hissing.”

“Oh, NO!” Karen cackled, propping herself up on her elbows as she listened to the story. 

“Oh yes. Naturally, I ask Fog what he’s holding and he says ‘my dog’.” 

“We didn’t have a dog,” Matt clarified, looking incredibly guilty. 

“No you did not.” You squeezed his arm, hoping he could hear in your voice that you had no resentment over the incident. “Foggy unwraps the thing a bit and introduces it as ‘Spot’. But instead of a dog,”

“It’s a possum.” Karen finishes for you, nearly in stitches over her coworkers’ mortified faces. 

“An angry one at that. I have no idea where it came from or how they managed to catch it, but there it was.” You shook your head, still amazed at their ability to wrangle the creature while piss-drunk. 

“What happened to it?” Karen asked, and the men erupted. 

“That’s classified.” Foggy stated firmly, lips pressed together. 

“A story for another time,” Matt rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“Don’t tell me you killed it!” Karen gasped, whirling to look at the out of them sternly. 

“Of course not! No possums were harmed in the making of this story, just mildly inconvenienced.” You assured her. “They’re just clamming up because they can’t remember whose fault it was that it got loose in the science hall.”

Trailing off into a fit of laughter, Karen was quick to follow you as the two men started arguing, pointing fingers. Sitting back and enjoying the show, you shot Karen knowing glances as Matt and Foggy fought, no real heat behind their words. 

You’d had so much fun that night, reliving one of the funniest moments of your college years, that you’d completely forgotten about the aggravated sound. Until about one month after, when you were sitting next to Matt on a bench in the courthouse. 

The case he and Foggy had been working on was tedious and full of metaphorical landmines that threatened to ruin any shot your client had at escaping her abusive husband. The entire firm had been on edge, struggling to keep everything in order. Given your lack of steady employment at the moment, you’d been helping out wherever you could, and had been working this case from day one, right alongside Matt. Which is how you’d ended up beside him rather than Foggy. 

The blond had flown out of town a few days before to attend an extended family reunion, leaving the rest of you to man the fort, so to speak. Usually, that wouldn’t be an issue, but Matt had been increasingly temperamental leading up to the ex parte hearing. His normal reserved demeanor had rapidly been replaced by a moody, antagonistic version of him–driving poor Karen to her wit’s end. 

After Matt had incited a screaming match over a spilled cup of coffee, you’d told her to take her lunch early, giving her a couple hours where she didn’t need to walk on eggshells. The plan seemed to be working so far, Matt responding with less hostility to your persistent support rather than Karen’s eager suggestions for an aggressive approach. Something about this case had rubbed Matt the wrong way. His invisible hackles were standing on end, posture almost bristling as he sat beside you, twisting a white-knuckled fist around his cane. And, though you understood why Karen was pushing for another solution, you agreed with Matt that this needed to be handled quickly and quietly. 

Scowling at the floor, Matt’s joints rolled beneath the delicate skin of his hands. His jaw was clenched, shoulders curled inward, as if he expected the judge to request a fist fight to grant the protection order. Christ, that could not be comfortable.

Carefully, slow enough to not spook him when he was in this state, you slid the pads of your fingers over the back of his hand. Prying his firm grip off the handle of his cane, you cradled his massive, calloused hand in your lap. He visibly relaxed at the touch, twisting to face you as you traced gentle patterns over his skin, careful to avoid the line of freshly healed cuts on his knuckles. Your curiosity would have to wait for now. There was no way he was in the mood to explain those.

A breathy rumble sounded in his throat, akin to a sigh but less obvious. The same noise he’d made all those days ago at Josie’s–the quiet indication that something wasn’t right. 

Bottom lip jutting out in sympathy, you squeezed his fingers with your own. “It’ll be ok, Matty.” 

He swallowed roughly, hazel eyes darting around behind his red lenses. You could practically see the thoughts forming in his mind before he buried them, the stress forcing him back into bad habits. Sweeping your fingers over his wrist, you studied him, satisfaction thrumming in your chest when his breath hitched. “Hey, talk to me, trouble. What are you thinking?”

“It’s not going to go well.” His voice was pitched low, angry, but there was a brief undercurrent of fear within it. 

“We don’t know that.” You chastised lightly, knowing this pessimistic streak was a coping mechanism and not confirmation he’d become a nihilist. 

“I can feel it. Can’t you feel it? It’s like every officer is laughing at us. We’ve already lost.” Watching Matt, the perpetual optimist, crumble at the thought of things not going the way you’d planned nearly broke your heart. 

“Oh trouble, don’t say that.” Threading your fingers with his, you knocked your knees together. “It’ll be ok. Even if the judge doesn’t grant the order today, we won’t stop trying, right?”

“No but she needs legal protection now. Truthfully, she needs an armed guard.” Matt spoke bitterly.

“We can get her temporary protection.” You suggested.

“They’d never grant that for a simple DV case. Besides, those are his coworkers. Do you really trust them to keep her safe from him?” Matt scoffed, raising a brow at you. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you jabbed your pinky into the flesh of his palm. “I wasn’t suggesting we go to the police, Matthew. You and I both know how little good that would do.”

Deflating as he realized you weren’t being as naive as he suspected, Matt frowned. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not everyone knows the flaws in the system.” You reassured him. “But I do. To some extent, at least.”

He hummed in agreement, but said nothing. 

“What’s really bothering you?” At your insistent question, Matt’s face flashed with rage, his spine straightening as he tried to pull out of your grasp, but you held fast. “Don’t you dare, trouble. Please, talk to me. It’s eating you away, I can’t sit here and let that happen.” 

Sighing harshly, Matt ran a hand over his face. “I just..this case feels different. I don’t know why. But if we can’t help her…”

“All we can do is try our best.” You reminded him. 

He let out a single humorless laugh. “I suppose that’s true.” 

When you let his hand drop, he made that pitiful, choked noise again. 

“What?” You asked, slightly worried. 

“Nothing. Just tired.” He lied, wrapping his hand back around the handle of his cane.

It was only once you were truly together that you realized what that specific sound was meant to signify. 

Since you’d officially started dating, or rather labeling whatever you two had as a relationship instead of dancing around each other, that stupid noise had cemented itself in your life. It seemed like Matt was making it every damn day and it was driving you up a wall. 

Not because Matt wasn’t entitled to his feelings or to expressing said feelings. But because your brain registered that the sound had a specific meaning, and you could not for the life of you translate it from a mere Matt-ism into a language you actually understood. Every little quirk and charm about Matt inherently made sense to you, they always had. Yet this little growling exhale seemed out of your reach. Not to mention, anytime you tried to ask him what was up, he shut down faster than a computer chip dunked in pool water.

Sitting on his couch as he typed on his laptop, he snarled out that sound, eyes darting towards you and away before you could blink. Brows furrowing, you peered at him over the top edge of your book. A muscle in his cheek twitched, a blaring omen that he was holding himself back from saying something. 

“You ok?” You asked, nose scrunching as Matt brushed off your concern. 

“Yep. Hungry.” He grumbled. 

One word answers. Great start. Really breaking down his walls there, champ. 

“Oh, gotcha. I’ll order something. Have a taste for anything in particular?” Setting your book across your thighs, you opened up a delivery app on your phone. 

“No.” 

“Okay...” You drawled, stifling an eye roll at his grouchiness. “How about that Lebanese place we liked?” 

Receiving nothing but a thumbs up in response, you submit an order before Matt reached another stage of hangriness. 

Once Matt had eaten half of his shawarma, he was more agreeable. Smiling and chuckling sweetly as you read him cheesy snippets of your romance novel. Crawling across the couch until you were seated beside him, you stretched over his lap to snatch a piece of pita bread for your plate of hummus. Matt blew out a breath, tickling your ear as he grunted. Now that you were close, you could hear the shrill, whimpering undertone. Hidden, nearly silent, as if the growl was to compensate for the whine, to conceal it. 

Craning your neck towards him, you planted your free hand on your hip. 

“Alright. Out with it.” 

“Out with what?” Matt gave his best ‘befuddled’ impression, but you saw past his feigned innocence. 

Snorting, you prodded his firm chest. As your finger connected with his solid pec, he whimpered again, this time almost moaning. Something clicked. 

“Matthew Michael Murdock,” You gasped. “You are not making that sound instead of asking to cuddle.” 

Blushing furiously, Matt dipped his head, ashamed–though he made no attempt to deny the allegation.

Laughing incredulously, you tossed your plate aside and settled into Matt’s lap, threading a hand into his hair. “You are a ridiculous man.”

Matt rumbled happily, leaning into the touch until his head landed against your chest. Clutching his face between your palms, you trailed soft touches over his cheeks, around his ears–scratching tenderly down his neck when he practically melted beneath your fingertips.

“You could’ve told me that’s what you wanted, all this time…” Shaking your head, you planted a kiss atop his thick hair. “Why suffer in silence?”

“Didn’t want to force you. It’s been different. Since..everything.” 

Snuggling in close, you maneuvered his chin with two fingers, kissing him deeply. His stubble brushed over your skin roughly, making you smile. “You can always always ask, trouble. No need to be a martyr with me.”

“Sorry,” Matt murmured against your lips, chasing your mouth with a mournful noise as you pulled away. 

“Don’t be sorry. Now come here.” Tugging him on top of you, you laughed brightly as he squirmed over you, finally relaxed when his face was tucked against your neck. “That’s it. Better?” 

“Much better.” He whispered, going limp under your touch as your fingers stroked up his back.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @shouldbestudying41

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

-

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 

"Matt?" 

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the slow night

buttercup, chapter six

a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.

summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3244

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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids. 

“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”

Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”

Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.

“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”

“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”

“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.

“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”

A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.” 

Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them. 

Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen. 

The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button. 

Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.

“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit. 

You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs. 

A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms. 

“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared. 

“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.   

“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”

Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”

“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”

“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”

Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot. 

Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue. 

Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip. 

Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.

Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?” 

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more. 

Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt. 

Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you. 

“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees. 

Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north. 

Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips. 

Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge. 

A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core. 

“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.

Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head. 

“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull. 

“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”

Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?” 

“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. 

It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”

Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”

As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants. 

“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.

“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk. 

“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso. 

“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.” 

You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high. 

Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity. 

“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”

Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.  

Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his. 

His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you. 

But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick. 

“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. 

“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion. 

“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.

Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise. 

Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”

Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width. 

“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”

Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge. 

With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths. 

As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.” 

With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen. 

As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”

“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be. 

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.” 

Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”

Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”

“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”

“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?” 

“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in. 

“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you. 

A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”

Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”

Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud. 

“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again. 

Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[bellaxgiornata]

List of Installments for The Devil at Your Window

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

List of Installments

Part One: Snowed In

Part Two: Borrowed Scarf

Part Three: A Show of Trust

Part Four: One of the Good Ones

Part Five: Looking Out for the Devil

Part Six: A Clarifying Moment

Part Seven: In Denial

Part Eight: Interruptions

Part Nine: A Hard Problem

Part Ten: Blood & Honesty {Coming Soon}

Part Eleven: Separation

Part Twelve: Still Awake

[saberlight1]

pretty boy — matt murdock

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader.

warnings: language, fluff, established relationship, standard daredevil warnings.

authors note: hiii! since rewatching daredevil, my matt and frank obsession has been back up n running (not that i’m complaining). and this is based on this request, thank you anon <3. i love this little fluffy fic, i hope you enjoy this!

masterlist

You watched the snowflakes fall with a calm smile on your face. You had always adored this time of year, especially when it snowed. It was just something about how the never ending buzzing of Hell’s Kitchen would just stop for a moment— just peace and quiet. It never failed to calm your nerves, whatever worries that were on your mind washing away with the snow hitting the ground.

You were sat on your boyfriend’s couch wrapped up in a blanket with a book in your hand, soaking in the tranquility that this type of weather brought you. Matt’s apartment was always one of your favorite places— it was always so quiet and the big, open windows granted you a sight to Hell’s Kitchen. Even with the bright build-board right outside, you still loved it. Most of all, you loved it because it was his. Everything in the apartment reminded you of Matt, thats why you spent as much time as possible here.

“Sweetheart?” Matt’s call broke you from your thoughts, and your heart swelled at his voice. You stood up immediately, walking over to where he was kicking off his shoes and jacket by the door.

“Hi, baby,” You smiled, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as his hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Hi,” He whispered as you took off his sunglasses. The second the lenses were off his eyes, the man brought his lips to yours.

Your smile only grew against his lips as you dug one of your hands into his hair— the man before you only growing more greedy against your lips.

You pulled back for air, a teasing look on your features. Matt may not have sight, but he could always tell when that look crossed your face. “Someone missed me, huh?” You cheekily teased.

His cold hands dove under the material of your— his shirt, causing a yelp to leave your lips as you attempted to get away from him.

He smiled brightly at you. “Of course I missed you,” His cold hands only traveled further up your back, and you knew the sneaky fucker could probably hear the goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Stop!” You giggled, trying to fight your way out of his arms, but you knew it was fruitless.

“Okay, okay,” He chuckled, relenting his cold hands from your warm skin. “‘m sorry, you’re just warm and it was fuckin’ freezing out there.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, your hands grabbing his own from your hips and wrapping them within your own in an attempt to warm them up. “I told you that this morning. Just because you’re the big, bad Daredevil doesn’t mean you don’t get cold, my love.” You joked, interlacing your fingers and leading him to your shared room.

He rolled his own eyes with a smile at your remark, you never failed to tease him for his vigilante ways— even when he came to you half dead and you had to patch him up, you still found a way to crack a joke to see his smile.

“Here,” You turned to him with a hoodie and sweatpants in your hands. “Get out of that suit so we can cuddle on the couch.” You left a kiss on his lips before turning on your heel and walking towards the kitchen.

Matt shook his head with a laugh, but did as he was told regardless. Once he was settled, he made his way towards where you were in the kitchen. You smiled softly when you felt his chest against your back and his arms slither around your waist. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he left small kisses along your neck.

“Hot chocolate, huh?” He murmured against your neck.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his use of his senses. “Yep, might help you warm up, Frozone.” You joked.

“I know you did not just compare me to that dude from Incredibles.” He scoffed, feigning offensiveness.

You giggled. “How do you even know that?”

“Honey, my ears still work.” He pinched your hip lightly. “When that movie came out all the kids at the orphanage loved it. Had to hear it at least three times a day,”

You grimaced at the thought. “That must’ve been torture, havin’ to constantly hear the plot of that movie.”

“It was.” He agreed.

“Don’t tell me you hate that movie, though.” You looked at him from over your shoulder, holding up a finger. “‘Cause that was my favorite Disney movie for a while..”

He started tickling you immediately, a loud squeal leaving your lips. “Oh, my girl has a basic taste in Disney movies?” He teased with a smile, talking slightly loud over your laughter. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Matthew!” You wheezed out, thrashing in his grip. He finally relented as you laid against him while you attempted to catch your breath. “Didn’t know you were so passionate about my taste..”

“Well, I gotta let you know if it’s a basic one.” He shrugged, a smirk on his lips.

“If it’s so basic, then how’d I pick you?” You bit back with raised brows.

A breathy chuckle escaped him, before he paused to lick his lips. “Fair play, honey.”

You only smiled in return, turning back to pour the pair of you a mug of hot chocolate. Matt let his eyes flutter shut behind you, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he relaxed to the sounds of just simply: you.

You smiled when you noticed what he was doing, one of your hands coming up to scratch his scalp. “It’s ready,” You softly said.

He pulled away from you to grab his mug. “Thank you, baby.” He left a kiss to the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the couch.

He placed both of your cups on the coffee table before lying down and dragging you into his chest, yet another yelp leaving your lips.

Your chin rested on his chest as you looked at him with questioning eyes.

“What?” He laughed. “I told you I missed you,”

You only smiled, leaning up slightly to bring your lips together. His hand immediately shot up to cup your jaw, the man also leaning up to deepen it. You’d never get tired of the way his lips chased yours, and how passionately he kissed you every time.

You pulled back for air, but not before leaving a couple small pecks to his lips.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you, Matt.” You whispered back, leaving one last kiss to his lips before digging your head into the crook of his neck— the hot chocolate being long forgotten.

But in all honesty, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were perfectly fine just as you were, wrapped up in your lover’s arms during a snowstorm.

[babygirlmurdock]

Confessions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption

a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔

You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.

Matt.

You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”

“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.

You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.

“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.

“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.

Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.

“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.

“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.

You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.

“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.

You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.

“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.

“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.

Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.

“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.

“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.

“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”

Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”

“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.

You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.

You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.

Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.

“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.

“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”

“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.

“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.

“I’m in love with you.”

Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.

“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.

“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.

Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”

“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.

“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.

You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.

“Please say something,” Matt begged you.

“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”

You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.

“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“

“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.

“If you’d let me finish—“

“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.

“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.

“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.

“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.

Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”

“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.

“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”

“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.

“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ

tags: @yarrystyleeza

I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀

All credit to the original gif owner!

[bunmurdock]

Just the thought of Matt comforting you when you’ve reached your breaking point.

He can hear the way your breathing is uneven, the taste of salt in the air as you blink back tears, the way you’re trying to hold yourself together and insist you’re fine.

Yet all it takes is him pulling you close in a hug and telling you to let it that breaks the dam and you sob into that embrace. He holds you tighter, his own heart aching as your sobs rip through you. He never lets go for a second, comforting you throughout.

And when you’re done, if you’re not feeling up for talking about it right then, Matt gently lifts you up and carries you to the bedroom. He makes sure to grab some tissues and has you drink some water after all the tears you shed. And after some more reassurance (“Whenever you’re ready to talk about it sweetheart, I’ll be here. Get some rest”), he’ll lay down and hold you close. You curl up into him, your head against his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat like a lullaby as you let sleep take you.

You know the ache in your chest and the exhaustion in your mental state will have drained you even when you eventually wake up, but at least Matt will be there to help you through it

(From someone who is absolutely going through it and know Matt’s hugs might probably fix me, if only for a while)

i'm so sorry for what you're going through, nonnie. ♡

matt murdock would sense the shift in you the moment you step inside your shared home—your heart beating just a little too fast, your footsteps heavy with exhaustion. and he’d move toward you, no questions asked, arms already opening to pull you in. “come here, sweetheart,” he’d murmur, voice low and soft, and that’s it—all the strength you’ve been trying so hard to hold onto crumbles.

he’d hug you so tightly—so completely—that it’d feel like nothing bad could touch you while you’re wrapped in his arms. one hand would cradle the back of your head, pressing you into his chest, while the other rubs slow, soothing circles on your back. “you don’t have to hold it in,” he’d whisper, his breath warm against your hair. “just let it out, baby. i’ve got you.” his words would crack something open in you, and you’d sob, gripping at him like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

when the tears slow, he’d press a kiss to your temple, gentle and lingering. “come on,” he’d say, lifting you effortlessly into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. you’d feel every solid muscle shift, every steady heartbeat against your own chest, and it’d remind you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. he’d carry you to the couch or the bed, settling you down with so much care, like you’re something precious that needs tending. “let’s get you comfortable,” he’d say, grabbing you his soft plaid blanket and wrapping it around you, tucking it in snugly.

he’d kneel next to you, thumb brushing away the lingering tears on your cheeks. “whatever’s weighing on you, you don’t have to carry it all,” he’d say, his voice low but certain. “not alone.” he’d press your hand to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. “feel that? as long as this is going, you’ve got me.”

he’d bring you water, guiding the glass to your lips if your hands are trembling too much to hold it yourself. “small sips,” he’d murmur, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek. “there you go, baby. good job.” and when you’ve had enough, he’d set it aside, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you to sit in his lap. he’d rock you gently, one hand tracing slow patterns on your back, the other holding your head against his shoulder.

“tell me what happened,” he’d say. if you managed to speak then, even just a little—admitting how lost you felt, or how nothing seemed to be enough—his jaw would tighten imperceptibly, but he’d keep that soft edge for you, the one that made you feel like everything you said was being cradled carefully.

“you’re more than the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” he’d say, squeezing your hand. “and you’re not just the sum of what you haven’t done, either.” his fingers would move, tracing the lines of your palm. “sometimes, surviving is enough. sometimes, it’s the best you can do—and that’s more than good enough.”

when the silence stretched between you, comfortable this time, he’d find little ways to anchor you. maybe he’d run a warm bath, not because he thought it’d fix everything, but because he knew the warmth might ease the tension from your muscles. he’d stay nearby, offering a washcloth or combing his fingers through your hair if you’d let him, the gestures quiet but full of love.

later, he’d help you change into fresh clothes—his old colombia hoodie, soft from years of wear—and make sure you had a bite to eat, even if it was just toast or a few crackers. “we’ll take it one step at a time from here,” he’d remind you, his voice still so calm, so grounding. “it doesn’t have to be everything at once. just one thing. and then the next.”

when you were ready to try sleeping, he’d pull you close again, his body warm and solid behind you. “there are going to be days that feel impossible,” he’d murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “days that make you think it’s never going to get better. but you don’t have to face them alone. even if all you can do is let one other person in—that is enough.”

masterlist — i recommend the “angst” or “fluff” tags if you haven’t already tried them ♡

[peterman-spideyparker]

Handful (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’ve been editing WIPs all day, and this one was quick and cute that I just couldn’t not share first (especially since I’ve found a strange amount of angsty WIPs for me). I hope you enjoy! :)

Summary: You love Matt Murdock. You’ve fallen into an easy pattern with him, and it’s comforting—it feels like home. You love waking up in his arms, your easy mornings. That doesn’t mean that these sweet moments are immune to his special breed of Murdock charm.

Warnings: Kissing and being cute idiots in love, flirting, pet names foreplay, smut (oral - f!receiving, praise kink (Matt’s breaking out “good girl” again) p in v sex, unprotected sex—wrap it up, folks!, creampie) Matt is a sexy and smartass menace)

Other Characters: None

Word Count: IDK, this is a straight copy and paste from my notes app and is kind partially proof read😂

You roll over in bed and hum happily as your arm drapes over Matt’s middle and you snuggle him closer. You feel Matt adjust and wrap his arm around you, his fingers gently brushing against your arm.

“Did I wake you?” he whispers softly.

“No,” you yawn softly. “Nice that you’re still here in bed, though.”

A gentle chuckle rolls through him, careful to not break the peace of the morning. “You’re just up earlier than usual, sweetheart.”

You blink in the early morning light and move your head to look up at him. His hair is fluffy and sticking up at odd angles, his face is still covered in a veil of blissfulness from a good nights sleep, and happiness twinkling in his eyes.

“Good morning, Matty,” you smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiles back, leaning in for a kiss. It’s chaste and sweet at first, but with each additional seconds our lips are connected, it’s easier to get lost in him. Matt feels it too, softly moaning into your mouth as he rolls over on top of you, one hand sliding to rest on the side of your neck as the other moves to your side. Your hands happily slide around his back, your fingers gently dragging against the line of his back, brushing against a few of his scars. You kiss like this, enjoying the embraces that are growing deeper and deeper before you wiggle your hips on the mattress without much thought, signaling Matt to roll his hips into you. You break the kiss and moan out, Matt’s beautiful pouty lips pulling into a smile as he places slow, wet kisses on your neck.

“That’s music to my ears, angel,” he husks, dragging his kisses across your neck and up the other side. “Makes me think of everything I want to do to you.”

“Ah, Matt,” you moan softly.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“You’re a real handful,” you grin with a little chuckle as his lips hone in on your sweet spot.

“I’m a handful?” he echos, his morning stubble scratching against your skin.

“Mm, fuck,” you breathe softly as he sucks on the sweet spot under your jaw, your hands sliding up his back, one moving to the back of his head to tug at his hair. His hands just squeeze your hips before moving down to your legs, spreading them before Matt brings his lips back to yours.

“Matt,” you grin against his lips as he does the same.

“Shh,” Matt hums.

“It tickles!” you start to chuckle softly.

“I think I know where it might tickle more, if you’re up for it.”

“Matt!” you laugh, your hands sliding through his hair as he leans in for another kiss. His hands squeeze you, gently prodding you for a response, and you nod your head as your lips are locked. He kisses down your body, quickly moving to the space between your legs that remained bare after your adventures from the previous night. Matt licks a deliberate line up from your hole to your clit, making you moan out into the bedroom. He happily licks and feasts, enjoying the leftover slick still between your legs before he comes back up and kisses you deeply.

“Can I? Do you want to?” he breathes a gentle hand stroking up and down your arm.

You spread your legs a little more, locking your ankles around his. “I’d like that,” you hum, sliding your hands between your bodies, feeling that he’s already hard—he usually is to some degree in the mornings after you’re intimate. You give him a few more pumps until he’s a little more up, and you guide him in. You both suck in a little breath when his tip hits the very beginning of your entrance and exhale as he slides in deeper and deeper until he can’t go anymore.

“Fuck,” Matt breathes as he stills, leaning down to kiss you long and slow, over and over to shower you in nothing but love. He slowly rolls his hips to see if you’re okay to go and you nod, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him over and over.

Matt’s movements are languid and tender, your fingers lacing together on one hand while your other snakes around to the middle of his back. At the same time, his free hand ghosts over your skin and settles your waist, sending goosebumps out across your body. Your movements mirror one another, complement each other, the true definition of love. Your free hand gives him a squeeze, silently urging him to go faster. He feels so wonderful, and oh, you just want him. You want him so bad.

“Please,” you moan. “Please, Matt, please more.”

“Good girl,” he pants, forehead resting against yours. “My good girl. So good for me, wrapped around me like that. So good taking me like this. So good, angel.”

You run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots and slotting your lips against to his, your noses smushing together. His teeth nip at your lower lip as he pulls back slightly before capturing it between both of his. All you can do is pant and hold onto Matt’s back with your legs wrapped around him as he rolls his hips into you over and over, making the bed squeak and rock.

“Matthew,” you whine. “Matty . . . Feel so good.”

“Good girl,” he breathes against your neck, sending goosebumps throughout your body. “So good for me.”

You take in a deep breath and slowly let it out in moans by Matt’s ear. You don’t know if it’s because you’re still a little tired or the way the sheets are bunched slightly under your back, but everything feels so much better.

“So good,” he praises again. “You’re nice and sensitive, hm? My cock feels extra good in your pretty pussy, doesn’t it?”

“So good, Matt,” you whine. “Matt . . .”

“Mmm . . . You’re mine.”

You squeak, your hand squeezing his.

“Yeah?” he hums with one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen, his eyes sparkling.

“I love you.”

He only glows more. “I love you,” he breathes, leaning in and kissing you again.

The roll of his hips pick up in pace as you feel him hit deeper inside of you, and all you can do is hug Matt’s waist with your knees and keep him close until he cums deep inside of you. Your moans are harmonious, and just as he’s almost done riding out his high does yours crash over you in shattering shockwaves, squeezing you desperately and making his moans jump an octave. He stills and slows, kissing you all over to keep you grounded and center you in his arms.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he gravels in his alluring baritone.

“Good morning, my love,” you murmur, leaning up for one more kiss, long and slow. Your lips part from his and your head happily falls back down on the pillow.

You both groan softly as Matt pulls out. With one more kiss, Matt slides out of bed and puts on his boxers, shuffling out of the bathroom.

“Hey,” you whine, panting, irked your cuddles have been cut short. “Where are you going?”

“Mass,” he says, unphased, twisting to look at you from the doorway of your room. “Gotta freshen up before I leave.”

He gives you a small smile as you stare at him, your mouth hanging slightly while you watch him move out of the room. Yup, he’s a real handful.

———————————

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

[yarrystyleeza]

Slow Dancing In PJs

Requested by @itwasthereaminuteago

(so my thoughts on this are vigilante!matt with the ship dynamic: wounded/healer, established relationship (platonic to romantic), and the tone is angst (hurt/comfort) and pure fluff + mentions of blood and violence, stitching Matt like the good boy he is)

Word count: almost 2k! A really long one tbh! 😅

The night you fished him out of the dumpster months ago, you knew this wasn't gonna be the last time you'd encounter the Devil Of Hell's Kitchen. He was covered in blood, slashes of a knife fight were scattered across his torso, luckily, they were shallow injuries, and you were experienced enough to stitch them up — being a well-trained scout leader. Well... Spending your Friday night on mending a wounded vigilante wasn't in your plans at all, but there you were, sitting on the chair facing him after you had finished sewing him back together.

He woke up terrified, blindly groping for the piece of black cloth that covers his face, you threw it in his direction, he caught it without facing it. "you're welcome, sir," you said as you stood up, heading to your kitchen were you took the teapot off the stove, pouring the tea into two mugs, "at least you should stay for tea, don't be ungrateful," you stated as you saw him walking towards the window.

He roared and clutched on his side, you put the mugs down on the coffee table and ran up to lead him back to the couch. "you know, they're not really that deep, but you have to take the night off, Mr Devil, they might get worse, and I'll have to send you to a hospital," you commented, sarcastic enough.

He sighed, accepted your tea, and settled down the couch for the rest of the night. He was so nice, unlike what Fisk was promoting for the last few years — you never trusted Fisk and you stood against him in every chance you had, and the innocence of the Devil was a sign that you're on the right side.

Ever since that summer night, the Devil Of Hell's Kitchen never stopped coming to your place, always knocks on your window glass to let him in after a long night of vigilant-ing. He never skipped a night, from the need for new stitches and bandages, to the excuses he made up just to be around you, he'd even call you during the day to check on you and assure you that he's doing well, too.

Within the first three weeks, you got to know who was the man behind the mask, a man who couldn't bear the darkness that dampened the city he loved the most, a lawyer who couldn't find justice in the light of the day so he seeks it under the shadows of the night, a blind man with an ability that never stopped amazing you, Matt Murdock, the attorney that was slandered for doing criminal acts while he was the one fighting against them. And you... You shifted from just being against Fisk to be Matt biased, if that's how you label it.

Soon enough, you moved from sitting on the armchair facing him to be next to him on the couch, and not long after, he had his head settled on your lap while telling you how his life was going as you play with his brown locks. It wasn't long before you shared your first kiss on the same couch, and cuddled in your blankets as the fall approached.

One snowy night in the middle of January — as you stood in the kitchen steaming milk on the stove to cook hot chocolate, you heard the fainting taps on the living room window glass, soft double taps, followed by another double, it's him.

You wiped your wet hands in your apron and turned the stove off, rushed to the window, you unlocked the deadbolt, "hi, angel," he greeted you with a quick peck on the mouth the second you opened the window, you kissed him back, "Matty, how was your night, baby?" he slid into your embrace the moment he slipped out the window frame. He didn't answer your question, you took your head off his chest and took the mask off his face. Oh boy, if this isn't the biggest bruise you've ever seen on his face, he kept a sealed smile, his eyebrows arched. "that doesn't look okay to me, what happened?" you took him to the couch, started to probe him thoroughly, walking your fingers over him and checking for his response.

"I got punched and hit my face on concrete, you know..." he stalled, "you should be more careful, Matty, your face is a mess and you have a day at court tomorrow," you rolled your eyes, you felt helpless, he sighed. For both your fortune — he wasn't really injured, only bruises were sprinkled around his body, and a little cut in his forehead to be fair.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," your shoulders fell, "I'm just so worried about you, I don't want anything to make you feel nervous specially tomorrow, and showing up in court black and blue is not a good thing for you," you cupped his face, he silently kissed the palm of your hand. "so, how was the fight?" you asked as you walked over to the shelves to bring the first aid kit, "some jewelry burglars..." he started, you brought in a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth and a pack of ice, placed them down the coffee table, "how are they active now? The cold is unbearable!" you commented, he shrugged, "sorry, continue," you soaked the cloth with water, to delicately walk it over his bruised skin to wipe the dry blood off.

"luckily, they hadn't stolen anything yet when I got there," he shrugged, "they were all put down in a few minutes, but one of them really got into the fight with me... He punched me, I punched him back, there was blood splattering everywhere..." you watched his face shifting into a look of pity for himself, "I guess I wasn't focused... one hit I was thrown to the wall... The next I was on the ground..." you were stitching the slit in his forehead, you paused, "hey, Matty, you did so good out there, you always do, and you got them arrested too, baby, there's nothing to worry about," you scooped his jaw in both of your palms. "the moment I hit the ground all I thought of was you, I was scared that you're gonna be worried about me, and that if I don't make it out alive they might find a lead to you and hurt you," his waterfalls were streaming hot on his cheeks, you squeezed tighter, "oh, Matt," you didn't know what to say, Matt is so stubborn when it comes to convincing him, "you... You know no one can hurt me, I have you, Matt," you looked into the vastness of his brown irises, "you almost didn't tonight..." you swallowed your tears, you needed comfort yourself, you got scared to death when you thought about losing him.

"but you're here now, and we're sitting on my couch and I have your face in my hands and you have my whole body in your arms, we're sure enough safe," you had to fight the negative thoughts before it's too late, Matt would go into a breakdown episode and might lock himself away forever. "we're here, together, in my house, far away from all the bad things, and... we're almost to cuddle and drink hot chocolate, I think we're far from being in danger," you couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you imagined you two snuggled on the couch with Cocoa mustaches, "maybe you should take a quick shower, use some floral shampoo, girly scents, baby powder, it might help you clear your mind, right baby?" you kissed him on the cheek, he smiled, you exhaled a "finally!" and hugged him, "now, I'll finish stitching that cut, and you can go take a shower."

You were done in less than ten minutes, you kissed his stitched cut and quickly placed a bandage on it, he chuckled, "I don't have any other Matt Murdock, so I gotta keep mine safe and sound," you brushed your thumbs over his cheeks, "I love you," he whispered, "I know, Matty, you can't resist me," he chuckled, pecked your lips and stood up.

You watched him march to the bathroom where you had already prepared him clean clothes —you bought a couple of matching pajamas for you and Matt for the days he has to stay at your place— as you walked back to the kitchen. You turned the stove back on, and started to stir the milk in the pot. Not long after, the milk was almost boiling, so you added the rest of the ingredients.

As you stirred aimlessly waiting for the mixture to cook, your nostrils were hit by a wave of floral scents, and before you could react, you were bounded in his arms, he nuzzled into your shoulder, "thank you," his voice vibrated onto your skin, a grin grew on your face, you caressed his barely bearded cheek, "no need, I'm your healer, aaand your girlfriend," he pecked your cheek, "the best of the two."

"I knew pink is gonna look good on you," you cheered as you turned to look at him, the pajama was hoodie-like pastel pink with bear ears, and had a cute brown bear on the chest, he rolled his eyes, "come on, put the hood on, Matt, you're gonna catch a cold!" he shook his head relentlessly, "I won't," you huffed, "come on, Murdock!!! Don't be such a prick!!!" you aimed your grasps at the hood, he took a couple steps back as you marched towards him, and it turns to you running after him as he sprints around the living room, "you're gonna put it on, Murdock!!!" you stood on the couch and finally caught him, he let you win this time, otherwise you'd be still running around behind him losing breath, he chuckled at how you threw yourself on the couch after you've done your job. He looked absolutely adorable with bear ears.

He walked to the kitchen for his turn to serve the hot drink, you walked over to the kitchen counter and turned the little radio on, it started to stream old slow dance jazz music. Matt filled the mugs with chocolate, and the moment he let the pot down, you pulled him by the hand closer, "shouldn't I be the one pulling you this way?" he caught up with your steps quickly, spun you around, "well, one of us had to do it," you hung your arms over the broad of his shoulders, fingers delicately wrapped around his nape, playfully curling the little dampened dark locks on the ends of his hair.

He let his callouses fold your waist, guiding you around as he stuck his cheek to yours. He danced you around perfectly, swaying and sliding his feet across the wooden floor, "you're mastering slow dance, I'm kinda jealous," you mumbled into his hoodie, he smiled and kissed the side of your head, nuzzled in your hair for long, "what about we go out dancing this weekend, angel? Show you some of my new techniques," he cooed, you nodded tirelessly, "I'd love to, Mr Devil, I'd never say no," you pulled your head off his chest, still keeping pace with his smooth movement.

He leaned down to pull a kiss off your lips, you went along easily, he smiled his kisses on you. "you wanna drink the hot chocolate now?" he asked as he pulled away, still less than an inch between your lips, you smiled, "and cuddle in blankets as we listen to a horror podcast? I'd love to!" he pecked your mouth quickly and carried you to the couch as you picked the mugs up, he placed you down and snuggled next to you, scooping you in his arms, resting his head onto your shoulder. You listened to tens and tens of stories until eventually both of you collapsed into each other's arms, feeling safe and warm — and filled with love.

I couldn't shake the n.4 prompt you sent me — off my mind, so I actually wrote it 😂🥰 it's actually one of my favorite requests, I put a lot of effort into it, I hope it'd reached your expectations 🥺💕

Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3

Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 23: Comfort/Crying

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Comfort/Crying (🌼)

Summary: You’ve had a shitty couple of months, trying to hold on for the sake of everyone around you, but you can only take so much…

Warnings: Angst, crying, slight allusions to depression, self-loathing, hurt/comfort, not proof-read

Word Count: 982

A/n: This prompt hits differently now than it would have when I intended to post it, but now it also comes at the right time because I do feel like we have all cried a lot lately. I know I have, and I could use some good old Matty comfort right about now. Like, a hug would be enough.

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon)

You’re tired. 

You’re so tired.

Life has had quite the habit of beating you down lately, and you are so exhausted you just want to disappear. You are expected to function, but how can you when you’re already falling apart?

“Hey,” Matt says softly from the doorway. “You okay?”

You don’t look up from the onions you’re cutting. He just got home from court; the last thing he wants is to listen to you bitch and moan about what a shitty month you’ve had. 

You have to function because there are people who depend on you. If you’re not strong for him, what is the point? In your mind, at least, that makes sense, twisted as it may be—and it is incredibly twisted.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just… making dinner.”

The vegetable’s gases burn in your eyes. You’re shaking, but that must be all the caffeine you had after yet another sleepless night. Matt is gone so much, during the day as this kindhearted lawyer who fights for the rights of the innocent, and at night as Daredevil, he doesn’t know how you keep tossing and turning when he’s not there. You can’t blame him for having his own shit to deal with; he’s a good boyfriend, and you love him to pieces, but you can’t talk to him. 

You don’t want him to worry because you know he would burn the world down if it meant you could be free of all this pain. He would find a way to exorcize the hell out of the demons in your head, wrap you in cotton, and keep you safe from the storm raging outside. He would let go of everything just to be with you, and you refuse to let yourself be this fucking selfish. Because people depend on him, too. 

But oh, you are truly falling apart at the seams. Too much to feel, too much to think about—it is a painful weight on your chest threatening to crush you. There is no reason behind it, just a myriad of disasters balled into one, and the avalanche is about to take you away. 

Matt reaches out, fingers brushing your shoulder. “You sure?” he asks. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. 

“You’re crying.”

“It’s the onions,” you say. “The, uh, fumes…”

“Okay.” 

He doesn’t have to acknowledge the fact that you’re crying to know something is wrong with you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. 

He’s your sanctuary. 

His hand hovers over the one holding the knife.  “Let go,” he says. “Let go…” 

Your fingers loosen around the handle. Matt catches it, wasting no time to place it aside before you can hurt yourself on the sharp edge of its blade. His voice is a mere breath against your heated temple. “That’s it. It’s okay.”

You can barely breathe, your arms flailing around helplessly. Matt doesn’t dare let go of you, afraid you might fall apart if he loosens his hold, so he squeezes his arms around you until you are enveloped in a cocoon of him, and the world outside disappears.

He shushes in your ear. Gentle whispers of, ‘You’re okay. I’ve got you,’ course through your veins like a balm for your weary soul. You’ve been holding on for the sake of the people around you for too long; it rolls over you like a boulder. You can no longer stop it. 

His hands find yours, intertwining your fingers as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Let it out,” he says. 

The tears run down your cheek in an endless flood. It’s ugly, messy, and feels like too much, but Matt doesn’t pull away. He stands there, absorbing every bit of it, trying to work as a sponge to soak up what’s hurting you. He would rather have you take the pain out on him than suffer through any of this alone.

When you finally manage to suck in a deep, shuddering breath, you’re exhausted—wrung out. Wrecked. But there is a sudden emptiness where the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders used to be. 

You finally lift your head, tearful eyes staring back into his. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He shushes you. “You needed to cry. It’s okay.”

You whimper at the tenderness in his voice. 

“It’s okay to lean on me.” He turns you around to him, pressing your face into his chest. “Just promise me you’ll come to me next time.” A kiss melts against your temple. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

A sharp breath burns the tender flesh of your lungs. “No, I–” you stammer. “I have t–”

He cuts you off, his own voice on the verge of breaking. “You don’t. You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore.”

The dam might be breaking, but he is right there to pick up the pieces before they can get lost in the current with the shards of your broken heart. He patches you up the only way he knows how: with his hands and silent declarations of his undying love. 

And it really is undying, you realize. He loves you when you’re put together, and he loves you when you’re broken. He loves you without a doubt or second thought. He loves you unconditionally, wholly, and he would go to the ends of the earth for you. 

You’re not alone. You might have been once, but not since you met him. Not since he walked into your life and turned it all upside-down. 

You filled each other’s empty hearts like it was the only thing to do.

You don’t have to deal with these demons on your own anymore because Matt will always be there for you, no matter how much you loathe your miserable self. He will always be there to pick up the pieces, and you will never have to be alone again.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[sunflowersandsapphires]

hi sapph!! sorry i’m late, would love to see a mikey or matt headcanon <3

-vienna!

Some married Matt HCs for you, my sweet Vienna!

Despite the numerous allegations that Matt is a womanizer, this man LOVES COMMITMENT

For the first few months of your marriage, he will refer to you as “Mrs. Murdock” at any opportunity.

The smile he gets when introducing you as his wife is BEAMING. You’ve never seen him so happy. 

HATES taking his ring off. And he makes you keep it safe for him while he’s out patrolling. Either has a special ring dish where both your rings sit on your nightstand while he’s out, or asks you to wear it on a chain. Whichever you prefer. It’s necessary that your rings remain together and you keep them safe for him though.

Loves to slip out of bed while you’re asleep to make you breakfast. The presentation isn’t perfect but it is absolutely delicious. He is constantly experimenting with new recipes in order to make you the perfect breakfast in bed. He wakes you up with soft kisses and sits next to you while you eat, stealing bites from your fork. 

Would rather steal your wallet than let you pay for something. His masochism extends to his dwindling bank account.

Whenever he’s having a bad day, you are the first thing he craves. When he gets home, he’ll wrap you up in this bear hug and just stand there breathing you in.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hello lovelyy, hope ur doing good! 🫶🏼 can i request a studying w college matt fluff? where he is like all boyish and sweet and perfect and boyfriend ughhh

ps.: yes I KNOW i only request for him 😭 but im new to the fandom and obsessed w him.. sometimes i feel like the hype on him is kinda gone idk.. so if you do not feel like writing, it its all good! thank uuu and love ur blog! 💐

hii my angel!! I am and hope you are too!! so so cute and ofc!! it depends on who you follow bc matty gets lots of love on my dash. if you want i can rec some matt writers? but if you follow me, I have a feeling you probably follow them already😭 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

he’s the prettiest

STUDY BUDDIES.

college matt murdock x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 353

At the end of every school week, you and Matt would have a long, laborious study session to complete all assignments before the weekend rolled around. They would be tedious, but they were worth it when it meant you could have a couple of days together, interrupted and enjoying the other's company.

You would always be far more productive when you were in the presence of your boyfriend, though most would think otherwise. His silent encouragement and support would give you the push you needed to work through your copious papers and assignments - his hard work ethic also rubbing off on you.

You were in your dorm, you at your desk, Matt laying on your bed - braille papers bunched and resting atop his chest —disregarded—

Both of you were trying to cram as much as you could before calling it a night, each of you far too tired to be using your brains in the way you currently are.

"I can't do anymore," you sigh, twisting in your chair to face Matt. "My head will explode," you playfully groan, standing to join him on your bed. 

"I can help?" he offers, scooching across the mattress - making more space for you.

You flop beside him and curl into his side, head resting atop his paper-covered chest. "No. No, absolutely not," you laugh softly, far too weary to give it any more than that. 

"I didn't mark you down as a quitter," he lightly chuckles, stroking a hand up your spine - gently nudging you closer to him. "Shame on you," he teases, pressing a kiss into the top of your forehead.

You peer up at him, his signature boyish smile out and on display. "Did you even finish your assignment?" you ask, gesturing to the papers beside him. 

He hums, tone somewhat sleepy. "Forty minutes ago."

"Forty?" you repeat, lifting your head from his chest, trying to find signs of a lie on his face. "What have you even been doing for forty minutes?"

He hesitates, the corners of his lips tilting back up into a soft grin. "Listening to you."