#matt murdock x sweetheart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

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MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months ago

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You Promised

Pairing: husband!Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/tags: 18+; shower smut, oral m!receiving, that damn crucifix necklace, and a little bit of choking

Summary: Matt is a giver, he always has been. He's also terrible when it comes to asking for what he wants–but that changes tonight.

a/n: I was inspired by the Born Again trailer shower scene, like everyone else, but I tried to resist writing anything with all the smut already coming out. But after poor Matt was pleasuring everyone else in showers all week, I figured he needed his turn in the shower. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Hot steam filled the air around you, fogging up the glass of the shower door. Only half of you remained beneath the spray of the showerhead as warm, wet droplets trailed down your back in rivulets. A chill seeped into you from the inside out at the contrast of Matt's damp and slightly cool body pressed to the front of yours.

Matt was usually always so deliciously warm, but the difference in temperature between him and the water cascading down the back of you had long since caused your nipples to stiffen. With your breasts currently crushed against his firm chest, you knew that sensation alone was driving him wild because you knew how much he enjoyed toying with your nipples–with either his mouth or his fingers. But tonight you were aiming to do more than just drive him wild; you wanted him to fall apart. You wanted him to stand there with his back against the tiled wall of the shower while he let you take care of him. You wanted to hear him crying out in ecstasy like he always made you, and you wanted him to be the one to vocalize what he wanted for once–what he needed.

Because after all, he'd promised you that tonight.

Mouth attached to his neck, you sensually sucked at the skin just below his jaw. It was a spot that you knew from past experience always had an effect on him, which was proven when he loosed a soft whimper just above your ear. The noise drew your lips into a smile against him, releasing the skin from your mouth before shifting over towards the chain of his crucifix. You nipped at the sensitive skin above it with your teeth, satisfied when his head finally dropped back against the shower wall behind him with a groan, giving you further access to his neck. Your tongue slid out between your lips, the tip of it dragging along him, teasing him as you tasted the bit of salty sweat still lingering on his skin from his night out in the suit.

As your mouth paid careful attention to his neck, your left hand continued to attentively roam his body. It traveled up through the hair along his forearm, the tips of your nails catching the fine, dark hairs beneath them before dragging their way past his bicep and towards his toned chest still slick from the shower's spray. But your right hand remained busy brushing across the dampened and sensitive skin just above his cock, right at the start of where his thick, dark pubic hair formed. You'd been intentionally making slow passes from left to right and back again with your flattened palm for a few minutes now, your mouth trailing slow, tender kisses that followed the length of the gold chain as you took your time.

Matt's cock had long since stirred awake beneath your attention. It had been noticeably pressing harder and harder into your thigh, begging you not to be ignored. But that's exactly what you were doing right now. Because Matt was supposed to be telling you what he wanted tonight–learning to say what he needed instead of always giving and giving. You wanted him to learn that he could also take.

This was about him.

“Sweetheart,” Matt whispered. “Please?”

Nuzzling your face into his neck, you brushed your nose back and forth along his pulse point. You weren't going to make this easy for him because he needed to learn to use his words and verbalize what he wanted. You wanted to hear him say it for once; he needed to learn once and for all that he was allowed to want things too.

Matt's hands which had been settled along your hips suddenly gripped the damp flesh when the tip of your nose bumped into his jaw, his hands yanking you somehow closer to him. A shudder ran up your spine in response, goosebumps dotting your skin as the warm water overhead continued to race down your back. His tight hold on you had felt good, reminding you of all the times he'd bent you over the back of the leather couch or the bed as he fucked you with such vigorous fervor. Wetness that had nothing to do with the shower dripped down between your thighs.

But he wasn't supposed to be doing that to you.

“Matty,” you warned. “You promised, remember?”

“But sweetheart,” Matt protested, his voice pitching up into a whine. “I can't. I just–just need to taste you. Let me taste you, please, angel?”

You withdrew your face from his neck, your right hand pausing its movement above the patch of his damp pubic hair and instead resting along his skin. “What you need to do is let me take care of you, Matt,” you reminded him. “This isn't about me. You're supposed to be telling me what you want tonight.”

A defeated groan flew from his lips, his head once more falling back against the tiled wall behind himself as he loosened his grip on your hips, his blunt nails no longer deliciously biting into your skin. You felt an uncontrollable heat stir inside of you at the sight of him before you now, though. His eyes were closed, his bearded jaw tensed as he clearly fought his own urge to push you back into the tile instead. You had no doubt he was struggling with the increasing scent of your arousal filling the shower. You knew the effect it always had on him. But you didn't want him between your thighs like that, not tonight.

“That's it, Matty,” you praised, enjoying the way the corners of his lips twitched. “That's my good Devil.”

You leaned back in towards his neck, placing a soft kiss just below his jaw. You felt a shudder race through him, a faint whimper slipping out between his lips.

“Now tell me–” you whispered into his skin, moving your mouth lower to place a gentle kiss at the base of his throat, “–what you want.”

Your mouth moved lower, taking the gold crucifix between your teeth and giving it a light tug along his neck. Glancing up, the gold cross still between your teeth, you were pleased to see his eyes had tightened further shut. He was going to cave soon, you could feel it in the way his muscles had tensed against the front of your body. Your right hand dipped a bit lower, the tips of your fingers brushing lightly past the base of his cock.

“Touch me,” he begged, finally breaking. “I need you to touch me, sweetheart. Please.”

Dropping the crucifix from your teeth, it fell back onto his chest just as your right hand gripped the girth of him. A satisfied smile spread across your lips as you gazed back at Matt. His eyes had opened, their focus somewhere just past your shoulder as a flush crept into his cheeks. Your hand began to stroke him, thumb intentionally circling the tip of him when you’d reached it.

“This good, Matty?” you whispered.

“A little faster,” he replied, voice tight.

Following his instruction, your hand quickened its pace, your thumb occasionally pausing to circle the sensitive spot along his head. It wasn’t long before a deep rumble vibrated straight from his chest and right into yours. You felt your cunt pathetically squeeze around air, a thrill shooting through you. Matt’s bottom lip immediately caught between his teeth as he attempted to stifle a soft cry that still managed to escape his mouth. You knew he'd heard that and you knew he was struggling to refrain from slipping his fingers inside of you in return. Instead, his hands had once more increased their pressure against your hips, the heat of them hard to ignore as they nearly burned your skin.

“What else do you want, Matthew?” you questioned.

Your hand continued to stroke his cock as you waited for his reply. With every few pumps of your fist around him, you caught the way his hips would occasionally jolt forward into you. A pleased hum sounded in your throat. This was getting closer to what you'd wanted to see.

“Kiss me,” he ordered.

Without wasting a second, your other hand left its place along his chest and grabbed him by the chin. You tugged him towards yourself, connecting your lips to his in a heated passion. The beard he’d recently grown and you’d quickly come to love pleasantly scratched against you as your mouths moved in sync, the feeling beginning to drive you a little over the edge. As if he could tell, Matt’s mouth began attacking yours more earnestly, a low moan sliding into your mouth when your tongue slid into his.

The kiss quickly grew into something desperate, growing need causing Matt to begin roughly biting at your lips with his teeth. Taking cues from the way he’d begun rutting forward into your hand, you increased the pace with which you continued to work him over. But when your thumb swiped across the sensitive tip of his cock this time, Matt broke away from your lips and another deep moan barrelled straight out of his chest, echoing around the tiles of the shower.

“Ah–fuck ,” Matt ground out between his teeth. “Need more.”

Breathing hard, your eyes met his darkened ones. His chest was heaving against yours, his own breath coming in sharp pants now. His gaze was fixed around your chin, a fierce look of desire burning inside of them. You relished the sight of it because this was a Matt you had not often seen before.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered. “Go on.”

“Mouth,” he nearly growled out. “Your mouth.”

“Like this?” you asked, feigning innocence.

You leaned down towards his collarbone, dragging the flat of your tongue across the length of it as your right hand finally came to a stop. Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you watched as his eyelids fluttered, a muscle tensing in his cheek.

“Or like this?” you breathed out.

Trailing a few open-mouthed kisses just a bit further down, you paused to clamp your teeth onto part of his chest, right beside his nipple. A hiss of pleasure shot out between Matt’s teeth in response and you grinned at the sound.

“Is that what you meant, Matt?” you asked coyly.

You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his head shaking once.

“No,” he ground out.

“Then Matty–” your tongue delicately swiped at his hardened nipple, your pleased smile growing when he squirmed against you, “–say it.”

“Sweetheart,” he whined in protest. “Don’t you want me to get you off? Wouldn’t–wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying this plenty,” you assured him.

His eyes snapped shut when your lips sucked his nipple into your mouth next, your tongue swirling around the peak. You could feel his cock throbbing in your right hand where it had remained motionless, waiting for him to finally say what you knew he wanted. For a minute he remained silent instead, continuing to squirm against the shower wall as you lapped at his nipple. Eventually a string of curses passed his lips in a rush the moment your teeth raked over him.

“I want your mouth on my cock,” he growled out, his voice bordering on the Devil’s deep snarl. “I want you swallowing my cum.”

Releasing his nipple from your mouth, you shot him a satisfied smile as you gradually began to lower to your knees before him in the shower. Dragging the nails of your left hand down his torso as you went, you delighted in the way his abdominal muscles twitched at your touch.

“There you go, Matty,” you purred. “There’s my big bad Devil.”

Sitting on your knees, you were finally face to face with Matt’s erect cock. Hands running up and down his thick thighs, you licked your lips in anticipation as you admired the sight before you. He rarely ever let you suck his cock because he was always too busy fucking you with it if his mouth wasn’t damn near glued to your cunt. But now it was all yours to enjoy, and you were going to revel in every sound that passed his beautiful lips as you did.

Right hand gripping the base of him, you leaned forward and lightly circled your tongue around the tip. Above you, Matt emitted a throaty groan, the sound raising the small hairs on the back of your neck. Refraining from lunging forward and taking him all at once, you licked up the length of him painfully slow with the flat of your tongue, wondering just how good that had felt with his senses when his head slammed back into the shower wall with a soft thump as he inhaled sharply between his teeth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted out. “Don’t stop.”

As you continued to lightly lick up the length of him, Matt’s breathing began to fill the shower as it came in sharper and faster. The sound was unexpectedly building the heat between your legs, your left hand unable to resist slipping between your thighs. Eyes slowly closing, two of your own fingers began circling your clit, your back arching at the jolt of pleasure that raced up your spine. No longer able to resist, you took him into your mouth, a soft moan vibrating around his cock.

You felt something brush gently against your cheek and your eyelids fluttered back open. Once more looking up from beneath your lashes, you saw Matt’s head had tilted forward along the tiled wall. He was staring down at you with hooded eyes and a crease between his dark brows as his hand tenderly stroked your cheek while you sucked his cock.

“Are you–touching–yourself?” he asked between heavy breaths.

Unable to respond verbally, you hummed in answer. A sharp whine fell out of Matt next, your fingers increasing their pressure against yourself as you observed his reaction. Focusing your attention on the head of his cock, you felt Matt’s hand slide its way down your cheek and past your jaw until it encircled your neck. He squeezed with just enough pressure for you to feel it, a resounding growl filling the steamy shower as he did.

“Put two fingers inside of yourself,” he suddenly ordered. “Now.”

A ripple of satisfaction flooded you. Obeying his command, you slid your fingers between your damp folds before slipping them inside of yourself.

“I want to hear you–” he broke on a moan, his head once more falling back against the shower wall. “Want to hear you fuck yourself with them.”

Kneeling on the floor at Matt’s feet, you continued to suck his cock with a renewed enthusiasm while your fingers began to pump in and out of yourself, the wet sound loud even to your own ears. You could tell Matt was getting close now by the way his thighs had begun to shake and how frequently you’d started hearing his broken whines above you. The walls of your cunt tightened around your fingers at that knowledge, another one of your moans vibrating around his cock.

“Ahh–” he hissed out. “Can almost taste you from here.”

“Mmm,” you hummed in answer, aware how much he always enjoyed the vibration.

“Shitshitshit,” Matt breathed out in an unbroken string immediately. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that. I'm–almost there.”

You continued to pump your fingers faster into yourself, your own legs trembling along the floor of the shower. Matt's hips began to visibly fight the urge to rock forward into you, causing you to take him further into your mouth with a pleased hum.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groaned, his voice breaking on each word. “Just–like– that!”

On the final word, you felt Matt’s warm release flood your mouth. Not remotely letting up as a high-pitched, drawn out cry flew out of him, his hand still gripping your neck, you worked him through the rest of his climax. Greedily you swallowed down every salty bit of him like you’d been starved for the taste. You weren’t sure when he’d allow you the pleasure of this again, and that thought had you soon cumming on your own fingers, one last pleasured moan vibrating along him as he filled your mouth.

When both of you were finally spent, a haze of contentment washed over you along with the warm shower spray. Slipping your fingers out from inside yourself, you released his cock from your mouth with a soft, wet noise. Licking your lips, your attention returned to Matt’s face above you, and you were delighted to find a blissful, pacified smile drawn over his own lips.

“So, was that worth keeping your promise?” you asked him.

“Mmm,” he hummed back, nodding his head sluggishly. “Mhmm. Maybe I should promise that more often.”

“You absolutely should,” you agreed.

Slowly rising back up to your feet, you felt satisfied to see the way he was leaning back against the wall behind himself–as if he needed it to help hold himself upright. After his night out as Daredevil and that explosive release he'd just had, you figured he probably did.

“But I think now,” you continued, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him away from the wall and into your arms, “you’ve earned your shower and some sleep. What do you think?”

Matt’s arms encircled your waist in return, his forehead coming to rest lightly against yours as the pair of you both now stood beneath the showerhead. He bumped his nose affectionately against yours, his tired smile growing further.

“I think that sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Murdock,” he whispered.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ethereal-blaze @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 23 days ago

Text

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 1

(Eventual) Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

gif by me

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

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

wc: 2,144

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

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

17 more seconds.

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

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

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

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

There couldn’t be any way.

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

You held it with both hands in front of you.

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

Shit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A few weeks earlier

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

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

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

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

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

“Quit bein’ difficult baby.” he commanded

Baby.

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

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

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

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

That did it.

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

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

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

I love you

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

Shut up, brain.

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

“You good?” he inquired

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

“So good, Frankie.”

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

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

I love you.

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

The conversation.

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

“Stay put. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, after tonight, your second favorite thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart… I…” he stumbled

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

“No, hey. It’s just—”

You cut him off.

“Your dead wife.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry.”

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

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

“I know, I know. But, baby,”

Stop fucking calling me that.

“You’re just too damn good.”

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

“It ain’t a lie though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

But, you resisted.

“I should go.”

“No, no. Hey.”

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

“Stay? Just for tonight?”

Those goddamn brown eyes.

“Okay.” you contested

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

next chapter

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atrwriting · 20 days ago

Text

beneath -- matt murdock x you

what's up whores back with another porn no plot one shot

as always, warnings: smut, soft dom matt, sub reader, p in v penetration, swearing, oral, soft choking

happy reading >:]

he liked you beneath him.

matt murdock didn't have a lot of control in his life, as he felt like he was always one step behind everyone else -- trying to keep up with something that was easier for everyone else. his mask also was a constant reminder of this as he felt that, for his safety and those he loved, he could never show how capable he truly was. no matter what, he was always keeping a part of himself hidden -- burdened by the greater good, which always seemed to be present and always seemed to be to his detriment.

and that's why he liked you beneath him.

sex with you was the one place he didn't have to hide his strength like in his day to day life, nor his weaknesses when he wore the mask -- he could just be himself. he liked control, and he loved when you lost it.

matt wasn't into chains and whips, no -- and he'd probably laugh curiously if anyone had shown their spark of interest to him. nothing against it, he'd say, because how could he tell them the truth? how could he tell regular people what truly excited him? to use these hands, muscles, and skills for good? bringing someone to the brink of pleasure and holding them there until they begged him to stop? what really interested matt was how comfortable he felt letting every single part that he usually kept hidden shine in those small moments of intimacy.

he never had to open your thighs for him, no -- they always slid open just enough for him to fit snug against you before you would lock your ankles at his lower back. the soft tug from your heels would pull him into you, eliciting a moan and a roll of his hips from him. he couldn't see your face -- how your eyelashes would flutter closed when he touched you, how the heat would spread across your cheeks and the back of your neck when you could feel his breath, nor how the whites of your knuckles would show when you fisted the sheets when he was near. he couldn't see any of that, unfortunately -- but he could feel it.

with you beneath him, he could feel every part of it.

"close your eyes, sweetheart," he would say.

and you would. you'd follow every direction he gave you if it meant he would slip his perfect fingers inside the lace of your panties.

once your eyes were closed, you tried to use your senses to sense other things. the light stubble on matt's face. the way his muscles felt especially taut. his aftershave. the mint on his breath. the deepness of his groans. the lightness of his small laughs. how his kisses felt. it was like matt wanted to overstimulate your senses, making sure you were driven as wild by him as he was driven by you. and with matt -- you let him. you let yourself be consumed by him. you let that control go, because no one had ever made you feel safer than in the moments beneath him.

and when he finally dipped his fingers inside you, you let out a small sigh of relief.

"yes..." you couldn't help but whine. "please, don't tease -- i can't take it today."

he ran two pads of his fingers up and down your slit. the friction was barely enough to satisfy you, but definitely enough to frustrate you with the lack of it. and when matt laughed, it was like he could feel the frustration building inside your chest. he could hear the frustrated sigh push past your lips, the frustrated tear begin to prick at your eyes, and the frustrated heat build on the back of your neck. it bit and it snapped at you, rabid in its hunger -- and matt could hear the battle in your heartbeat. again, he couldn't help but laugh.

"i can feel how stressed you are," he spoke evenly, despite the hidden tease in the meaning.

"i am," you huffed, trying to lean further into the movements of his fingers.

"we should take care of that, shouldn't we?"

and take of that he did.

you kept your eyes closed, and your fists wrapped in the sheets. matt had one forearm placed beside you, holding up his weight. every so often his skin would brush against you, and you cold feel the power in those muscles. the strength. the talent. the capability. matt murdock was a fucking wonder and you were amazed at how you were so lucky to be in the position you were with him. he had shoved two fingers inside you, twisting his wrist so he could also use his thumb to rub those circles you loved so much. his fingers were coaxing your upper wall, finding the spot that made you melt in his hands. he felt you squirming underneath him, and a coy smile took over his features. neither of you could see his smile, but you both knew it was there. matt's cockiness. ugh -- it drove you wild. you had grabbed onto his neck for dear life, unable to do anything besides take everything he gave you from beneath him.

"thaaat's it," he would speak, after you would begin to let out strangled whines for him. "that's it. feels so much better, doesn't it?"

"yes, matt --" you'd cry. "please -- you can't stop."

"i wouldn't," he stated. "not when I can feel how close you are. still got those eyes closed for me, sweetheart?"

"yes, i promise," you sobbed, trying to still the stirring of your hips. you could lie, sure -- because who wouldn't want to stare at matt murdock in all of his glory? -- but something about the trust and the intimacy of the moment was so perfect, so sexy that you couldn't help but want to give over that control to him. it was his, all his, and no one else's. no one would ever treat it with such care, let alone be as deserving of it as matt was. "it just feels s-so good matt. i don't know how much longer i can take it..."

"shhh," he cooed. "i know you can. i'll make it better. take it, sweetheart."

"fuck --" you sobbed, pushing your forehead into the crook of his neck.

with his forearm still balanced on the bed, he grabbed your hair to pull your neck taut enough to hold you close to him. he had locked your hips with his, keeping you still and open just for him. matt and everything about him drove you wild -- wild to the point where you couldn't help but be frustrated and in need of release. but when he had you here? beneath him? giving you everything you needed? taking everything he needed? you couldn't help but let him take over all of your senses.

and when you came, every muscle of yours contracted. he held you as still as possible so he could feel every movement. he wanted to feel the jerk in your hips. he wanted to feel how your calves shook. he wanted to feel how you upper body went tight, and how your little strangled breaths felt against the skin of his neck. the smell of your arousal hung in the air, and he took in the deepest of breaths.

"all mine," he would say, before he slid one of his talented fingers into his mouth.

you would open your eyes, then -- just a tad, because you couldn't help it. you witnessed as matt's lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking in the tanginess of your essence. you stared in awe at hi beautiful face, finally able to witness that coy smile. heat once again reclaimed your cheeks, but not from embarassment -- from want and need. from his and yours.

"please," you would plead, even though you had no strength left.

he flipped you over then, onto your stomach. you tried to maneuver, but he wouldn't let you. he would press his front to your back, and slide inside you. you both let out a strangled gasp, unable to fight the demand of the sensation.

you would have to be the one to grab his arm and force him to wrap it around your neck. he secretly loved it, and you know knew that, but you also knew he was never comfortable being the first to ask for it.

every thrust was a tease. matt could fuck you both into the wall, as anyone knew how much power he had behind those hips. but no, matt murdock was a rat bastard through and through -- and he wanted to make you work for it.

"too much, sweetheart?" he'd groan into your ear, letting his length rock back in forth inside you.

"not enough," you spat through gritted teeth.

"oh, really?"

every thrust was a punishment then. with one arm, he held your hips upward so his length could hit that perfect spot inside you. stars was all you saw as you struggled for breath. each thrust reminded you that matt murdock was not to be underestimated, nor messed with. you could feel how you clamped around him, trying with every reflex and bit of strength you had left to keep him inside you. every thrust of his was a show of dominance -- matt controlled you, and all you could do was take it.

nothing had felt so good as when he began to groan into your ear, making the hairs on the bac of your neck stand up. you would shiver at the feeling of his stubble across your cheek, loving how he felt against you. and when he would slip a thumb into your mouth for you to suck on, to keep you anchored? oh, both of you were done for.

thrust. "so." thrust. "fucking." thrust. "good."

"please, matt --" you whined. "i want you to come for me."

"fuck..." he would grunt, before he adjusted the both of you.

with one arm still cradling your neck, the other slipped between the both of you. he found your clit once more, and drew the roughest, sloppiest circles he could. every circle and every thrust he gave you was just another reminder that only matt murdock knew your body this well. he could hear every thrum and vibration of every heartbeat, pump of blood, and breath you took. and you fucking loved it.

you closed your lips, wanting to keep the sob of pleasure hidden from it.

"that's it, sweetheart," he'd grunt. "i'm so close --"

and when he would bite down on your shoulder, you were through.

a loud scream would rip through you as you pushed your face into the pillow. so muffled the neighbors couldn't hear, but matt could. oh, matt definitely could. it racked through him like fuel, pumping his primal blood so full until all he could do was empty himself inside you. he held onto you as his hips stuttered as your cries filled the room. throbbing was all he felt as your walls clenched around him, and his length pumped you full of him.

"so pretty for me -- like this," he'd speak as he came down from his high, you still drunk on yours. you'd feel the calloused skin of his hands run across your skin, a comfort he wanted to provide but it only made you shiver in excitement and overstimulation. "all for me. you're stuck with me, sweetheart."

----

im so obsessed with this man - L xoxo

#matt murdock #matt murderdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil born again #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfiction

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marvel-spidey · 12 days ago

Text

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After a difficult night on patrol, Matt comes back home feeling like he can't do it alone. Luckily, you're there to remind him that he doesn't have to. Inspired by the song "Safe and Sound", by Taylor Swift. You can listen to it here.

Warnings: Mentions of a mild panic attack. Besides that, just a lot of comfort <3

A/n: I've been rewatching Daredevil season 2 and this fic was created out of the pure and irrational urge that I have to protect and comfort this man at all costs. Also, this is my first time writing for Matt. Enjoy! - - - -

New York City felt different that night. Noisier. Louder. Matt sensed it the moment he went outside the rooftop exit of his apartment. Sirens wailed in the distance, coming from every direction, their urgency bleeding into the restless city. Screams, footsteps quickly pounding against the pavement. The sounds echoed off the buildings, rattling through the streets like a warning, setting him on edge before he even reached the ground.

He knew the city would need him that night. Nights like these reminded him why he did what he did, why he had to leave you behind, even though it crushed him every time. He knew you always waited up for him, no matter how many times he begged you not to. He knew you couldn’t sleep until he came back, because you worried, not just if he’d return in one piece, but if he’d return at all.

He hated the nights he came back hurt, knowing how scared you got at the sight of his bloody suit or the open cuts on his skin. He could always hear the trembling in your hands when you stitched him up, even though you tried so hard to hide it behind a reassuring smile. But he was so proud of you. You were getting good at this. And more than anything, he was grateful. Grateful that you were there every night, waiting for him. Grateful that, no matter how brutal the city was, he had a home to return to.

He went out that night, already anxious to return. To your touch, to your scent, to your voice, the few things that always brought him back when everything became too overwhelming.

You watched him disappear through the little upstairs window, whispering a silent prayer to whatever God was listening to bring him back safe. You did it every night.

Pulling your blanket up to your neck, you adjusted yourself on the couch and put on an episode of Friends, hoping it would distract you from the worry. It usually worked. When you started to doze off, you got up to make yourself a cup of tea, a way to keep your body moving before sleep fully took over. Some nights, it was exhausting trying to stay awake. But you did it anyway. Because you wanted Matt to know that when he came home, there was someone to clean his bruises, to stitch his cuts, to help him out of the suit when his body was too sore to do it himself.

After two cups of chamomile tea, countless Candy Crush matches and several Friends episodes, you were startled by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the upstairs area of the apartment. You let out a quiet sigh, relieved that at least he was back. You shifted your body into a sitting position, ready to examine his every movement and assess how bad the damage was tonight.

You watched Matt come down the stairs in silence, his red suit reflecting the purple glow of the obnoxious billboard outside. You waited for the usual “I’m back, sweetheart” he always said to you, but tonight, there was nothing. Only the sound of his boots against the floor. You noticed that his head hung slightly low, shoulders tense, plump lips pressed into a firm line. Even with his helmet on, you could still see it, the tension in his face, the weight he carried.

Something was wrong.

He muttered a low “I’m back, you can go to sleep”, offering you a forced smile before crossing the living room and heading straight to the bathroom. He usually showered right after patrol, but tonight, your gut told you to follow him.

You slowly got up from the couch and made your way to the bathroom, bracing yourself for whatever you might have to deal with. You just hoped he wasn’t seriously injured and trying to play it off like it was nothing, because that wouldn’t be the first time.

Standing in the doorway, you quietly observed Matt in the dark bathroom. Only a faint neon light seeping through the small window. He stood at the sink, both arms braced against the counter, head hanging low. His breaths were deeper than usual, like he was trying to calm himself down. He was still in full gear, the red uniform clinging to his tired body.

“Matt”, you said softly, careful not to startle him. “Is everything alright, honey?”

He took a slow, deep breath, exhaling through his mouth before answering.

"Yes, sweetie," he replied, offering you another half-smile. "I'm okay. I'm just…" he paused, gripping the sink harder. "The city was so loud tonight. So many people needed help, and I- I couldn’t get to everyone. I couldn’t-"

You sensed his anxiety and immediately stepped into the bathroom, placing a gentle hand on the exposed part of his face, in an attempt to ground him. You had seen this before. He was overwhelmed and overstimulated, both by his heightened senses and his emotions.

"Hey, how about we take that suit off?" you suggested, gently guiding his face toward yours. "You'll be more comfortable." Slowly, you lifted the helmet from his head, feeling the heat of his skin, his body still in panic mode.

His hair was a mess, and you smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips.

"There we go," you whispered as you pulled away. "Much better, isn’t it?"

He closed his eyes and took a breath again, unconsciously relaxing under your touch.

You helped him out of his boots and unzipped the rest of the suit until he was left in just his black boxers. Tossing the uniform onto the bathroom floor, you noticed his breathing was still heavier than usual.

You took the opportunity and scanned his body, looking for any possible injuries. “Are you hurt?” you calmly asked him, worried if there was something you were not seeing.

"Not tonight," he replied, lifting his right hand to gently cup your face. You realized he didn’t want to talk, not right now. He just needed to feel you, feel your warmth and your skin, something real to ground himself.

You kissed the palm of his hand gently, trying to give him the physical comfort he needed right now. You took his other hand and placed it on your heart, knowing he was probably already focusing on its rhythm anyways. He always told you he liked listening to your heartbeat, that the steady sound calmed him like nothing else.

“It’s okay, Matt. You’re here, you’re home” you murmured, hoping to help his body understand that whatever had happened out there was over now. His palm was warm against your chest, and you placed your hand over his. You watched as he closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the noise, both outside and inside his head.

"Is my heart beating fast or slow?" you asked, using the familiar tactic of simple questions to help pull him away from his anxiety.

“Slow”, he answered, with his usually velvety voice.

"Can you feel how warm my skin is?"

"Warm... and soft. As usual," he said, his large hand grazing your collarbone before trailing up to your neck. His sweet comment made you smile.

You took a small step closer, lifting your hand to trace the shape of his nose. With your index finger, you touched his forehead, then slowly ran it down the bridge of his nose until you reached the tip. You always did this when he couldn’t sleep, or when you just wanted him to feel relaxed. Now, you hoped the familiar gesture would help him relax enough to talk. As much as he seemed a little calmer, you still needed to know, what had happened tonight? What had left him so overwhelmed?

"Do you feel better?" you asked softly, still tracing his nose before slipping your arms around his neck.

"A little, yes. Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands settling gently on your waist.

"Did something happen tonight? You don’t have to go into details, but you know I can’t help but worry about you out there."

You recalled what he had said moments ago, how the city had been especially loud, with too many cries for help at once, and how he hadn’t been able to answer them all. You could already guess he was drowning in guilt, as usual, but you needed to make sure there wasn’t something more.

He directed his gaze somewhere close to your chin, taking a few moments before answering, trying to gather his thoughts into something that would make at least a little sense to you.

You placed a gentle hand on the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, a silent reassurance that you were here, listening to whatever he had to say.

"The city was so loud tonight, (Y/n). It always is, but tonight... It was too much. Sirens, gunshots, screams, everywhere. Women screaming, children screaming, all at once. Every time I tried to focus on one direction, there was another cry for help pulling me somewhere else”

You felt his heart starting to race again, and you put one of your hands on his chest, trying to remind him that he didn’t need to continue.

"There was a woman getting beat up by her husband while her little boy watched, begging his father to stop," he continued, his voice heavy. Even as you noticed his hazel eyes glossing over with unshed tears, you knew he needed to let it all out. For once.

Tears began to slip down his face, and you reached up to wipe one away with your fingers. It broke your heart to see him like this.

"At the same time, there was a girl being dragged into an alley because... because some lowlife decided her bag and her body were his to take." His voice wavered, frustration and sorrow mixing in his expression as more tears fell.

You cried with him, heartbroken by all this weight he carried alone.

"How am I supposed to make a choice like that?" he asked, his voice cracking, though it felt more like he was questioning God than you. His face was soaked with tears.

"How am I supposed to choose who gets help and who doesn’t? Who lives and who dies? I’m just one man! I can’t decide that. I can’t."

"Matt," you interrupted softly, cupping his face between your hands. "Matt, listen to me." You wiped his tears away with your fingertips, though your own vision was blurred by your own.

"Yes, you’re just one man. A man that has the kindest, most selfless heart I have ever known. You risk your life for people you don’t even know, do you hear me?"

His body shook with silent sobs, his head hanging low as he finally let all of his guilt and sorrow spill out. It hurt to see him like this, but you knew it was necessary.

"Listen to me," you urged again, tilting his face up to meet yours. "You’re not out there to make impossible choices, you’re out there to do what you can. It is your purpose, and you already give more than your best. All these scars on your body? They’re proof of that, Matt."

This time, it was Matt who wiped your tears, his silent way of thanking you for saying what he so desperately needed to hear.

"I’m here every night stitching you up, disinfecting your wounds, icing your bruises. So if anyone can say that what you do is more than enough, it’s me, okay? Please don’t take this burden on alone, it's too much for anyone to carry."

Matt pulled you into the tightest hug, burying his face in your hair as if he could physically hold onto your words and make them real. You held him close, rubbing slow circles on his back until his breathing steadied and his tears finally slowed.

“It’s over now, okay? This night is over and you did the best you could.” You made sure to remind him, while smoothing his messy hair to the side. “I know, but.. even here, even now, I can still hear the city. It doesn’t stop.” His voice was low, exhausted.

You took one of his hands in yours, pressing a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles. "So what do you need from me, Matt?" you asked gently. "Tell me."

He was quiet for a moment, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a second longer than usual.

“Will you sing to me?” he questioned shyly, facing you with the most loving look on his eyes. The request surprised you, but more than anything, you felt honored that he trusted you enough to ask for this.

"You know I love your voice," he added, while holding your chin. He was trying to make you feel less self-conscious, which he knew was how you felt every time he asked you to sing more around him.

You let out a small, fond sigh, while taking him by the hand. "Oh, what I wouldn’t do for you, Murdock… Come here."

You led him to your shared bed, climbing in first and urging Matt to follow. Noticing the exhaustion on his face, you felt reassured that bringing him to bed had been the right choice. You hoped to soothe him enough for sleep to finally take over.

“Come here,” you called softly, patting the spot beside you. You sat upright, your back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Without hesitation, he lay down next to you, instinctively resting his head against your chest.

He inhaled deeply, taking advantage of the position to drown himself in your scent. He rested his arms around your waist and back, feeling the silky touch of your summer pajama set. You always made sure to wear clothes that were gentle on his senses.

“You comfortable?” you asked, making sure the position was good for both of you. You could already feel the weight of his muscles relaxing against you.

He only answered with a groan, indicating that he was so comfortable he didn’t even want to speak. Words felt unnecessary, just being there, feeling your warmth and steady heartbeat, was enough.

“What song should I sing?”

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

You searched your mind for a song that could show him everything you felt, but could rarely say it to him. A melody that could show him how your heart ached in your chest every time he stumbled through that door battered and burdened, or every time he blamed himself because he wasn’t fast enough to save someone who needed his help. You wanted him to know that if you could, you would shield him from it all, the same way he so desperately tried to shield this city. He was always the protector, always the one worrying, always the one putting himself between the world and its darkness. You wanted to do the same for him, to take even a fraction of his pain, to be his refuge the same way he was for you and for so many other people throughout Hell’s Kitchen.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. Your fingers absentmindedly ran through Matt’s hair, feeling the soft strands beneath your touch. You knew he was waiting, waiting for your voice, for the comfort he had asked for but rarely allowed himself to receive.

So you sang.

I remember tears streaming down your face When I said I'll never let you go When all those shadows almost killed your light

Your voice was soft, a whisper against the noise of the city outside.

I remember you said don’t leave me here alone But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight

You lowered your head, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, a silent reassurance, a vow without words. His arms tightened ever so slightly around you, as if grounding himself in the warmth of your presence.

Then, softly, you continued into the chorus.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light You and I’ll be safe and sound

Your fingers traced soothing patterns along his back, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. His grip on you loosened just a little, the tension in his muscles melting away with every note that left your lips. You felt Matt’s lips press against your collarbone in a quiet, wordless thank you.

Don’t you dare look out your window Darling, everything’s on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on

You continued, raising your hand to caress the stubble on his face, tracing every line of his features. It wasn’t often that you got to admire him like this, without the bruises and blood demanding your attention. Just him, safe in your arms.

Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, down to his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory. The way his eyelashes fluttered slightly at your touch, the way his lips parted just the slightest as he melted further into you.

For now, he wasn’t Daredevil. He wasn’t a hero burdened with impossible choices. He was just Matt, your Matt. And you would hold him for as long as he needed.

Hold on to this lullaby Even when the music’s gone Gone

The steady rhythm of your fingers through his hair guided him away from the chaos of the city.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now

At this point you realized he was starting to drift off to sleep. You adjusted the blankets around the two of you, making sure his exposed back was covered. You felt the rise and fall of his chest begin to slow, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away beneath your touch. His arms remained around you, looser now, more trusting, like his body had finally surrendered to rest.

Your fingers found their way back to his hair, lazily brushing through the dark strands as your song faded into silence. Outside, the city murmured like it always did. Distant sirens, cars, honks, but in your shared little world, everything was still.

“You still with me?” you whispered, not expecting an answer.

No answer. Just his breath, calm and deep. He was finally asleep. You looked down at his peaceful features and smiled with a tenderness that welled up from the deepest parts of your chest.

“I’ve got you, Matt. Always.” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, like sealing a promise with your lips.

You then rested your head back against the pillows, your arms still wrapped around him. His warmth and his scent lingered in the air around you, grounding you just as you had grounded him. Outside, the familiar sounds of Hell’s Kitchen filtered through the windows. You hated it for all the ways it hurt him. You loved it for all the ways it had led him to you.

With his steady breath against your skin, the weight of him safe in your arms, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

For now, he was here. For now, he was safe. And that was enough.

Thanks for reading! Feedback and comments are always welcome! ❤️

#matt murdock #daredevil #matthew murdock #ddba #ddba spoilers #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock comfort #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader

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kisspotion · 14 days ago

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matt murdock x you | a post-deviling return to you | complete sweetness

a/n: couldn’t shake the classic thought of matt returning home and finding you sleeping on the couch waiting for him, so here’s my take!

matt hated it. hated hearing your evened out heartbeat paired with slow breathing coming from the couch as you waited for him. it had been months since he revealed his secret to you and each night he came home with nothing more but a couple scratches. proving that since falling in love, he’s been extra cautious. nonetheless, you could never fall asleep peacefully in bed—not without the reassurance of his warmth beside you.

he slipped the daredevil mask off his face the moment his tired legs carried him through the fire exist. his heart tore into ribbons when he approached your sleeping body, a singular ungloved hand reaching out and feeling the denim fabric that hugged your hips. you hadn’t even changed into comfortable clothes. how long had you been sleeping there, anxiously waiting?

fingertips traveled up your body, grazing over the soft knitted cardigan until meeting your hair. a strand fell over your eyes and matt was quick to tuck it behind your ear, not wanting it to be a threat to your sleep.

kneeling before your sleeping figure, matt shut his eyes and absorbed everything around him, his own chest falling into a slow breathing motion. you’d seen him do it before after returning home from saving the city, assuming it was a way for him to shake off all he had done or witnessed just moments before. his way of letting go of the devil and crawling back to you, as matthew murdock.

moments passed before he felt ready to shed the roughness of his other half. before guilt began to creep in, prodding his heart as he wondered why he was still allowing for you to sleep uncomfortably on the couch. not to mention the jeans.

he debated on how to wake you without startling you with his red armor-clad chest being right at eye your level. matt settled for a gentle hand squeezing your shoulder softly until your eyelashes fluttered open ever so slightly.

“it’s me, sweetheart.” he whispered so quietly, so gently. it was a stark contrast to the harsh red that filled your vision until you found his comforting, familiar brown eyes. all you could muster was a small, sleepy grunt. the sound made the sides of matt’s eyes crinkle as he chuckled. “c’mon, let’s head to bed and get comfortable.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil born again

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waywardxrhea · 7 months ago

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Seeing Other People - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader (descriptor of hair being long enough to run hands through and comb)

Your insecurities from the past come back to haunt you as you grapple with the paranoia that creeps into your mind when Matt suddenly starts ducking out on dates.

word count: 7,247

content: hurt/comfort, angst, anxiety, insecurity, panic attacks, language, mention of guns.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

now playing: Seeing Other People by Francis Karel and Maddie Zahm

"i've been seeing other people, all my ex's undertones / assuming i'll catch you in a lie, afraid to read what's on your phone / 'cause when i was seeing other people, i'm not the only one that they took home / now i don't trust so easily, even when i know you're not cheating / i'm the one who's seeing other people in you"

You had finished with your hair and makeup for your date with Matt half an hour ago and were patiently waiting for his call. He would always call to tell you he was on his way to whisk you away from your apartment for the evening, which was something you appreciated rather than being caught half ready. It had been a long week. You were looking forward to getting to relax into conversation with Matt and eventually into his strong arms by the end of the night. Matt had usually ended your dates either in his bedroom or on the couch cuddling, and those times were ones you cherished with your whole being. You would never take them for granted. The moments of intimacy were ones you looked forward to more than anything and were something you were desperately craving after the hellish week you’d had at work.

Getting lost in your thoughts of cuddling Matt, you nearly didn’t hear your phone ringing quietly beside you on the couch. When it finally registered in your ears, you fumbled to pick it up before it hung itself up, answering with a quick, “Matt! Hey!”

“Hey sweetheart,” came Matt’s voice which you noted sounded a bit more gruff than usual. You heard a rustling in the background of the call as he continued with, “I, uh… I hate to tell you this but I have to cancel tonight’s date. I’m really sorry. Something came up with work that really needs my attention. Can we rain check?”

“Oh,” you said, feeling your body deflate into the couch cushion. Shaking away your suddenly spiking anxiety, you forced a chipperness into your voice as you told him, “That’s fine! I hope everything is okay. If I can help in any way just let me know, yeah?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he told you, a sense of relief evident in his tone.

There was a heavy thud on the other side of the line and your eyebrows furrowed together as you asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just dropped my briefcase, that’s all,” Matt told you. “Client seemed really anxious to speak with us as soon as possible, so I’m more clumsy than usual getting ready to head out.”

“Oh, I see. I’ll let you go then,” you said, in a quieter tone than you intended. “I love you. Talk later?”

“Talk later. I love you too,” he replied.

Matt hung up shortly after and tossed his phone onto his leather couch as he dashed up the stairs. He had suited up in his Daredevil suit in record time while he was on the phone with you. While he hated to cancel another date on you, there was a growing drug gang that he needed to stop before they took over the city. From the rumors he had heard, they were serious business and weren’t afraid to kill for territory. Having killers on his streets was the last thing he wanted. If the streets weren’t safe, then you weren't safe and your safety was not something he was willing to risk.

The crisp air of the city hit Matt as he bolted out of the rooftop access door. He tried to shove down his feelings of guilt surrounding canceling the date as he focused on the sounds of the city around him, trying to find one voice in particular. The voice he had overheard on his way to pick up lunch for himself, Foggy, and Karen the day before. He found it after a few moments, but before he could take off toward where the meeting was taking place, he hesitated. The hesitation was caused by hearing the soft sound of your crying in your apartment a couple blocks down. The sound tugged on Matt’s heartstrings and by instinct his body began gravitating toward your place to provide you comfort, but the sound of a cocking gun tore his ears away from your cries. Within an instant, Matt was on the move, vaulting across rooftops and traversing metal fire escapes to get to the meeting spot. He was racing to get there before the shot rang and a life was taken.

Back in your apartment, the mental turmoil you were experiencing was like a hurricane blowing through your mind with no end in sight. Your hands shook and your heart pounded in your ears as your breathing became shallow and tears blurred your vision. Old memories bombarded your mind, and you were sent back to a headspace that you never wanted to experience again. But, despite your best efforts, you have been… Over the last month or so your mind had slipped into old habits and you had begun to doubt your place in Matt’s life. Canceled plans led to harsh memories that you have tried to leave in your past. But, as you had started to feel more distance growing between yourself and Matt, you couldn’t help but have flashes of memories you thought you had shoved into the ‘forgotten’ box in your mind.

Without your permission, your emotions began to take over and you couldn’t escape the flurry of old memories intruding into your previously peaceful headspace. It was a dizzying feeling as you were bombarded with the memories of harshly spoken words and insults thrown in your direction. No matter how hard you tried to push the memories back they kept coming and soon you felt like you were thrown into the midst of an emotional storm that was pelting you from all sides. Tears began to freefall and test the integrity of your makeup, and you did your best to simply stay afloat as you attempted to find the eye of the storm within your mind. It took longer than you would have liked to admit, but after a few minutes of being bumped around by your painful past, you finally were able to center yourself and take the deep, calming breaths that would slow your heart rate.

As your body began to escape the unnecessary fight or flight mode the phone call with Matt had sent you into, you tried to rationalize his words now that your anxiety had had its turn at ravaging your body. You told yourself that the gruffness in his voice was likely from annoyance with the last minute client call. That the rustling in the background was simply him changing out of his jeans and henley and into a suit to meet with the client. That he truly had dropped his briefcase in his rush to make it to the meeting. There was no reason for you to think that he was with someone else when he called you. It was just fear and anxiety trying to make you self-sabotage. Again.

Taking one more deep breath, you stood up on shaking legs and made your way to the bathroom to remove your makeup. When you looked up at yourself you cringed when you saw how bloodshot your eyes had become from your crying. There were trails nearly barren of makeup that the tears left behind, but much to your surprise your eye makeup had held true to its promise of being waterproof. Your hair on the other hand was a different story. You had a bad habit of running your hands through it when you were stressed, so naturally after a breakdown like that it looked like a rat’s nest… Not wanting to look at yourself in that state any longer, you rid yourself of the makeup and combed through your hair so it wouldn’t be a tangled mess anymore.

As you did this though, you realized that the clothes you had put on for your date were suddenly obnoxious and irritating, causing your heart rate to spike with more anxiety with every move you made. So you quickly took them off and threw on a comfortable and ridiculously soft t-shirt and pajama pants in their wake. Your irritated senses were soothed once you were rid of all the nuisances and you made your way into the kitchen to make yourself a quick and comforting dish for dinner.

With your food balanced carefully on the armrest of the couch while you settled in, you decided to binge British baking shows in order to keep your mind off of things. The soothing accents and descriptions of baked goods would be a welcome distraction. You avoided thinking about the steady ache in your heart caused by the growing number of canceled dates, the descriptions of recipes and the monotonous routines falling like a warm blanket over your mind. They would also help in your attempt to fend off the old memories threatening to take hold of your thoughts once more. While it wasn’t the perfect solution to your problems, it was the best one you had. And, for now, it would have to do.

A week later you waited with bated breath, your heart pounding against your ribs, as the minutes ticked by before Matt would pick you up for your rain-check date. There was less effort put into your hair and makeup for the outing, your anxiety telling you the effort would be for naught, but you still deemed yourself presentable enough to feign confidence being next to someone as attractive as Matt. A sense of relief washed over you when you heard a gentle knock on your door. You let out a deep sigh, a smile painting your lips, as you made your way to the door.

When you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat like it always did when you saw Matt’s charming smile. He stood patiently in the hallway, waiting to take you on your date. “Hey, sweetheart,” Matt said before pulling you in for a kiss.

“Hey yourself,” you told him when he pulled away a few moments later. “How was work?”

“It was good. Got through the toughest part of the paperwork for the latest client,” he told you as you took your keys out of your purse to lock the door behind you. You wrapped your hand around his bicep and began leading him down the hall, the steady tapping of his cane a soothing and familiar rhythm as you walked. “We’re hoping that we could get the opposition to go in with a deal so it doesn’t have to go to court, but it’s looking like this is more complicated than we anticipated. The client is really worried about having to make an appearance, so it’s taking a lot of convincing from Karen to not just drop the case altogether.”

“Oh, that sounds tough, I’m sorry,” you told him as you hit the button to summon the elevator. Matt shrugged in response. It was simply something that came with the job and they were dealing.

“How was work for you?” Matt asked as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“It was fine. Nothing too crazy,” you replied. “I wish people in this city were a bit kinder, but…”

“Are you okay?” Matt asked quietly, the elevator coming to a stop at the bottom floor.

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing. Really. I just need to get tougher skin, that’s all,” you told him quickly, trying to brush away his concern. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Some customers just felt entitled to scream at you and come up with…colorful insults to hurl your way in response to you just doing your job. Matt had bigger fish to fry than that. He was under a lot of stress with this case, it sounded like, and you didn’t want your problems to needlessly occupy his mind.

“Where did you wanna go for dinner?” you asked as the two of you pushed through the front door. The usual sounds of the city bounced around you. Honking cars, scattered conversations, the usual hustle and bustle of good ‘ol New York. It was noisy, but it was home.

“I chose last time, did you have anything in mind?” Matt asked after a few moments of silence. He wondered why you were brushing off his attempts at conversation. He could tell that the question had caused a pang of anxiety to rise in you and he could smell the salt of tears building behind your eyes, but still you pushed the subject away. Why? You were usually fairly vocal about how work was, but lately you had started to close yourself off. It made Matt start to wonder what had set you off… Maybe your supervisor left or something like that. He would try and get to the bottom of that later.

His mind was dragged back into the conversation as you timidly said, “I don’t really have a preference, it’s whatever you wanna do.” You cleared your throat and asked, “What about that scratch made pizza place you mentioned wanting to try? I looked into it and they make their dough and sauce in house every day. They seem to get as many locally sourced meats as possible, too. I think they may actually get some of it from Foggy’s family.”

“That sounds great, lead the way,” Matt replied with a brief laugh. He felt the air shift around you as you nodded and pulled out your phone with your free hand, followed shortly by the quiet electronic voice of the GPS guiding you to your destination.

Matt couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto his lips as he followed you to the restaurant. The two of you had been together for a while now, his enhanced senses still not something you were aware of, yet you took everything that they affected into consideration. When Matt had mentioned off handedly that the cotton in your sheets felt scratchy on his skin, you had switched to silk and satin ones instead. When you noticed that your lotions and perfumes were too strong for him and gave him headaches, you took to using more toned down and natural scents. You started making meals with organic and fresh ingredients and going to restaurants that did the same because he mentioned one time that processed foods didn’t agree with him. During your time together you had done everything you could to make sure Matt was comfortable even without really knowing why. A warm smile tugged on his lips as he reminisced on how grateful he truly was to you.

Matt had attempted to do the same for you in any way that he could without revealing too much about his abilities. He would swing by a small florist stand and get you flowers when he knew you were having a bad day. He would surprise you with the lunch you had been telling your coworkers you had been craving. He would offer you massages when he could practically feel the tension in your muscles after work. The one thing he couldn’t do was ask why you had been crying so much lately in the safety of your own apartment, tucked away from him and everyone else in the world. He wanted to offer you solace and a place to be vulnerable, but you had never been open in that aspect of your emotions. Well, that and the fact that most of the time when he heard your cries he was in his Daredevil suit and couldn’t just waltz right into your apartment to offer you the comfort you needed. The love you deserved.

When the pair of you neared the pizza place, Matt deeply inhaled the scent of all the fresh ingredients and he sent a smile your way as he told you, “Great choice, sweetheart.”

“Oh, thanks!” you stuttered out, a light blush dusting your cheeks in response to his praise.

The pizza was as amazing as you had expected. The ingredients were all fresh and proved to be the winning combination they were advertised to be. Between bites of pizza, the two of you opted to play a game where you people watched and described passersby to Matt and asked what he thought their story was. As usual, you were floored when Matt would tell you what he thought with a small smirk teasing his lips. When they would walk by, he’d be right on the money. You couldn’t help the school-girl-like laugh that escaped your lips at his latest feat as you asked, “How do you do that?”

“Thanks, in part, to you,” Matt told you with a fond smile on his lips. While that was in fact a little white lie, Matt never missed an opportunity to compliment you and your people skills. “You’re very good at describing people and their mannerisms. It helps me decide if they’re a tourist, a local, a business person, or whatever else.”

“Okay, let’s go again, there’s this man-” you started to say but cut yourself off when you saw Matt’s eyebrows furrow behind his red lenses and he began fishing around in his coat pockets for something. “Everything all right?” you asked timidly, your hands dropping down into your lap to mess with the hem of your shirt.

“Just getting a call,” he told you off handedly as he finally found the flip phone in a pocket and answered it with a quick, “Yeah?” Matt’s eyes closed and you saw the muscles in his jaw working as he ground his teeth together in response to whatever was being said to him on the other line. “Yeah. Give me twenty minutes-” A frustrated sigh heaved from his chest and Matt ran a hand over the stubble growing on his chin before he relented, saying, “Fine. Ten minutes, then I’ll be there,” before hanging up.

You were thankful that he wasn’t able to see the disappointed look on your face. When he hung up the phone mere moments later, you probably looked like a wounded puppy. You forced down the steadily growing feeling of heartbreak as you attempted to casually ask, “You gotta get going?”

Matt sported a painful expression on his face, his unseeing gaze concentrated somewhere on your upper chest while he closed his eyes yet again as he nodded. He got up from his seat and fished his wallet out from his pocket, feeling around for the properly folded bills to pay for the meal and dessert if you wanted. Placing the bills on the table and a kiss on your temple, Matt apologized before unfolding his cane and practically sprinting out of the pizzeria.

The call was from one of Mahoney’s men who was deep undercover in the drug gang he had been trying to take down, and if the intel was right, Matt would be able to take down the growing syndicate that night if he hurried. They were growing more and more brazen as time went on, and even with the threat of Daredevil, the man in charge was committed to getting what he wanted. If that meant killing, then so be it. So, he needed to be stopped. Matt’s senses became laser focused on monitoring where he knew their hideout was. He turned into an unoccupied alleyway before tossing his cane away and vaulting himself onto fire escapes. He needed to get to his suit before he could take down the head of the operation.

Once he was out of sight, a deep sigh left your chest along with a quiet sob that you couldn’t hold back. Not wanting more tears to break free, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on literally anything else besides the growing pain in your chest. You tried to breathe as normally as you could, but it was hard as you felt your throat getting tighter with emotion by the second. Your head snapped to attention as a woman to your left asked, “Can I interest you in some dessert, angiolo?”

“Oh, I-” you started to say as you looked into the small Italian woman’s warm eyes, your voice trembling against your will in the process.

“I’ll get you dessert,” she said with finality, giving you a pat on the back and heading off toward the kitchen. You were left slightly bewildered in her wake, the shock of the strange encounter pulling you out of your heartbreak for a few moments.

The truth of the matter was that she had watched as Matt left in a haste and saw your reaction - how your shoulders hunched inward and you looked smaller as your leg began to anxiously bounce. She returned a few minutes later with a small to-go box filled with cannolis and you thanked her graciously as you handed her the money Matt had given you to pay for the meal. She gave you a warm smile, taking the money graciously, then you headed out of the restaurant.

As you walked back to your apartment, the weight of everything began to rest heavily on your shoulders again. You wanted nothing more than to curl up on your couch with a cup of soothing tea and ignore the world for a while. You buried your emotions as best you could as you headed to the nearest bodega that sold your favorite tea. While searching the aisles, your body went into auto-pilot mode as you made your selection. Your mind pestered you with something that had been bothering you since Matt got that phone call at the restaurant. The phone he answered wasn’t his usual cell phone. His normal phone was a touchscreen one that called out the name of whoever was calling him. This one was a flip phone that didn’t seem to have any of his accommodations. You had seen him put his other phone in his pocket before you left the apartment, so you knew he had that one on him, so why-

“Hey!” came Karen’s chipper voice after she called out your name in greeting.

You tried to subtly wipe away the tears that had begun leaking out of your eyes before forcing a smile onto your face as you turned toward the blonde and said, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

A look you couldn’t quite gauge flitted across Karen’s features before she huffed out a quiet laugh and said, “Oh, you know me, just working late at the office. We ran out of coffee this morning, and I am in desperate need, so I just came here to grab some.” When she said this, you finally noticed the tub of ground coffee she had in her arms as she added, “I’ll have to grab some from the coffee shop for Matt in the morning, but for now this’ll do for me.”

“O-of course,” you said with a small nod. Matt couldn’t stand the taste of pre-ground coffee from the bodega, preferring the freshly ground stuff from the local coffee shops. It was something you had noted early on in your relationship and made sure to get for him weekly to bring to the office. He was always so busy between cases, so it was the least you could do to supply him with the much needed caffeine. But as you stared at the container in Karen’s hands, you felt a pang of guilt hit you as you remembered that you forgot to grab him any this week.

Karen’s soft voice once again broke you out of your head as she asked, “Hey, I uh… I could use the company, do you want to head over to the office with me for a bit? We haven’t hung out in a while.” She motioned toward the box in your hand as she finished with, “We have plenty of hot water to make your tea with, and I think there’s still some honey from when we closed Mrs. Cabrera’s case.”

“Oh, sure,” you found yourself saying before you could fully process it. The people pleaser in you didn’t want to say no, so you paid for your goods and followed her to the offices of Nelson, Murdock, and Page while you tried not to drown in the sea of anxiety that was engulfing you.

On the way there, you nodded at the right places and gave a few affirmatives as Karen talked to you about their latest cases, but you couldn’t help your mind from wandering back to worrying. When the two of you arrived in the office, you let your body take control to begin steeping the tea while Karen began preparing the pot for her coffee. Who had Matt been on the phone with? They were certainly pressuring him to be on time to whatever meeting they were having. Whoever it was obviously was important to him, or maybe you were vastly overestimating your value in his life. Maybe-

“Everything okay?”

That was the first thing you heard Karen ask when your mind finally remembered that you weren’t alone. Pushing down the feeling of embarrassment at being caught lost in your own thoughts, you quickly nodded and forced a smile onto your lips as you said, “Yeah! Of course!” You placed the little box from the restaurant down on the counter and opened it as you asked, “How do you feel about cannolis? There are a lot more in here than I thought and I’ll never be able to eat all of them!”

“Oh, sure…” Karen said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing together as she pondered why you’d changed the subject so quickly.

After savoring the taste of the dessert, you offered Karen another fake smile before asking, “So, these last few cases have been keeping the three of you pretty busy huh? Matt’s been exhausted lately. He told me he’s been getting home pretty late every night after meeting with clients.”

While Karen responded with something about a new client not wanting to go to court and that’s why she was there so late, your mind began wandering again. Was it a client who had called Matt at dinner? He left in such a hurry… You didn’t think that he would answer a client in the way he did though. And there was still the thing about the phone… Did Karen know about who he might be-

Your name being called out again cut through your racing thoughts and you jumped at the sudden intrusion, causing hot tea to spill onto the hand holding the cup. “Shit!” you whispered urgently as you began flicking your hand around to rid yourself of the burning liquid quickly before more of it scalded your skin.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Karen said, her hand covering her mouth for a moment in shock before she began frantically looking around for something to help you with.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m sorry. I should really get going. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I’m sorry,” you told her quickly while holding back more tears. “Keep the cannolis. They should still be good in the morning.”

“Are you sure? I can see if there’s any aloe or something,” she told you as she dug through her purse.

“Don’t worry about me,” you told her before quickly turning toward the office door and heading out, offering a courteous goodnight before your departure. You just needed to be alone. You could deal with the burn when you got to your apartment, but right now you didn’t need to be in Karen’s company. You were self aware enough to know that just one more thing would’ve set you off into a total mental breakdown…

The next morning after getting Matt some fresh coffee from a local shop near the firm, Karen made her way into the office. “Morning Karen!” Foggy greeted her as she started putting her things down on her desk.

“Morning, Fog! Have a good night?” she asked.

“I did! Marci and I had some pizza then zonked out in front of the TV for a while.. It was great!” he replied, the smile on his face cluing to Karen that what he recounted wasn’t all that had happened, but she kept her smirk to herself as she told him that she was happy he had a good night.

She dropped the bag of coffee by the coffee maker before heading over to Matt’s office. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention. “Hey. I got you some coffee from the shop down the street. You look like you need it.”

Matt rubbed his temples and nodded, telling her, “Long night. Worked with Mahoney’s guy to take down that drug gang I’ve been after. Didn’t get back to the apartment until around three…” As Matt followed Karen to the coffee station, a familiar floral scent hit his nose which prompted him to ask, “Was she here last night?”

Karen asked your name in a question and got the affirmative, so she told him, “Yeah. She seemed upset when I ran into her at the bodega getting coffee, so I invited her back here to talk. She seemed super distracted, though. When I called her name to get her attention, she spilled her tea and burned her hand. Then she bolted.”

Upon hearing this, Matt sighed and ran a hand over the lower half of his face which prompted Karen to ask, “What did you do?” Right as she did though, a memory hit her and she gasped quietly before saying, “You had a date planned last night… You two were on a date when you had to go take care of that drug gang, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Matt admitted quietly, guilt laced in his voice and seeping into his mind.

“Oh, Matt…” she whispered sympathetically. She took a sip of her coffee before telling him, “You know…every time I asked her how she was or tried to offer help, she deflected pretty quickly. She was also super distracted and zoned out a lot. I know that look, Matt. There’s something that’s eating her alive and she’s suffering in silence. She’s not accepting help from her friends.” She placed her cup down on the counter and crossed her arms as she said pointedly, “I think you need to talk to her, Matt.”

“Karen, I-” Matt tried but was interrupted.

“Talk to her,” Karen said with a finality in her tone as a quiet knock sounded through the office, indicating that their first client of the day had arrived.

By the time midday had rolled around, Matt had called you and got your voicemail since you were at work. He opted to go ahead and leave the voicemail, telling you, “Hey sweetheart. Karen told me what happened last night. I realized that there’s something we’ve been needing to talk about. I’ll be over at around seven tonight. See you then.”

By the time you had gotten the opportunity to check your voicemail, you were already back at your apartment after work. A quick glance at your clock told you it was nearly a quarter till seven. When you heard the words there’s something we’ve been needing to talk about from Matt, your heart dropped. Fear and panic began to fill your whole body, gripping your throat in a tight vice.

This was it. This was surely the end of the most wonderful relationship you’d had in years. All because you were too afraid to talk about your feelings. You had overcorrected because of your insecurities from the past and that ran Matt off. Because you were too afraid to accept help from others and he got tired of it. Because he found someone else who was willing to be open and honest with him about everything. Because he found someone better than you. More secure in themself. Less anxious. Someone without a past that haunted them like yours did…

You barely made it to the couch in your living area before collapsing as you were consumed with your brutal thoughts of insecurity and anticipatory grief about the end of you and Matt. The room felt like it was spinning and closing in on you simultaneously. You were left clutching your knees to your chest as you tried to hold onto some semblance of self. You were failing miserably. Shallow gasps of air were all you could manage through your tightening throat. Your heart pounded in your ears. Tears flowed down your cheeks. All encompassing doom clouded the edges of your mind. This was it.

Matt was so exhausted after a long day at the firm, following his even longer night out as Daredevil, that he felt like his enhanced senses were drowning him. Everything was too overwhelming, too distracting, too much. So, he concentrated inward and focused on his own heartbeat to drown out everything else bombarding his senses. He also focused on the flowers in his hand that he had bought for you. The bouquet of roses reminded him of your shampoo, subtle and floral. It put a small smile on his lips as he made his way to your apartment.

Getting lost in concentrating on the smell of the roses and the steady beat of his own heart, Matt didn’t even tune into your apartment until he was right outside of it about to raise his hand to knock. And that’s when he sensed it. Your rapid heart rate and breathing. Fear. Panic. And you were on the other side of a locked door.

Knowing that there was a roof access door nearby and no one else in the hallway, Matt dropped his cane as well as the roses and bolted toward it, desperate to get to you. The chill of the night hit him as he navigated the familiar rooftop and then down to the fire escape outside of your window. Luckily you had left your window unlocked, so Matt threw it open and crawled through before making his way over to your shaking form on the couch.

You were alone in the apartment and there weren't any unfamiliar smells in the space, so he knew there was no immediate danger that set you off. He wrapped you in his arms and rubbed your back as he mumbled, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you choked out as you burrowed into his chest.

“Sorry for what?” Matt asked before kissing your temple.

“For not being enough,” you replied, your voice breaking as a fresh batch of tears rolled down your flushed cheeks. Before Matt could even respond to that, you found yourself rambling, telling him, “I thought that if I didn’t bother you with all the shit in my head, then maybe I wouldn’t run you off… I thought that the more of me you saw, the less of me you’d like. But… I still managed to mess everything up… Like I always do…” You huffed out a humorless laugh before saying, “I get it if there’s someone else. I wouldn’t wanna be with me, either…”

Matt felt his heart shatter as the words fell out of you in a grief-filled torrent. Tears began to sting the backs of his eyes. He knew he couldn’t lose himself in his guilt for making you feel this way, though, so he focused back on you. “Hey, hey, just breathe. Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Matt mumbled as he pulled you closer.

Matt ran his hand up and down your back and told you to breathe in and out with the soothing strokes. You tried, but with the amount of anxiety still filling your body and clutching at your throat, it felt like an impossible task. Matt didn’t give up though, and on top of the slow and soothing patterns he ran up and down your back, he began to mumble sweet nothings into your ear that reassured you that you were safe. That you were with him. That everything would be okay. These reassurances weren’t just for you though. They were for him as he too tried to calm down his own racing mind.

After a few minutes, Matt finally got your heart rate and breathing back down to a normal enough pace. When he was sure you were calmed down enough to talk, he tentatively asked, “What makes you think there’s someone else? I promise there’s only you, sweetheart. I’ve never had a partner as kind and caring and accommodating as you. I would be a fool to mess that up.”

“It’s just…” you whispered, a quiet sob tumbling off your lips before you took a deep and shaky breath. “The canceled dates. The bolting in the middle of the one last night. The mysterious flip phone you used yesterday. The background noise on the call last week. Telling me you’ve been getting home in the ungodly hours of the night.” You swallowed hard before pushing through by confessing, “My last relationship… It ended because he was cheating. When I first got suspicious though he made me feel like the bad guy for bringing it up. The things he said were extremely harsh and I guess… I guess my mind never got past that. Now I stuff down all of my own emotions to make sure others are happy and not bothered by my feelings. And over the last month, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been doing some of the same things he did, and… Gosh, I should shut up. I'm really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget I said anything. I’m sorry…”

More tears began falling from your eyes and you attempted to get up from the couch. You desperately needed to put some separation between you and Matt. You felt like you were just digging a hole you couldn’t get out of. But instead of letting you hide away from him again, his strong arms pulled you impossibly closer and kept you right where you were. “Don’t apologize. Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “He sounds like a controlling prick and I’m sorry that such a caring person ever had to deal with that… You don’t deserve to feel like you can’t talk about your feelings. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way.”

“It’s not you, it’s just…trauma,” you told him as your exhausted body relaxed into his embrace. With your senses finally easing after being stretched so thin, you were able to make some sense of the current situation. Looking over at the door to the hallway, you furrowed your eyebrows together as you asked, “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get into my apartment?” You hadn’t found the time to get a spare key made to give to him, and you knew that you had locked it on your way in, so how…? You felt Matt’s muscles tense and in response your heart sped up as your anxiety started to settle back in.

In his rush to get to you to provide you with the comfort you needed, Matt didn’t even think about how he would explain how he got into the apartment. After his conversation with Karen that morning, he had thought long and hard about the possibility of telling you the truth about what he did at night, but he didn’t think the conversation would lead here. It seemed like there was no way to avoid it now…

There was a long moment of silence before Matt gave into the inevitable and asked, “Do you want to know the real reason why I stay out so late and have been so exhausted lately? Why I’ve had to cancel dates?”

Confusion filled your mind when he asked the questions. Why was Matt asking that in response to your wondering how he got into your apartment? Surely your apartment manager had nothing to do with- You stopped your spiraling thoughts before they could get out of control and nodded, telling him, “I do.”

Another long pause filled the air before Matt said in a barely audible whisper, “I’m Daredevil…” Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment before you laughed quietly and threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. Matt froze for a second before returning your hug as he asked, “You’re not… I don’t know… Mad? Shocked? Upset? Wanting to run away?”

“I’m just happy you aren’t cheating on me,” you told him, a genuine laugh falling from your lips before you could stop it. You pulled away and kissed his cheek before you said, “No wonder Daredevil’s seemed to take an interest in me getting home safe when I’m out late.”

“Oh, so you noticed, huh?” Matt asked with a quiet chuckle leaving his lips.

“Especially after that group of assholes tried to touch me when I was heading home after Laura’s birthday party,” you noted, a small smile pulling the corners of your lips up.

“Yeah, I may have gone a bit overboard with that one,” he said sheepishly. He cleared his throat and told you, “There was this drug gang that was starting to gain ground over the last few weeks. That’s why I’ve been skipping out on dates here lately. I wanted to keep you and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen safe.”

“Did you deal with them?” you asked.

“Last night, yeah,” he replied. “That was Mahoney’s UC calling me on my emergency burner that Foggy has aptly called my ‘Devil Signal,’” he said, ending his statement with a chuckle and shake of his head.

“So, Foggy knows?”

“And Karen,” he said. “You took it a lot better than they did.”

“Well, that’s because it doesn’t change anything between us,” you told him. “Clearly, I’ve been dealing with your Daredevil schedule since we started dating. The only reason it was bothering me lately was because of my own insecurity. It hasn’t caused any problems, so why would it change anything now?”

“God, I love you,” Matt whispered before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

“I love you too,” you told him as you rested your forehead on his.

You were quiet for a few moments, letting the peace of the moment soothe your swirling mind, before you pulled away and said cautiously, “I do have a question though… Considering what you do as Daredevil, are you really…?”

“Blind? Yes,” he told you. “My other senses are enhanced, though, so I’m able to navigate the world easily. I’m able to hear what other people can’t. That’s how I get to stuff before the cops do.” He rubbed your back as he admitted quietly, “I could hear you having a panic attack in here, so I… I came in through the window.”

“You could…? How?” you asked, feeling your heart jump into your throat.

“Your heart rate just sped up when I told you that,” he told you with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m able to hear people’s heart and respiratory rate. I can also smell cortisol levels and adrenaline. All of that was off the charts when I got here so I broke in so I could comfort you,” he said, his smile evident in his voice as he finished the sentence.

“Oh… This is going to be a learning curve,” you breathed, suddenly feeling very aware of everything your body was doing at the moment.

“And I’ll be here for you every step of the way,” Matt told you before pulling you in for another tender kiss. “Promise me you’ll tell me about whatever’s on your mind from now on?”

“Promise,” you agreed, and Matt could tell by the steady beat of your heart that you were telling the truth.

a/n: this was basically a way for me to process some personal shit (excuse the lore lmao) because writing is my way of dealing with things!

special thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires for helping me process my thoughts and make my ideas into a story as well as to @a-leg-without-fear @dorothleah and @shouldbestudying41 for beta reading and providing edits! i love you all!

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock angst #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil hurt/comfort

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mewmurdock · 1 year ago

Text

love's perfect ache

Summary: Your husband wants nothing more than to love you breathless.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: smut! Matt is a soft dom (that alone deserves a warning); fingering, multiple orgasms (one somewhat forced but it is not non-con); dirty talk

A/N: Holy shit. So. A lot of things have happened since I last posted. Some of these things include but are not limited to

a) I have been seeing someone romantically for a year and four months

b) I'm graduating with my Bachelor's Degree in Education in May.

c) I've been Student Teaching full time in order to graduate, so I haven't been able to write.

However, these last three days have given me a spark of madness. I first started this draft a little less than a year ago, and only now have I finished it.

This fic is based off of... personal experience. ;) I hope you like it.

The clatter of plates and silverware jumps through the apartment. The smell of shrimp scampi still lingers in the air, though the windows have been opened and the leftovers have been put in the fridge.

Matt leans his arm over the back of the couch as he sits down, relaxing into his seat. A small part of him wants to go back to you, the remarkable woman behind him who had insisted on doing the dishes and taking care of the leftovers yourself. “Go sit and be handsome,” you’d said, kissing his shoulder. “I can manage it.”

Oh, you.

You never like asking for help, or accepting it when it is given. Not that you think you’re above it, but because you don’t want to trouble anyone else with anything.

He doesn’t love that, but he loves you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, toying with the ring on his finger.

“Yeah?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Mm, nothing,” he mutters. “Was just thinking ‘bout you.”

The hum of amusement you give him is a common little sound. One of quiet acknowledgement. It’s almost like you’re numb to what he’s telling you.

Selfless, as always.

The sound reminds him of more intimate times between you two. Sighs, moans, squeaks, breathless laughs and barely audible whines. All from you. And then, he thinks of what you say to him sometimes, when he offers to do certain things.

“It’s alright, baby, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need to finish. It’s okay. I’m too tired.”

“Honey, I’m good. I promise. You don’t have to do anything.”

Matt snaps back to the current moment. His heart hurts.

In the two years that you’ve been married, you’ve had a bit of trouble; not only with accepting help or kind words or generous gifts of affection, but with accepting pleasure too, pleasure that Matt so willingly wants to give to you. He knows about that, how you find it difficult to fathom the love he has for you and the ways he wants to express it.

Yes, you’ve discussed your kinks and your turn-offs with him. You’ve been intimate, and you’ve enjoyed it immensely. But you’ve never quite gotten to where he wants you, to where you should be.

You deserve pleasure, and you don’t see it.

Matt’s jaw clenches.

“Honey?” he asks. “You good?”

“Yup!” you chirp. “Just putting the last pan away."

“Ok.”

Thirty seconds pass. He hears you, in that time, put the last pan into the lazy-susan cabinet and wipe down the counter one last time. Then, you step away from the kitchen and sit next to him on the couch with a sleepy little mumble.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks softly, leaning in to nuzzle into your neck. He leaves a feather-light kiss there.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Everything’s… good.”

“I have an idea,” he mumbles into your skin, his hand trailing up your thigh. “And I need to know what you think about it.”

“What are you thinking?” you ask, a hint of a smile in your voice.

“Well, I was thinking… that we could… have some fun.” Matt grins.

You breathe outward, silently, your breath heavy and shuddered, as his lips trail to the back of your neck and he bites into the flesh.

“I’d like that,” you say.

“I wasn’t finished. We have some fun… but I spend the night just… letting you feel everything. I want to make you come, sweetheart. A lot, if I’m honest.”

He can hear the sharp inhale — quiet but noticeable — and how your heartbeat picks up almost instantly. His grin widens. “I want to spoil you tonight. All I want you to do is lay on the bed and be your beautiful self. I’ll do the rest.”

“I — um — ” you stammer, “you don’t have to do that — ”

“Uh uh.” Matt shakes his head. “None of that now. I want to do this. You don’t see how much you deserve this, honey. What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“ ‘m not afraid… just…”

“Just?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re too damn humble for your own good, you know?”

You shrug.

“Baby, look at me,” Matt says softly. When he knows you have done so, he says, “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I’ve noticed it. I just wanna give my girl what she deserves. Will you let me do that? Even just for tonight?”

It takes a good ten seconds for you to give him the slightest sound of approval. A tiny little “uh huh,” close to a whisper, but he can hear it.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grinning.

Matt carries you to bed bridal-style, shutting the door behind him with the back of his foot, and sits you on the edge of the bed.

He starts by just kissing you; your lips, your cheeks. Softly, gently, with both hands coming up to your jawline and your neck, thumbs swiping your cheeks and temples.

His affection is always, always welcomed. You have never felt safer than when you are in his arms — those same arms that are often covered in bruises and scratches and blood, those same arms that drop snitches from buildings and punch the daylights out of bad guys. You have never felt safer.

His hands fall down to your chest, your waist, lightly applying pressure or squeezing gently. You're in the warm embrace of someone who could break you, and the fact that he chooses to treat you with such delicate care makes your heart swell and your chest ache with such love — and this turns you on even more.

Matt treasures you. Cherishes you.

He sighs into the kisses he gives. “You have no idea how much you turn me on,” he says, his voice low. “You know that?” He moves his head up and kisses your forehead; his lips linger there for a while. “And you don’t even realize it… you don’t realize that I get off by making you feel good.”

What Matt has just said to you doesn’t register fully until he’s already laid you down onto the bed, gently pushing you down with his right hand. He straddles you, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor. “You beautiful, wonderful, lovely girl.” He leans down, kissing your clothed chest and your stomach before shuffling your pants off of you.

He gets in between your legs, sitting on the bed sideways but still facing you. You’re wearing black boyshorts, the comfiest pair you own. Matt’s favorite. He likes imagining how the black would look on you, and how the cloth would hug your hips.

His hand gently strokes the crotch of your underwear, the pressure sending sparks up your privates. It’s so much different, you think, to have someone else’s hand there rather than your own.

“You smell so good,” he mutters, in that tone of voice, and you know that he’s not talking about the vanilla eau de parfum you put on every day. No, he’s talking about a different scent you give off.

You flush, embarrassed, crossing your legs and putting your face in your hands. His hand stays where it was, unmoving, between your legs.

A finger moves, right over your clit, and you twitch.

“None of that,” Matt whispers. “No hiding today. I want to see your pretty face.”

“You can’t see,” you whimper through your hands.

“When has that ever stopped me?” he says, and you know he has that shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on,” he coaxes, “take your hands off your face.”

You don’t move. “Matty…”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetie.” A finger moves on your clit again and you gasp. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you. Even the parts you’re insecure about…”

When you say nothing, he moves his finger again and you twitch at the shock it gives you. “I’m not gonna do anything else until you take your hands off your face,” he says, and you know he’s serious.

Matt’s finger moves for the third time and that’s when you remove your hands. His little chuckle sends shivers down your back.

“There,” he says, “there’s my pretty girl. See? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

His hand, quick as a bullet, goes into your underwear and cups your pussy, adding pressure again. A strangled sound comes out of you and you cover your mouth. Matt chuckles again, and coos at you, "Aww, what? What's making you so shy? You know I love hearing you."

The teasing is too much now, but you can't seem to get over your shyness. You whimper into your hand, moving your hips to try and get some more friction. It works, but only for a second. Matt immediately notices what you're doing and he draws his hand away again.

"What do you need, baby?"

"Ffffingers."

Matt nods and shuffles you out of your underwear.

Slowly, he puts a finger in you, keeping his eyes lowered and concentrating on your feel, your sounds. The relieved sigh is all he needs, and he stays where he is, knuckle deep inside you. He doesn't move it yet, and instead, he chooses to feel you clench around his finger to no avail.

"So warm," he says, "so warm and wet."

You flush, embarrassed at that. For no reason at all, you've been self-conscious about that part of you, and how it looks, smells, tastes. You turn your head and try to keep yourself away from the praise he's giving you.

Matt tsks. "None of that now. It's beautiful, honey. You're so beautiful."

"M-Matt," you whimper, "no."

"Yes," he says, and starts to move his finger. In and out, slow and steady. The burn and stretch is a welcome one, but you start to feel something else. Almost like a wall, a barrier to your pleasure. You can't come without that wall being torn down.

"Can — can you get the vibrator, please?"

"It's been a while since you've asked for what you want." Matt grins. "That's a good girl, hm? Of course, I can."

He moves, pulling his finger out of you and getting off the bed. He opens the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out a magenta colored vibrator.

Matt gets back on the bed and puts his finger in you again. The wall comes back once he starts moving his finger again, but this time he puts the vibrator in your clit and presses a button. It buzzes to life, only on the lowest setting, but it's enough.

The wall comes down and all you feel is pleasure. You sigh, relieved. The vibrator is a nice distraction from the stretch.

"There you go," Matt says quietly. "Just feel that, honey. I've got you."

I've got you.

The reassurance that Matt gives you is both comforting and sexy. You like being submissive, and you like being taken care of. More than anything, you like being taken care of by the man who made his vows, before God and the world, to be your husband for the rest of your lives.

You melt into the bed as he continues to make love to you. Subspace is setting in and your mind goes fuzzy. You wouldn't normally describe yourself as a pillow princess, but here, right now... you are. And that's what Matt wants.

He smiles, shushes you gently, and this hurls you down into subspace even more. "Such a good girl," he whispers, "always so good to me. Just let me take care of you."

And with that, you're gone. Completely vulnerable, giving yourself over to Matt. And he finds it so lovely. so beautiful, how much you trust him.

"I think what you need is a little more... maybe right here — "

His fingers do something else, they go lower and deeper. Immediately, you feel like you're being punched in the stomach, but the sensation itself is far from painful. You can't stop yourself this time; you moan, a choked sound, and you bury your head to the side and into your pillows. Dear God, if Matt keeps this up, you're not gonna last much longer.

"There," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth, keeping his fingers moving right there, in and out, "that's what you need, hm? I know, honey, I know."

Matt knows you. He knows you, inside and out, body and soul. He knows your laugh, your smile, your voice, your smells. He knows how you moan, how you shiver, twitch and gasp. He knows what makes you tick. He knows how you come, what you need to get there. There's nothing more comforting — or sexy — than that.

You're unbelievably tense - your entire body is stiff, coming close to that edge. Matt can feel it, simply on his fingers, but he can hear it, too: the way your breath hitches and the way your moans increase, both in frequency and in pitch. He can feel your blood flowing, he can hear your heartbeat increase, feel how warm your skin has become. He notices all of these things, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world. A small part of him is still regretful that he cannot see, but only because... oh, what he wouldn't give to see your face.

"Matty," you whimper, "M-Matty, I'm cc-close. I'm so close—"

He loves hearing that desperation in your voice. You're starting to move around, turning and panting, almost in an attempt to get away from the pleasure that's sure to overtake you in a few moments. He can sense how tight your eyes are closed, how dry your mouth has become from all the sounds - oh, the beautiful sounds - that you're making, how tightly your fists are clenched, and where your arms are going. You don't seem to know exactly what to do with your hands. A few times, it looks like you debate whether to hide your face again, but you don't do that.

"M-Matty!"

And he knows, then, that you're peaking, that the orgasm has already begun and you're just on the edge of letting go, letting it completely overtake you. You've given yourself completely to him, and you're at his mercy.

And the Devil of Hell's Kitchen does have mercy, believe it or not.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he whispers, with such gentle fondness and delight that you have no choice but to obey.

You're gone, your body in flames and filled with electric sparks. Fireworks.

The sound that comes from you then is the most beautiful sound Matt has ever heard. He's heard it before, and he will never get tired of it. It's a sound of release, of letting go... a cry of pleasure, almost a guttural scream and a shuddered breath all at once. It's an orgasmic wail or sometimes it is even a period of silence where you are just completely lost in the agonizing ecstasy of it all.

You're coming, and you're coming hard... He always knows what to do or say to make that happen. When he married you, he made a vow to himself to always make you feel like the most satisfied woman in the world. It's always a reward when this happens, when he can hear and feel you like this.

It's a long one, he realizes, because you gasp and shiver and twitch and spasm and cry out in surprise as the waves of pleasure keep rushing over you. He laughs, then, a small amused chuckle that leaves you even more breathless than you already are. Matt delights in making you feel this way. If he could go down on his knees and beg God Almighty to let him do this forever, he would.

"Oh, that's it," he coos, "that's my girl."

His praise, combined with the continued moving of his fingers - shouldn't they be getting sore by now? - only makes your orgasm last longer. Once it begins to fade, your body relaxes and you breathe out a sigh of contentment and warmth. Your eyes remain closed - and it's probably a good thing, because the way Matt is looking at you now would be enough to kill you with how loving it is The aftershocks of your orgasm - little jolts of pleasure - start to course through you.

"That was beautiful," he mutters to himself. "I think I want another from you."

You eyes snap open. "Honey," you mumble.

"What?" he asks gently. "I know you can." His hands are moving now, all across your body in an attempt to soothe you. You look down and see the tent in his pants: he's never been so hard in the years that you've known him.

"You need help with that?" you ask with a smile, sitting up. By the direction that your voice is going, he knows what you're talking about.

"No, no, no," he says, using a hand to push you back onto the bed. "Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't."

"Yes," Matt kisses your chest, "you were."

"I can't come again."

"Yes, you can." Matt clicks the vibrator on again and, before you can move away, puts it on your clit.

Your whole body seizes up, your clit goes numb, and all you can feel is good, but too good. Your mind blanks. You shriek out a sound of surprise and pleasure and agony, your body instantly trying to get away. It's too much, you're too sensitive, but he won't let up. He holds you down, shushing you again as you let out little cries and sobs and moans. Your body convulses, twitching in his grasp.

"Shh, shh, baby... I got you. Remember that. You're alright."

"MattMattMatt — I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he says again, firmer this time, but laughs as you try to get away. "Just hang on a little longer, you'll feel good again. Your body is already adapting to it. You're okay."

And of course, it's true. Your body is already getting used to it. Your sobs die down and now, the pleasure is bearable. Extremely good, actually. Your moans are weak, your eyebrows are furrowed, and your eyes are shut again. The convulsions are stopping, and now all you can do is feel it all again.

"That's it, bubba," Matt says, "see? I know you can handle it."

He puts two fingers inside you, slowly, and the burn is less uncomfortable now. A guttural sound leaves you again as you're filled up, and once Matt starts moving again, you tense up immediately. Two fingers and a vibrator are a recipe for an extremely quick orgasm, and you both know it.

"Baby," you whisper.

"What?" he coos. "Is my girl close already?"

"Nnngh," is all you can reply back. "Mm hmm."

"That's what I wanted," Matt says quietly, triumphantly. "You don't have to say anything anymore. Just feel it."

It doesn't take much longer for you to get close to coming again. Especially when Matt begins to drive his fingers into you harder, faster. You can't even speak anymore; all you can do is vocalize; moan, whimper, gasp. And you know that Matt is having the time of his life. One of the first things he ever said to you about things like this was that he'd get off by getting you off, and that has always stuck with you.

Your legs start to quiver.

You peak again, sobbing out a high pitched whine. The feeling is strong now, like an unstoppable force is meeting an immovable object. Your body is tense, unbelievably so, and the pleasure keeps building, but it never crests. It never reaches that point. That's the trouble of having one orgasm after another. It's hard to come. "MMMatt, pplease, please, p —"

"Shh," Matt says again with a grunt, "don't worry. We'll get you there. Relax as much as you can. Remember, I'll take care of you." You try your best to relax your body but it's still a bit difficult. All the while, Matt is practically shoving his fingers into you now, relentlessly, and you start to hear noises down there that send your mind reeling. Your back arches.

"You fuckin' hear that?" Matt's sudden vulgarity is a surprise. He's ravenous. "Oh, you want it, don't you?" He hoists a leg over your own to keep you from moving. "You're so close. Stay here, don't run away from me."

He pauses, but his fingers keep moving. "I'll get some restraints later."

After a few more seconds, it finally hits. You crest, your orgasm starting again, and all you can shriek is a simple, "Oh, oh Jesus — "

"Just come," Matt says quietly. It contrasts heavily with the way he's ramming his fingers into you. "Don't do anything else. Just come. Let go. Let go, let go, let go — "

And, with the encouragement comforting you, what else can you do but do as he says? You're stuck in place and your mind is mush. You come with another wail, this one stronger and more primal than the first, louder too, and you see stars behind your eyelids. Your leg is shaking, and if your other one could move, it would, too. Your clit is warm, almost numb again, and your arms are quivering above his head. The sounds from your privates get more intense, and Matt grunts in exertion. You don't know anything anymore, you can't think or speak. All you can do is feel, and that's exactly what Matt wanted from the start.

You're sure Matt's senses are overloaded. Sound, smell, taste, feel. He can hear how desperate and overtaken you are, he can smell and taste your arousal and sweat in the air, and he can feel your quivers and shakes and your tightness. He's rock hard now, and it probably hurts a little, but he doesn't care. You're all that's on his mind and once again he wishes that he could only see your face in this moment.

"Oh, look at you," Matt praises, slowing his fingers now. You're a mess, a beautiful, satiated mess. There are tears in your eyes and sweat on your brow. Your hair is tangled and unkept, and your knuckles hurt from how hard you've been clenching your fists. It's amazing how this is only from a fingering, but you needed this. You wanted this, as shy as you were to admit it. You pant, weakly, your legs completely unable to move. You're jelly, practically limp, and you twitch and shudder as the last of the aftershocks hit you.

"Can I put it in now?"

You shriek and Matt laughs, falling beside you and immediately wrapping his arms around you. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, baby." He kisses your forehead and cradles your head to him. "Such a good girl," he says, "you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you."

You swallow, and the saliva is a welcome sensation on your dry throat. "I think... I'll call off of work tomorrow," you pant. "Holy hell, Matty."

"Careful," Matt says, "if you do that, I won't be able to stop myself from doing this all over again once you wake up."

"I'm in danger," you say with a breathless laugh. "Just be gentle, okay?"

"Of course," he says, "always. I'm so happy that you allowed me to do that. It's been a while since you've given in that much. You don't know how hot it is to me when you let go like that."

You look down and see the tent in Matt's pants again. "Do you want me to take care of that now?"

"When you're half asleep already? I'm good, honey. That will go away eventually. But it'll be there in the morning, waiting for you. And I may or may not slip out in a few hours and get some restraints from the sex shop later. You may or may not wake up with your arms and legs tied to the bed. Just be warned."

It isn't long before you slip into sleep, completely exhausted but satiated and happy. And while you sleep, you can still feel Matt's lips on your forehead, and you think you can hear a small, "I love you, sweetheart," too.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader smut #daredevil #netflix daredevil #husband! matt murdock #wife!reader #smut #daredevil smut

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

Text

enter sandman - m. murdock

a/n: see me personally? never seeing the pearly gates. never ever. not after this one . enjoy. feedback always appreciated ! <3 warnings: guys... where do i fucking start. SMUT. SMUT!!!! GRAPHIC PORN!!!! no plot!!!! degradation!!! dumbification!!!! praise!!!! oral!!! (m recieving) cursing!!!! nicknames!!!! reader is female and has female parts and she/her pronouns!!!!! matt is cocky, mean!dom!matt, the ending is kind of cute, lots of inappropriate use of matts senses, uhhh guys let me know if i missed any because... wow. word count: 4.2k summary: you have a hard time sleeping. the devil has a few games in mind to tire you out. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: enter sandman - metallica "exit light/enter night/take my hand/we're off to never-never land"

You have a horrible habit. Okay, you wouldn’t really consider it to be a habit per say, but you’re not proud of it. You will for it to end.

You can never seem to fall asleep. Staying asleep is easy, but getting there is a problem. Your mind is always racing, which causes you to spiral into a whirlpool of anxieties. You’re too busy thinking about your job, or what you’ll eat tomorrow, or when you’ll be doing your next load of laundry.

But most of all, what keeps you up at night is worrying about the devil. And not in the sense that you’re a holy catholic who wants to repent for her sins, either. Your worry for the devil comes because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

And you worry that one day he will come home damaged beyond repair. Maybe one day he will not come home at all, and you’ll have to hear about it on the news the next morning. It’s a hellish existence, loving the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you make do.

Like tonight—You had baked brownies earlier in the night, and then read your book for the better part of the night. You won’t allow yourself to fall asleep because the possibility of seeing him overwhelms you. But as the hours pass, you begin to lose hope.

And just as you you’re beginning to accept that he won’t be coming to see you and you’re really letting yourself drift, you feel a warm hand on your neck. He’s taken his gloves off tonight. You consider yourself blessed.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, your brain going all fuzzy with even just that bit of contact. You’ve missed him. “Was beginning to think you’d never show.”

But your devil is in no mood for simple pleasantries tonight.

“What have I told you about waiting up for me?”

“Not to?”

“I said,” His hand moves from its gentle place against your neck to grip your chin, “As long as you leave the window open I’ll know to just come in and take what I need.”

Your face flushes, and he grins, because he can tell that he’s making you flustered.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart.” He hums.

“You are.” He shrugs gently. He’s wearing his black suit tonight, and it’s making you feel… a lot of things.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Damn him.

“Nothing!”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, and you lean up to try and kiss him further, but he pulls away, his grip returning to your chin, to keep you just centimeters away. The devil is an expert at reading you, despite his lack of sight. He has developed the habit of studying you, and knows that as of late, you’re not allowing yourself the pleasure of sleeping. He knows it’s because you’re so anxious and worried about every little thing, so tonight.. He intends to fix it. Or at least, maybe come up with a temporary solution.

“Liar.” He whispers and moves away further. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me.”

Your devil is many things, but he does not bluff. He has this will of steel.

“I prefer it when you wear the black suit,” You tell him, “It’s not very protective, I know. But you look good in it.”

He makes a noise of realization, before moving his hand to slip under the hem of your shirt, resting his hand on your stomach. You shiver a bit, his hand warm against your skin. That’s what you get for wearing a tee shirt and shorts to bed every night, he’d tell you.

“That’s my smart girl.” Your heart flutters. “Mm, you really like that huh?”

“You’re awful.” You always pretend to hate how he reads you, but secretly, although you suspect he knows it, you love that someone knows you so well. He grins and his hands move again, this time picking you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “Hey! Not cool, we talked about picking up when we have no warning—” You cut yourself off with a grunt when he tosses you onto the bed.

“Shut up.”

He hears no objections.

Just as quickly as you’re thrown on the bed, he is above you, mask still on, kissing your neck.

“Wanna play a game, sweetheart?” He asks, hands on your hips, his fingers creeping up the hem of your shirt. You shiver again, and he just grins “You can answer.”

“Sure. I like games.” Your voice is meek, too busy enjoying all the contact with him. He hums softly.

“I know you do, and you’re just so good at them.” You grin against his skin as he kisses your cheek. “See that? That’s what I want to know.” You’re a bit lost.

“Know what?”

“I want to know what turns you on more— praising you or degrading you.”

What a fun game to play with a human lie detector.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s play.” You confirm. He kisses you quickly.

“Good girl.” You hum softly, but it isn’t quite what he’s looking for. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but he’s after more. “Tell me about your day, baby.” He continues to plant kisses along your skin. You know this isn’t a request but rather a requirement of the game.

“Well, I had work today, then I had to stop at the grocery store. I made dinner and—” You’re cut off by a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck, because you can’t help but let out a gasp of pleasure.

“What? A few kisses and you’re already turning dumb for me?” You shudder softly, your heartbeat steadily increasing. The deep cadence of his voice paired with his words make you want to just melt. “Oh, there she is..”

He lets go of your arms for just a moment to slip your shirt off. Then, your hands are back above your head, held down by his grip. He moves on from your neck and begins to kiss down.

“I like this game.” You manage out, and he chuckles.

“I know you do. You know how?”

You think about it for a moment before you answer. You want to be right.

“You can hear my heartbeat?”

“And I can smell you. You like this a lot. More than you like me?” He continues to kiss down your torso.

You don’t answer for a second. He bites your skin gently, prompting you to answer.

“No.” You answer, “No, I don’t like anything.. anyone more than you.”

He kisses the spot where he bit softly.

“Even smart girls need to be reminded sometimes.” Is all he says before he continues to kiss you. You try to hide it, try to hide your reaction to the words, but he grins against your skin.

“Matt..” you groan out softly because his kisses have stopped.

“What?”

“Why’d you stop?” You whined.

“You’re my smart girl, why don’t you tell me?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it because you can’t? Do you like being dumb for me, smart girl?” You want to defend yourself, but he bites your skin again.

“Yes!” you respond, and he does the same thing he did before—He kisses where he bit.

“Good girl.” He responds. “I like making you dumb just from a few kisses anyways.” He tells you, finally reaching your stomach with his kisses. “I love my dumb little smart girl.” The cadence he has to his voice makes you whine again. He knows every part of you, even the parts you never wanted to tell him about. He’s just too observant. “I love that despite how well behaved and good you are, you’re dumb enough to be talked down to like this, by some strange man who just crawled through your window.”

You answer before you can think about it. You’re smart enough to know that he’s at least half right.

“You’re not just anyone, you’re my Matt.”

“Your Matt?” He hums. “Your Matt, My ditzy smart girl.” He grins, before placing one last kiss right above the waistline of your shorts.

He moves so he can kiss your lips again, kissing you quick before pulling off his mask so you can see his face. He has a cut on his forehead and a bruise forming on his cheek. It’s clear he had a good night though, or else this wouldn’t be happening.

“Your face..” You frown, concern in your voice.

“Observant and smart?” He teases, kissing your forehead. “What happened to wanting to be dumb for me?”

You’re almost embarrassed of it now.

“You’re being mean.” You say quietly.

“Mean? Me? To my best girl?” He kisses you quickly again. “Never.” He hums. One of his hands goes down to your thigh, his fingertips inching up.

“Never.” You echo.

“What do you say, smart girl?” He asks, “Wanna play a few more games? See just how desperate I can make you?”

You huff at his words, your brain short circuiting to the point where you speak before you can really think.

“I just want you to fuck me!”

He stops just as he’s about to pull off your shorts and slithers back up so the pair of you are face to face.

“First of all,” he places a kiss to your lips gently, “You are not in a position to be making demands, pretty girl. Second,” He kisses you again, “Such a foul mouth for such a dumb baby,” You let off a soft whine, and he has the audacity to mock your whine, “I know, it’s not much of a lecture when you like when I talk to you like this,” He hums. “And third, I know you’re smarter than to be a brat.” He says gently, kissing you again.

“I’m not a brat.” You whine, and again, he mocks you before devolving into a deep chuckle, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.” He says, with a grin on his face.

He’s gentle with you for a few moments, softer. You decide that now is your chance, and if you don’t act now, you’ll spend the rest of your night under his thumb. So, you flip over and have him under you, as you sit on his lower stomach. His hands come up to the back of your thighs.

“I’ve got you now, Devil.” You grin, leaning in to kiss him. But before you can, he’s flipping you back over, keeping you pinned by your legs.

“Brat.” he accuses, leaning in to kiss you again. You huff. “Easy, pretty girl, your attitude is getting the best of you.”

You frown and turn your head when he goes to kiss you.

“Tell me I’m not a brat and I’ll kiss you.” You demand, and he grins, but this time it isn’t soft. It’s almost wicked. He grabs your chin roughly and tilts your head towards him, before kissing you roughly.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Come on, smart girl, I know you remember.”

“That I was in no position to make demands?”

“That’s right.” He coos, “Now, baby, do you want to hear what I had planned for you tonight?”

You must admit, you’re very curious.

“Sure, Matty.” His grin widens.

“Well, I was planning on playing this little game with you, then eating you out until your thighs are shaking,” You let out a whine, but he just shushes you softly, “Sh, sh, sh… You wanted to hear, so listen.” He hums. “Then, I was going to fuck you until you were full of my cum.” He tells you.

Then, he lets out a disappointed sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That was what I was planning on, but because you decided to be a brat, I have a new plan.”

“I liked that plan so much though..”

“I know, Sweetheart, me too.. But you’re the one who ruined it.” He reminded, leaning in, and biting your jaw between his fingers. His hand positioning is not exactly choking, but the grip is tight enough to leave marks. He feels you grind your hips up a bit, and chuckles again. “Smart girl, already figuring out what’s next.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but before you know it, he’s repositioning you so you’re in his lap at the edge of the bed. He pats your thigh gently.

“Get up for me, Honey. Then you got to take your shorts off for me.” You do as you’re told, no longer interested in fucking up his plans. Then, he pulls you back onto his lap, and he hums gently. You decide to take a risk and bring your hands up to his jaw, and then up towards his mask.

“Please?” You ask gently. “Wanna see you..” He nods softly, letting you pull off his mask, as his head tilts to the side to kiss your palm.

“You remember who’s in charge, right, sweetheart?”

“You, devil.”

“That’s right, angel.” He praises, “And that’s why you’re going to ride my thigh.” You let out a soft whine, and he shakes his head, “No, no whining from you, sweet girl. You wanted to be a brat, so you gotta reap what you sew.”

He holds your hips as you begin to grind against his thigh, and Matt focuses on the way your breathing hitches as you rub against his thigh. Your hands grip his shoulders as he begins to kiss your neck again.

Your skin burns with need, and your hips roll faster as your breath speeds up, and slowly, minute by minute, you’re edging closer to your release. But he knows you’re close to coming undone not only because of how your skin is hot, and your breath is airy, but because you’re making such a mess.

You’re definitely staining his pant leg with your wetness, because after his insatiable teasing, you’re just desperate for him, and oh so sensitive. The speed of your grinding increases, and then, because he wants to see you break, he starts to bounce his leg up so that in addition to your grinding, it’s overwhelming you.

“Matt,” you say, breathlessly. “Matt, please..”

“Please what, smart girl? What do you want?” He’s really going to make you ask for it. This is all part of his game.

“Please..” You start, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, can I come?”

“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, now he’s being a fucking dick. You know he can hear you, with his damned super senses. Nonetheless, you pick your head up and manage to get it out.

“Please let me come,” You beg, and he laughs.

“You know what’s funny, baby?” You let out a whine. “You’re so smart, always holding the world on your shoulders, and yet.. A little bit of teasing and riding my thigh, and you can barely get a sentence out.. You’re being so good for me, baby. So good at following orders,” He bites your neck. “So, go ahead and come for me, sweet girl.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, you’re letting go, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. You moan into his ear, his hands on your side to keep you stable as you come undone. He keeps bouncing his leg to have you ride out your high as your legs begin to shake. You’re making all of these pretty noises for him, and the smell of your juices are overwhelming for him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, kissing you softly. He’s back to being rather gentle with you. But his cock is incredibly hard against his pants, and he needs to feel you clench around him. “Can my pretty baby ride my cock?” You’re shaking but you nod gently.

He knows you’re verging on the edge of being unable to do much else, but he wants to see how far he can push you. So, he pats your leg again and you stand up. His hands come up to undo your bra and pull off your panties.

He holds them in his hands for a moment, breathing in deeply as your scent continues to overwhelm him. He wastes no more time, pulling off his shirt and then starting to unbuckle his black pants. On instinct, you’re on your knees, with this.. primal desire to suck him off.

He takes a deep breath, his hand going to your hair and pushing your hair from your face. You lean into his touch, smiling softly up at him. He knows how much you like just thoughtless sex—You value long, intimate nights too, but after a long week, you need to shut off your brain and he needs to take control.

“Wanna suck my cock first, baby? You’re so good for me..” He says softly, slipping down his boxers.

“Just wanna be good for you,” You hum, eying his glistening hardness. You can’t deny that he looks truly crafted by the hands of God—Most of his body is glistening with sweat, cock glistening with precum. He is heavenly and the only thing you’ll ever want to worship.

“You’re so good for me. My dumb little smart girl.” The name form earlier makes you weak, as you lean in and begin to lick his tip. His hand grips your hair as he inhales sharply. “Careful, sweetheart.” He tells you, beginning to guide you in sucking him dry.

His hand guides you as your head bobs against his cock, the taste of him turning your brain further into mush. He makes sure to guide you at a steady pace, moaning out praise, and occasionally degradation.

“So fucking good for me,” He gasps out, “My good little girl.. Sucking my cock so good—Ah, fuck..” He gasps as you quicken your pace. “Sucking me like the little slut you are..” You moan against cock at that, and he gasps, before it devolves into a low chuckle. “And you like it, too.. Being called my little slut.. Good little slut, just for me.. Got you trained so well..” He holds on for a few more moments before he comes into your mouth, panting softly.

His cum dribbles down your chin as you swallow most of it, so his hand comes up to your chin to gently wipe the dribble off before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

“Every last drop for me, angel.” He requests. You happily suck on his thumb for a few moments while he recovers. Then, he leans down and picks you up, resting you on the bed again. “Now you’re gonna ride me, right, pretty?”

“Mhm..” You smile, and as soon as he lays back on the bed, you’re on top of him. His cock slides against your folds and you whine a bit, just desperate for the feeling of him filling you up. “You know how badly I want your cock..” He grins at this.

“You have it, angel. Just gotta ride me, okay?” You hum in response. You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, taking a few minutes to adjust to the size of him. But your slow pace is not quick enough for Matt, whose hands find your hips (for the millionth time tonight) and quickly slides his entire length into you.

You moan loudly, a feeling of pain and pleasure blurring together as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Matt, fuck,” You whine, wanting to take a second to catch your breath.

“Color?” It’s a safe word system—He knows he might have taken it a tad too far, pushing into you like that.

“Green,” You promise.

“Okay, good.” He leans up and kisses your forehead gently, a sign of the gentleness that resides in his demeanor despite just how into his dominate behavior you are. He begins to roll his hips, and revels in the sound of the pretty screams coming out of your mouth as he begins to pound into you. “I’ve got you fucked dumb, baby? Can’t even ride my cock properly?” He asks, pulling you in to kiss your skin.

“No,” You protest, “I can do it,” It comes out whinier than you wanted it to—Much whinier, but you can’t deny that he’s wrong about that first part. Your brain is blurry in the best way. He hums in approval before gently pushing you away from his lips.

“Prove it, then.” He demands, and his hips are no longer bucking into you. Instead, you shakily begin to bounce against his cock, using his moans and gasps as guidance. His hands grip your thighs as you ride him. “There you go, angel. It’s not too much for you, right?” He hums.

“No!” You protest again, “No, Sir, I can take it,” He grins at the slip of the title. He swats the side of your thigh, rubbing it softly after you yelp, but it quickens your pace. His brain is beginning to fog too, so he knows he wants to get a few more comments out.

“Fucking liar,” he laughs, “Even when your.. fuck..” He gasps, the feeling of you clenching around him overwhelming him. “When you’re bouncing on my cock and moaning for me, you’re still lying..” His one hand travels to play with your clit, rubbing small circles into it. “So,” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, before picking his head back up. “I’ll ask you again.. Is it too much for you, my ditzy girl?”

Tears prick your eyes, as you will your brain to come up with a comprehensive answer.

“Yes!” You admit, “it’s too much,” You pant, but because you don’t say ‘red’ he keeps going.

“Aw, I know, honey,” He plants a soft kiss to your lips, the hand that isn’t rubbing circles into your clit coming up to brush sweaty hair from your face. “But you can take it. Come on, sweet thing, I know..” He hums. “Come for me, baby..”

And you do—You come hard, your vision going white for a fraction of a second as you let out these angelic noises. He doesn’t give a damn about noise complaints right now, all he can focus on is the smell of your sweat, your cum, and your pretty little noises.

You continue to rock your hips, wanting to feel his cum fill you up. And after a few more minutes, your wish comes true, as he grips your hip tightly with one hand as he comes deep inside you, as you roll your hips just a few more times, riding the last waves of a euphoric high.

His chest is heaving as you slump down against his chest. The pair of you are sweating, but he still looks so beautiful like this. His cock still fills you, his cum deep within you. His hand gently runs up and down your back,

“How’s my sweet girl doing..?” He’s afraid he went too far with you, hoping his words didn’t push you into a bad headspace. It’s happened before, where you just needed time to come back to reality. But tonight, you’re exhausted in a whole new way. You’re happy that you’ll actually be able to sleep.

“I’m good,” You promise. You’re sweaty, out of breath and completely fucked out of your mind.

He takes your jaw in his hand and tilts your head up so you’re looking in his general direction.

“You know I don’t really think you’re dumb, right?” He just needs to make sure.

“I know,” You giggle, “But it’s pretty hot in the moment. Besides, you took care of me.”

He grins and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He promises. You know he means it, too. Your Matty, always taking care of you. “You know you don’t need to worry about everything, right? You don’t have to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I know,” You start, “But you’re always so busy with the firm, and being Daredevil, and—” He hushes you softly.

“I am never too busy for you.” He says gently. “I know I can’t do your job for you, but I can be more careful and help with dinner, you know.” He just wants you to be less stressed all the time, the hypocrite.

“Okay.” You say gently. “Thank you, Matt.” He holds you close and places a soft kiss to your head.

“You’re still shaking,” He says gently, “But you need to shower.” He says softly, moving now so that he can carry you to your bathroom. You whine at the feeling of emptiness you’re left with when he slides out of you, and he just laughs. “I know, Baby, I know.”

Matt is just a general fan of taking care of you. Even when you’re fucked out of your mind like you are right now. You love that about him.

You love that the devil is so devoted to you. It stirs something deep inside you that you can’t quite voice. Matt knows it, too.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock smut #dom!matt murdock #marvel smut #rough kink #never seeing the pearly gates #no plot

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 21 days ago

Text

the repercussions to rinse away

buttercup, chapter nine

a/n: was shower sex at the very top of my list of things to include in the new chapters? fuck yeah it was, as it should be. double bingo because he'd also super hurt, but like in the slutty way that he does it (you know exactly what i'm talking about. just look at the gif i made right up there if you need a visual aid)

summary: “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, hurt/comfort, injuries, blood, kissing, shower sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, impact play, pussyjob, thighjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, protected sex, penetrative sex, cockwarming

word count: 4163

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“Knock, knock,” you hummed as you pushed open the door to Nelson and Murdock, peeking inside before you crossed the threshold completely. As your eyes flickered away from the empty offices, they then landed on the kitchenette off to the left where the only remaining employee stood.

“Hey,” Matt twisted his head in your direction to flash you the soft smile that promptly blossomed on his lip, as the sound of your voice melted into him like sweet hot chocolate on his tongue, warming him from the inside.

As his fingers went back to fixing himself a cup of coffee, extending to click on the electric kettle, you stepped closer before he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“So…” you breathed, slightly tense as his lips faded from your skin, “…are you alright?”

“Hm?” his brows knit together gently, “yeah, of course, I’m fine.”

“Okay, good,” you leaned against the counter with an exhale, “it’s just when you didn’t show up last night, I got a bit worried.”

“Shit,” he cursed sharply as it all came rushing back to him at once, “sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

Since today had been an early morning shift for you, the plan had been for Matt to let himself into your apartment last night after his patrol, so that your paths could, at the very least, cross for a brief moment instead of waiting multiple days for your schedules to once again align. But instead of feeling the comfort of his presence slip into bed beside you, he never came, and even when you dragged yourself out of bed while it was still pitch black outside in order to make it to the bakery when the clock struck four, fear had swayed you to briefly peek inside of his neighbouring apartment, as a detour when you slipped out of your own, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

“It’s okay, I understand,” you gracefully swallowed the lingering disappointment, “you probably just lost track of time, saving people who needed it, or just plain forgot,” you shared the theories you’d cooked up while you’d worked the early shift you’d clocked out of just before wandering over here, “or maybe we just missed each other, you got home right when I left, or maybe you didn’t wanna wake me up…”

Grasping your hand as the kettle clicked beside him, now puffing with steam, he exhaled, “what can I do to make it up to you?”

Pursing your lips as you thought through the options, you then suggested, “how about I sleep in your bed tonight,” your finger lightly poked his chest before catching his tie and gently running your thumb and forefinger down the silky strand, “and that way we won’t miss each other tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he smiled, stealing a swift peck before he finished brewing his simple cup of coffee.

Though when his feet then began to shift across the floor for the first time since you’d stepped into the office, a furrow found your brow as you noticed how stiffly he was walking, carefully rounding the corner, mug clutched in one hand as the other palm trailed the wall on his way back to his own desk.

“…why are you walking like that?” you tilted your head as you picked up on more of the obvious signs than just the pained facial expressions that he tried his best to suppress.

“Like what?” he tried to act like a kid who hadn’t just been caught with their hand down the cookie jar.

“Matthew…” your head faintly twisted from side to side as impatience overtook you and you continued to stare at him in concern, “don’t–…”

“Don’t what?” he kept his tone innocent, though didn’t spin back to face your overflowing worry.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes narrowed before you uttered, “…take off your shirt.”

However, he still went on shielding you from the truth as he instead plastered on a smirk and croaked, “alright, sure,” placing his cup down on his desk as he finally whirled around to face you, “if that’s a way I can make it up to you, but just so you know before you start stripping as well, Foggy and Karen will be back any second.”

“Oh, stop! That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” you snapped, snuffing out his charm, “take it off,” you repeated firmly and watched as the faux grin finally dropped from his lips, “let me see.”

Slowly, he reached up to tug at his tie, carefully slipping it over his head before his fingers began to work at the buttons down his crisp shirt and flickers of agony flashed across his features before it finally parted enough for you to see.

“Oh, Matt…” you exhaled as you spotted the grievous wounds sporadically scattered across the sliver of his torso on display for you, all of them shielded behind blood-tainted bandages.

“I’m okay,” he gently grasped your hands as your fingers reached out to trace a ghostly touch safely along the skin beside some of the injuries.

“What happened?” you whispered as you tried to keep the reins on your imagination and not let it run wild.

“Sweetheart, this is nothing–”

“It doesn’t fucking look like nothing! Is this why you didn’t show up last night?” you asked before the guilty look that flashed across his features became all the answer you needed, “Matt…”

“I’m sorry,” he uttered softly.

“You should have called me, I could have come, instead of you just lying unconscious and bleeding out in an alley somewhere,” you pleaded quietly.

“I wasn’t bleeding out in an alley,” he said, attempting to calm your erratic nerves, “Y/n, I’m fine, I promise. It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“How did it even happen? Are you in danger? Is someone after you?”

“It was nothing,” his head faintly shook from his to side as he tightened his grip on your hands, “baby, it was nothing, okay?”

“…okay…” you hesitantly nodded, doing your best to let go of the fear still churning your stomach, “…you know, maybe it would be smart if I learned a little bit more about medicine since things like this are a much more common occurrence for you than I think I realised…” you blinked back down at his beaten and bruised skin, your fingertips briefly catching the hem of his open shirt.

“I can teach you what I know,” he tilted closer, grasping your cheek before he pressed a kiss to your lips, “…so,” the corners of his mouth twisted upwards as he then shifted topics in an effort to distract you from the remainder of your worries, “was it a no then on the quickie before the others get back?”

It was a stifled groan that woke you from your slumber.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, as you layed curled on your side, alone in your boyfriend’s bed, you had to squint before you saw the figure on the other side of the apartment, sitting by the dining table in the dark.

With his black mask dangling off the edge of the table, Matt’s fingers froze before they could reach back into the open first aid kit as his head tilted and he heard how your legs shifted slightly beneath the dove grey duvet as you woke up.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he called out quietly, keeping his back turned to you as he stayed still and tried to not let you notice what he was doing, “I’ll be there in a second.”

But instead, you sucked in a breath and crawled out of bed. Your soft nightgown unravelled and tumbled down around your thighs from where it had been gathered up around your waist while you were sleeping.

A long sigh slipped from Matt when your bare feet neared him and his current state became impossible for him to hide. His tight black shirt was pushed up to his waist, exposing the wound just above his hip, one that you’d spotted earlier that day back in the office, though now it was no longer neatly bandaged, but instead slowly leaking blood as he worked at stitching it back closed.

“Matt…” you breathed as your eyes flickered everywhere from his bloody nose to the small knicks that had sliced through the thin material of his shirt.

Bathed by the neon lights that leaked in through the tall windows behind him, he simply exhaled, “I’m fine,” as he reached for a clean cotton pad in the first aid kit and dabbed it against the wound he was patching back up, swiftly swallowing a grunt of pain as the gauze was slowly stained crimson.

“You can’t keep saying that,” you pulled out the chair next to him and sank down, “tell me what to do.”

“You don’t have to,” he gritted his teeth as he pierced the curved needle in his grasp through his skin one last time before tying the thread off with a tiny knot, “I can handle it myself–”

“Matthew! Will you please just shut up and let me help?” you barked, finally cutting through his stubbornness before you watched an exhale slip from his lungs and his head slowly tilted in a nod, “thank you,” you huffed before scooting a bit closer, “now, please be honest this time, how bad is it?”

“I promise, it’s not that bad,” he uttered as his hand that clutched to cotton wad kept on putting some pressure over the freshly closed-up laceration.

“Do you need any more stitches anywhere else?” your eyes kept on scanning his bruised body, noting as he spoke the bloody gash that split up his lip.

“No, it was just this one that popped back open,” he carefully took the swab away from the wound with tender dabs, the needle that still dangled from the thread swung gently from the friction, “I just need to get cleaned up, maybe a few bandages and I’ll be fine,” he tried to flash you a smile, though the brave face didn’t help the way that he’d hoped.

All he could hear was how fast your pulse was beating as you stared at him, tears threatening to spring forth as your heart nearly burst straight out of your chest.

“Y/n,” his hand swiftly found your own, “hey,” he uttered gently, “take a breath… take a breath…” his head faintly nodded in soft encouragement as he steered you to finally fill your lungs properly.

As your shoulders finally began to relax, you felt him let go of your palm again before his fingers went back to work.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked once more.

Tilting his head towards the first aid box, he murmured, “you can grab the scissors.”

And as you grasped it, you watched as he then leaned back in the chair, a jagged breath slipping from his lungs as he shifted, before he plucked up the dangling needle and held it out for you to snip the thread.

“Like that?” you asked once you’d cut through the thin cord, nervous that you’d somehow messed the small task up.

But as he brushed his fingertips against the short string that remained at the end of the row of stitches he’d knotted, the corner of his lip twitched as he uttered, “perfect,” before he carefully tugged his shirt back down over his stomach.

A long exhale escaped Matt as he finally let himself relax and fall back down from the highs the events of his night had brought him to. For a while, you both just sat there in silence as he sank further into the serenity he’d made his way back to.

But then, as his eyes fluttered closed, you parted your lips and uttered, “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…”

Face briefly threatening to scrunch up at the frustration that bubbled up in him, he muttered, “sweetheart–”

“But I just wanna say that even though I know why you don’t like to talk to me about the details,” you cut him off before he had the chance to stop you, “sometimes it doesn’t protect me, sometimes my active imagination takes a hold and tries to fill in the blanks in ways that are surely so much worse than the reality…”

Sucking in a breath, a second passed before he said, “…you really wanna know?”

“Yes,” you swiftly nodded, leaning in a tad closer in your seat.

Sitting up a bit more, he planted a forearm for support on the table before he began to tell you, “a few weeks back I intervened in this trafficking deal, two dozen women and kids, ready to be shipped off like lambs at the slaughter,” his hand gestured alongside his words, “turns out it was connected to something much bigger than I had thought,” he exhaled before uttering, “do you know who Joseph Giordano is?”

“I don’t think so,” you murmured slowly, “why?”

“He is next in line to the throne in the Giordano crime family.”

Your brows then knit together as you blinked back at him, “…are you saying that there’s an entire mob after you right now?”

“Well, I don’t know if they’re after me, I’ve just pissed them off a few times,” he tried to downplay his situation in order to calm your nerves that began to pick back up again, thumping in his ears like the booming base at a club.

“Is that what happened tonight? You pissed them off again?” you looked once again to how hurt he was before he begrudgingly began to nod his head faintly, “…so, how worried should I be?”

“It's nothing I can’t handle,” he uttered as his years of experience shined clear through his tone.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I am so close to putting a stop to them, all of them, making them pay for all the shit that they’ve done,” his sentence culminated in a heated huff before he let it go. Carefully rising from his seat, he briefly flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he changed the subject, “I’m gonna go clean up, you head back to bed.”

“No, I’ll–,” you swiftly stood up as well, “let me give you a hand.”

Pausing just before he began to shift close to the bathroom, he then murmured, “alright,” before he let you grab his palm and shadow him with every careful step.

Reaching an arm into the shower, you turned on the water so that it could begin to rise to a temperature that wasn’t like having snow dumped down over you. As you twisted back around, you spotted Matt’s features, faintly screwed up, as he cautiously peeled his shirt off, though before it could slip over his head, your fingers caught the tail end of it.

As you dropped it down on the edge of the sink, Matt’s hands found his belt, although before his nimble fingers could begin to undo it, your own touch landed upon his own before his palms slipped out from under yours and he let you take over.

First, you kneeled down before him and slipped off his boots, pushing them off to the side before you straightened back up to undo his pants, gently tugging them alongside his dark boxers.

As you rose back up with the last of his black vigilantly suit in hand, your partner’s wide palms naturally found your waist in a soft graze, before your fingers then drifted to the hem of your nightgown and he felt the fabric slip beneath his touch as you pulled it over your head.

Dropping it down on the top of his own clothing, piled up on the edge of the sink, you then grabbed his hand once again before your feet began to shuffle against the tile, backing up till you were both in the shower. Twisting you both around, you slowly guided him under the drizzle of water, still holding his palm in yours as it began to rain down on his battered form.

The water turned a ruddy shade as it cascaded over his body and gently washed the blood away. Gingerly, you let your fingers ghost over his injuries, being careful as you helped clean them. His eyes fluttered closed when your touch floated up from his chest to his jaw before you softly swept over the crimson that had dried in a trickled path from the gash on his forehead, his nostrils from the blow his nose evidently had taken, as well as from the small cut on his lip that had begun to puff it up slightly.

Gliding your hands down to his hips, you gently guided him around for his broad back to face you. As your hands skimmed over the fresher damages, your touch couldn’t help but slow as you blinked back at the gnarly old scars that split up his skin. You’d likewise been staring at the ones all over the rest of his flesh as your touch swept across his body, but as he stood, facing away from you, the intimate graze of your fingertips couldn’t help but slide up and trace the long marks.

You barely realised that you’d stopped your aiding efforts till it was just your thumb lightly brushing against one of his scars, back and forth in short swoops, before you closed the short distance and pressed a tender peck to the middle of his spine.

Though as your touch slowly returned to their work, his hand suddenly snatched up one of yours. His feet shifted slightly, angling him only partly back to face you, he raised your palm up as he bowed his head to meet the back of it and press your hand to his lips.

Ripping your gaze away from his broad back as it slowly twisted away from you, it swiftly drifted up to Matt’s features, faintly wistful as he planted the soft peck to the back of your palm. When he came to face you once again, his other hand swept up your frame till it came to cup your cheek.

A soft breath flowed from his nostrils before he uttered, “I love you…” in a tone that made it sound as if he was thanking you, before he then tilted your face up as he bent down to gently press his lips to your own.

For a while, he kissed you as if he was trying to make time itself stop, as it stretched on, slow and smouldering, light on your lips. But then, while the hand he had on your cheek stayed in place, the other one let go of your palm and drifted down around your waist, gently caressing your side before his fingers slightly dented your skin as he drew you in closer and the light pecks morphed and deepened so slowly that you barely registered the change he had initiated till your tongue was suddenly dancing heatedly against his own.

His touch on the side of your face soon faded as it instead slipped down the landscape of your body and a heavy intake of air rushed in through his nose as the kiss then grew more desperate. Though as you hugged him closer, careful with your touch, a quiet gasp suddenly bubbled up your throat as his frame finally pressed flush up against your own and you felt the hardness that now poked you in your stomach.

“Matty…” you breathed in between ravenous pecks as his cock throbbed against your skin.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as his wide palms then swooped down over the curve of your ass, briefly digging his touch into your softness and making your cunt clench around nothing, before his knees then bent slightly and his hard length slotted in between your thighs, perfectly slipping against your pussy.

Letting the devil out, Matthew then let himself rut against your folds, a gravelly grunt rolling off his tongue as he momentarily rested his forehead against your own.

“O-oh, fuck…” you moaned as his hardness continued to nudge against you, parting your slick petals with his fat girth. Hazily tilting your head back at the feeling, you soon felt his lips flutter down your neck, “Matt…”

Though your pants continued to grow unanswered as your partner only growled in response before one of his hands soared up to capture your jaw and tilt your head for your lips to come crashing back against his own in a feverish kiss.

Shifting your frame, he then brought your legs closer together till the softness of your thighs hugged around his length still slotted against your pussy. With his hold still digging into the softness of your bottom, he then began to fuck your thighs, though with each needy thrust he granted himself, the details of his cock still dragged against your buzzing clit and made you whimper against his kiss.

And when you were both on the verge of exploding, nearly too pent up to keep your balance on the wet tile floor, he hastily reached an arm out of the shower and grabbed a condom from the medicine cabinet. Snatching it from his hands, you panted as you rolled it on him, briefly raising yourself up to stand on your toes to steal a breathless peck from him as your fingers twisted the latex into place, granting him a soft stroke once you’d finished.

Long moans drew forth from both of you when he slowly slid inside, his forehead melting down against your own as he paused at the very tip, letting your cunt clench around his girth a moment before gradually giving you more in shallow thrusts.

Whimpering to the rhythm of his steady pace, you blinked up at him and panted, “I love you,” before he then crashed his lips against your own. Tilting your hips slightly as he gently rocked inside of you, slowly dragging his cock out of your pussy, most of the way, till he dove himself back in once more, each time burying himself a little deeper than before.

Your palms slid up his burly chest before your touch tangled around his neck, holding on tight as his desperate grunts melted against your tongue. Matt’s grasp, still on your ass, dented your flesh further as he then began to move your body for you, dragging your hips closer to meet his bucks and grant him the angle to go even deeper, filling you up till your eyes rolled in your skull. His hands swiftly tapped against your butt as he found a greedy pace, one that caused your pussy to sing sinfully over the splashing of the showerhead still pouring down over the both of you.

The next thing you knew, Matthew then snapped, losing the last bit of self-control he had left after the long night he’d had, and drowned himself completely in the one pleasure that his soul ached for. Feverishly, he suddenly plucked you up off the wet tile, his fat length still nestled deep within you as he picked you up into his arms.

“Oh my god,” you yelped as he rooted his strong hold under your ass, “wait, no,” your nails instinctively dug into the nape of his neck, “you’re hurt–”

But he only cut you off with a quiet, “shh…” as his nose brushed against your own before he uttered in a gravelly tone, “trust me when I say, I can take a lot more than this when I’m way worse off.”

And with you in his arms, he then readjusted his grip on you, briefly tossing you up a smidge, before he then sank you back down onto his cock, plugging you up till you couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan as your brain momentarily went blank in the ecstasy.

Toes curling, you whimpered, “j-just be careful,” as you spread out your fingers till they weaved through the short hair at the back of his head.

But rather than of playing it safe like you begged him to, he instead just tightened his hold on you as he growled, “I’ll be careful later,” before he then went to town, pounding away till the showerhead above wasn’t the only thing gushing.

And when Matt finally came undone, after you began to fear he might not snap out of his ravenous haze till the sun rose, fucking your pussy till you could no longer stand on your own two feet, your spine was plastered against the tile wall as his head melted down against your shoulder. The shower went on running as he kept you in his arms, both of you panting as he granted himself the gift of staying warm inside your fluttering cunt even longer and further drawing out the bliss to balance out the night that he had endured.

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock smut #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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hellsburners · 26 days ago

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let's get intertwined

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

masterlist | more matt murdock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Matt—” you moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels better than me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months ago

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On Your Knees, Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 6k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Role Reversal

Warnings/tags: 18+; pure filthy smut, dom!Reader/sub!Devil, smidge of roughness (very slight), fingering, f!oral receiving, cocky Matt and mouthy Devil (they definitely need a warning)

Summary: You've never been one to take control in the bedroom–until tonight, when you're determined to draw out the Devil and make him submit to you.

a/n: I was unhinged the week when I wrote this, and I'll admit, it's a bit different from my usual smut. Enjoy the filth. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now you're just being cocky.”

Matt smirked at you from his place on the leather couch, sinking deeper back into the cushions as he spread his legs further apart. “I'm just being honest with you, sweetheart,” he replied, casually tossing an arm over the backrest. “You couldn't handle the Devil, and you certainly wouldn't be able to bend him to your will.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you arched a brow at Matt from across the coffee table. You could feel your frustration rising the more he kept dismissing you.

“How would you know?” you questioned. “You've never been with anyone as the Devil before, Matt. Because none of your previous flings ever knew your big secret like I do.”

“Sweetheart,” Matt began, his smirk growing wider, “you're far too soft spoken in the bedroom. Loud in other ways but–and I don't want you to take this wrong–you just…would not be able to handle that side of me. Especially not with you being the one in control.”

“You don’t know that,” you scoffed.

He shot you a pointed look, his head tilting to the side. Your jaw clenched at the sight of it.

“You’ve never been in that role before, sweetheart,” he said. “If you want to play out whatever’s in your head with me, then I’m all for it. But we’re not bringing that side of me into this. Certainly not like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded.

Matt sighed, leaning back into the leather of the couch. “It’s just not that simple. You don’t have any experience and you want to just immediately go straight to controlling the Devil? That’s…a little out of your league, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him, your spine straightening as his words only further increased your determination. Matt was clearly picking up on the subtle shifts in your body, and each one only seemed to grow that arrogant smirk on his face. A smirk you wanted to wipe from his lips with each passing second.

“What’s the harm in letting me try?” you asked, voice darkening.

The corners of Matt’s lips twitched at your tone, clearly catching your growing irritation. “The harm, sweetheart,” he began, his response already grating on your nerves, “is that if you don’t know what you’re doing, this could all go down in a way that we both regret. The Devil isn’t…he’s not just some costume I throw on. He’s–he’s a part of me. A darker part of me.”

“I know, Matt,” you told him. “I’ve been with you for almost a year. I’ve met the Devil. On many occasions and in many different moods. I know exactly who the Devil is and I've always wanted that side of you just as much as this one.”

Over on the couch, Matt expelled a long sigh. “I know we’ve been together for awhile, and yes, you’ve seen that side of me. And I love that you still love me despite that–”

“In spite of it,” you muttered. “I love all of you.”

Matt grinned at your comment before he continued, “But you still don’t have any experience in this area. And I just–just don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to ‘let the Devil out’ as you called it.”

For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt so casually sprawled out on the leather couch. He couldn’t look any more smug with the way he was practically taking up the whole piece of furniture, his lips still quirked into an arrogant smirk. As you stood there staring at him, an idea gradually began to form in your mind.

“So you won’t just let the Devil out,” you began slowly, studying him closely, “but would you be opposed to me drawing him out myself?”

Matt’s lips twisted into something like a smile before he regained his composure, almost as if he was about to laugh at the idea. A heat flamed within you at the sight, your resolve to tame the Devil only growing by the second.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked, amused. “Are you going to rob a bank to lure him out? Mug someone on the street, sweetheart?”

He chuckled at the thought, a deep rumbling sound. The noise had your hands curling into fists where they were crossed over your chest but you fought back your annoyance. You knew he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

“I asked you a question and I expect an answer,” you demanded.

Matt’s amusement quickly subsided at the seriousness in your tone, his own eyes narrowing back at you. A muscle jumped in his cheek before he spoke.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Matt replied. “If you can manage to draw the Devil out, I'll let you. You think you can handle the situation? Then by all means, you can go ahead and try.”

Arching a brow at Matt, you uncrossed your arms, sensually sliding one hand down your body to the waistband of your sleep shorts. Two fingers toyed with the edge of it, your focus on Matt.

“You think I can't?” you challenged back.

Matt's eyes darkened, his unseeing gaze seemingly following the path of your hand as it had traveled down your body. You had his attention now, at least.

“You think that's going to draw out the Devil?” he goaded. “You think that's enough to do it?”

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, your fingers gently running back and forth along your cunt over your panties. Your breath hitched just before you caught the slight flare of Matt's nostrils–exactly what you were looking for.

“I think I know more than you realize,” you told him.

Matt's eyes further narrowed back at you, his arm lowering from the back of the couch as he leaned forward, his smirk gradually shrinking. You definitely had his attention now.

“And just what do you think you know, sweetheart?” he shot back.

Squaring your shoulders, aware of the dampness that had begun to soak through your panties, your fingers continued running along yourself. “I know the scent of me makes you lose your mind,” you stated.

Matt's lip twitched at the corners, his nostrils flaring even more sharply at your words. You were right and he damn well knew it.

“And I know you can hear how wet I'm becoming right now,” you continued. “I can see how it's affecting you. You can’t hide that from me.”

“You're going to need to do a hell of a lot more than that if you want the Devil,” he countered.

Slipping your fingers into your panties, you grinned back at Matt as you ran them between your damp folds. “Oh, I know.”

Judging by the way he was shifting on the couch, his nostrils repeatedly flaring as his hands gripped the cushions, you could tell he was inhaling the scent of you. You'd been with Matt plenty of times to know exactly what your arousal did to him, but there was one thing that had never happened before, one thing you had never done.

Matt had never been denied a taste or a simple touch before. Until now.

“I told you earlier–I want the Devil tonight Matt,” you reminded him. “On his knees and at my feet.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, his gaze briefly flickering to the floor in front of you before it returned to where your fingers were still running back and forth delicately through your damp folds. You knew he could hear the wet sounds they were making and you knew the scent of your arousal in the air was only increasing with every pass of your fingers.

“You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” Matt warned you.

“I know what I'm doing,” you replied.

“Do you?” he asked.

You slid your fingers towards your soaked entrance, your other hand sliding up beneath your shirt. The tips of your fingers barely grazed the underside of your breast and you saw Matt's grip tighten on the couch.

“If you want a taste,” you told him slowly, enunciating each word, “or a touch, Matt, you'll do what you're told. Otherwise you get nothing tonight. You hear me? Nothing.”

Matt’s lip curled back into a partial sneer at your words, his gaze somehow darkening even more at the thought. He clearly didn’t like the idea of you denying him the opportunity to pleasure you, let alone denying him a simple taste–something you’d already guessed he’d be exceptionally unhappy to hear.

“You wouldn’t,” he ground out.

“You can listen to me take care of myself, I’ll let you do that,” you continued, your hand snaking its way up to tweak a nipple as Matt’s lip tugged further back into a snarl. “But when I’m done and I fall asleep in bed afterwards, I know you'll still be awake smelling the scent of me lingering all over the apartment. And while I’m contentedly dreaming, you'll be laying there in bed as the sounds I made–that you love so much–replay over and over in your mind.”

Matt sat stiff on the couch, his elbows now resting along his knees as he leaned forward towards you. His head was cocked even further to the side, his lips still drawn back into a snarl that was bordering on animalistic at your words. His control over the Devil was slipping, that much you could see already. Though it wasn’t Matt that would be your biggest fight, you knew that, but you were certainly thrilled at the sight of him like this. The challenge of bringing the Devil to his knees next was only increasing the dampness pooling between your thighs.

“Really trying to push me over the edge, aren’t you?” he gritted between his teeth.

Slipping two fingers finally into yourself, you loosed a soft sigh at the sensation. On the couch, Matt struggled to contain himself as you slowly pumped your fingers into yourself, your hand on your breast tugging at your nipple. Matt’s knuckles almost turned white as he gripped the cushions tighter.

“Give me the Devil, Matt,” you demanded. “Stop holding back already.”

Visibly teetering on the edge of entirely losing his composure, Matt’s lip began to repeatedly twitch. A deep rumble vibrated in his chest at your words and you knew he was close to losing his control.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he warned.

Pressing the heel of your hand against your clit, a jolt of pleasure shot through you as you sunk your fingers deeper inside. Matt lurched to the edge of the couch cushion now, his body tensed and ready to pounce. He needed a nudge, just a little one, and then you’d have him.

“Let the Devil out, Matt,” you pressed.

The look on his face in conjunction with what you were already doing to yourself had the quietest little moan slip out of your lips. And that was all it took.

Matt’s demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes darkened to something predatory and dangerous before he launched himself off of the leather couch. An excited thrill shot through your body as he took just three brief strides to close the distance between you. And then he was standing before you, one hand darting out lightning quick before his fingers were tightly gripping you by the chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“You wanted the Devil, sweetheart?” he growled out in that familiar gravely tone. “You got him.”

“I said no touching,” you reminded him, your fingers pausing their movements as you stared back at him.

“Do you think I care about your rules?” he challenged. “Your body is begging for me right now. I can hear it.”

“No, it's not,” you disagreed, shaking your head in his hold. “And I know you'll follow my rules because I know you'd never do anything that I don’t consent to. And right now, I didn't say you could touch me, Devil.”

Frustration and annoyance flashed in his eyes as they focused on your mouth while you spoke. His teeth noticeably ground together, his fingers still gripping your chin. You arched an eyebrow at him, knowing full well no matter the situation, Matt would never pass one of your boundaries–even as the Devil. Another moment passed before the Devil growled in aggravation, his fingers abruptly releasing you before his hand dropped back to his side. A shudder of pride burned in you as he did. He wasn’t on his knees yet, but you were positive you'd get him there.

“Fine,” he spat. “I won’t touch you. But don’t think for a second you’re the one in control here.”

With a pleased grin on your lips, you slid your two fingers out from inside of yourself before removing them from your panties. The Devil’s head snapped down towards your hand, tracking its movement as you held up the two glistening fingers in the space between you both. He was almost immobile now, completely fixated on your fingers.

“Every time we’ve been together,” you began in a hushed tone, reveling in the way he was locked on to your fingers, “you always like to call me yours. ‘My good girl,’” you repeated. “So tonight, I want you to be my good little Devil.”

“Think I’m some pet to tame?” he ground out between his teeth. “Think you can control me?”

“Oh, I know exactly how you operate,” you assured him, watching the way he was still focused on your fingers. You knew the scent of your arousal so close to his face was taking every bit of his willpower to hold back from sucking your digits into his mouth. “Those senses of yours can get overwhelmed, and you’ve never been the most patient. Doesn’t help that I can see how much the scent of me is affecting you. You want a taste don’t you, Devil?”

A low growl reverberated through his chest in response. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his gaze never wavered. Satisfied at his answer, you drew the fingers up to your mouth and slipped them inside, your tongue lapping over them instead of his. You grinned when another deep, irritated rumble vibrated in his chest. You knew you were beginning to do more than frustrate him now.

Slowly you slid the fingers back out of your mouth, enjoying the irritation evident on his face. His body was tense with his restraint, struggling to resist the urge to just tear your clothing off and have you. The thought that he knew he couldn't was incredibly exhilarating.

“Think you can keep teasing and taunting me without any consequences?” he questioned sharply. “You're pushing me, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, I think,” you hummed out as you turned towards the bedroom, “that you're all bark and no bite. You've got absolutely nothing to use against me tonight because there's only one thing I want.”

You gradually began to make your way to the bedroom, grinning when you heard his soft footsteps following after you. He was honed in on you now, his attention fixed. You just had to outlast his stubbornness and you'd have him.

“You really think you've got the upper hand here,” he asked, voice dark and low.

Pausing halfway to the bed, you glanced over your shoulder and saw him stop directly in the doorway. His expression was almost pained beneath his scowl.

“Well you're already following me like a dog,” you teasingly pointed out. “Leaves me to wonder what you think you could possibly tempt me with?”

The Devil's face darkened at your question, a devious smirk curling his lips upwards. “I can give you an entire evening of pleasure like you've never experienced before, sweetheart,” he promised. “Stop this little game now and I'll push your body past its limits until you can hardly feel it anymore. I can make you forget your own name for a few hours. You know I can.”

Walking the rest of the way to the bed, you felt a rush of warmth flood you at his words. You'd never slept with Matt when he was like this before, but you'd always been tempted. You were curious to know what the Devil would be like in the bedroom after all the times you'd seen him come home worked up from patrol, but despite how enticing his offer was, it still wasn’t what you wanted.

“The only thing I want,” you repeated carefully as you sat down on the end of the bed and faced him, “is you right here on your knees doing what I tell you to. And I know you can hear the truth in my words.”

You pointed at the ground in front of your feet, accentuating what you'd said. Another flash of frustration shone back at you in his eyes as his smirk entirely disappeared. His jaw tightened once more, determination to fight you still written across his face. Despite his rigid posture and the way he remained in the doorway, you noticed how he'd gone temporarily quiet. The knowledge that he had no leverage, no way to tease you and distract you, had him closer to breaking. You could feel it.

“Still need more encouragement?” you asked coyly.

Hands grabbing onto both your shorts and your underwear, you gradually pushed them down your legs before tossing them carelessly off to the side of the bed. The Devil’s hands began to clench and unclench at his sides but he didn't move from his place in the threshold. With your lower half now exposed, the unobstructed scent of your arousal was likely driving him mad. Lightly resting your hand along your stomach, the tips of your fingers just barely brushed the sensitive bundle of nerves as you settled in to give him the last few pushes over the edge.

“You have two options, Devil,” you told him, watching his nostrils sharply flaring back at you. “You can stand there and keep fighting me and I'll happily get off on my own just watching you. Or you can tell me that you'll be my good little Devil and I'll let you help me.”

A dangerous snarl tore out of his chest at your second option. The sound sent a delicious wave of arousal through your body, your skin practically humming in response. But he still didn't answer, continuing to remain silent. His lack of response had you grinning, especially when you caught the bulge now poking through his gray sweatpants.

“That your choice then?” you asked.

Fingers moving down a fraction, you began to gently draw circles over your clit. A soft, pleased sigh slipped out of your lips as you lowered back onto the bed, resting on one elbow. Eyes falling shut, you focused on pleasuring yourself, enjoying the fact that he was still standing in the doorway focused on you while you did.

“You're not going to get off right in front of me,” he snapped.

You opened your eyes, attention returning to him by the door. He'd taken a single step into the bedroom now, that pained expression becoming further visible on his face. That one step said more than he realized.

“I'll finish without you,” you warned him with a sly grin. “Show you how little I need you.”

Back arching along the bed, you caught the second step he took towards you as a feral snarl tore through the bedroom. Your finger began to move a little quicker as you added a bit more pressure along your clit, your breath coming in sharper.

“I'm not going to make this easy for you,” he growled.

Laughing lightly, your eyes fell shut once more as a shudder raced up your spine. It was an empty threat and you both knew it.

“Not a damn thing you can do, Devil,” you told him, breath coming in quick pants as another surge of pleasure raced through you. “You're not allowed to touch. Not until you–”

Your sentence broke off on a soft moan, the noise loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. With your eyes still closed, you could almost feel his senses raking over you, taking in the racing of your heart, the scent of your arousal, the blood rushing through your body, the flush in your cheeks.

“Not until you agree to be my good little Devil,” you finished, eyelids fluttering back open.

He’d taken another step closer now, standing barely two feet away from you. His jaw was tensed, his teeth grinding back and forth as the muscle repeatedly jumped in his cheek. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders drawn up to his neck. You could hear his sharp breaths each time his nostrils flared now. Biting your lip, you tilted your head to the side as you once more slid your fingers through your damp folds, teasing your entrance. The sensation had your eyes almost closing, but you fought to keep them open, watching as he almost took another step closer.

“Last chance, Devil,” you told him. “Come here or I'll finish without you.”

A dark, almost guttural growl tore straight out of his chest in sheer frustration. Removing your hand from yourself, you sat up on the edge of the bed. His unseeing gaze once more snapped directly down towards your damp fingers, his tongue yet again darting out along his lips hungrily.

“Come here, Devil,” you ordered.

An almost imperceptible whine slipped out of his lips before he grudgingly closed the remaining distance between you both. You smiled at the sight, realizing he was on the cusp of submitting–even if reluctantly. Leaning closer towards him, you reached your hand up to his face. His sightless eyes managed to track the movement almost perfectly until you’d gripped him by the chin, your fingers intentionally near his mouth but not remotely touching it. A rough grunt fell out of him at your touch, his eyes narrowing back at you.

“You’re going to regret this later,” he warned. “I can promise you that, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that, Devil,” you murmured, still holding his chin. “But for now, you need to do what you’re told.”

His lip twitched in response, his eyes glaring darkly at you. Biting your lip, you gave a little tug downwards on his chin.

“On your knees, Devil,” you ordered.

A deep, rumbling snarl slipped out of his lips at your order and the way you’d tugged his chin, but you held your ground as you sat on the edge of the bed. Seconds passed as he stood there towering over you, a fire burning in his eyes that was a mix of desire, need, and sheer agitation. But then gradually, ever so slowly, you saw him finally and reluctantly sink down to his knees before you, his lips still curled back into a frustrated sneer. A slow, triumphant smile spread across your mouth as you continued to hold his chin firmly between your wet fingers.

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you asked.

“Enjoy this moment while you can,” he growled up at you. “Because it’s never happening again, sweetheart. I’ll have you on your knees–”

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you questioned more firmly, cutting him off mid sentence.

An irate growl rumbled in his throat. “Is it necessary to call me that?”

“Answer the question,” you ordered.

His eyes narrowed further back at you, his hands slowly coming up to rest along the bed on either side of your hips. A shudder ran through you as he gripped the mattress tight, your cunt clenching around air at the sight of him like this before you. His attention immediately snapped down to the space between your thighs, an almost choked noise getting caught in his throat.

“Yes,” he ground out.

Releasing his chin, you slowly set both of your legs over his shoulders before leaning back and resting your elbows along the bed. You stared down at him, comfortable on the bed as he sat gnawing on his bottom lip just before you, his sightless eyes staring longingly at one part of your body in particular.

“That’s my good little Devil,” you praised.

A sharp grunt met your words and you grinned. He might’ve been irritated, but he was technically still obeying.

“Do you want to get me off?” you asked him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to make you feel so good you can’t do anything but scream,” he snarled back. “Want to hear that pretty little mouth crying up there. Show you how much you do need me, sweetheart.”

“Watch yourself, Devil,” you warned. “You’re getting a little too feisty down there.”

“What did you expect?” he snapped. “This is the closest thing you’re going to get to what you want with me. You can’t tame me. Can’t control me.”

Your eyes narrowed at his challenge. “Yeah? Take one taste, Devil. Go on.”

With his hands gripping the bed tighter on either side of your hips, he leaned in and swiped the flat of his tongue entirely up the length of you, as if trying to taste as much of you as he could. Your eyes snapped shut the second he’d touched you, the sound of his throaty groan cutting straight through the bedroom. Opening your eyes a second later, you saw his own eyes had closed, his face contorted into a mix of pleasure and pain before he released a long, low growl.

“You want more?” you whispered down to him.

His eyes snapped open at your voice, their focus finding your chin. He blinked a few times, his expression wavering between bliss and frustration.

“Yes,” he ground out.

“You’re going to be my good little Devil then, do you understand?” you asked.

“Yes,” he grunted.

“That’s a good little Devil,” you replied. “Fingers first. Prove you can behave, then maybe I’ll let you use your mouth.”

A frustrated noise rumbled in his chest in response, but he didn’t argue back this time. Instead, one of his hands released his tight grip along the bed before he lifted it over your leg and left it hovering in front of your soaked entrance. His lips twitched again before his tongue slipped out, gliding along the length of his bottom lip. A jolt of excitement raced through you at the sight, anticipation of what was about to happen taking hold of you as you held your breath, awaiting his touch.

Two of his thick fingers finally began to slide back and forth delicately along your entrance, teasing you just a little as your arousal gathered along his fingertips. Then slowly he slid them up through your folds towards your clit with a faint groan of pleasure. With the slightest pressure, he began lightly tracing the exact patterns to immediately cause your hips to squirm along the bed. A satisfied rumble met your ears as your eyes fell shut and your breath came in faster.

His other hand released the bed, grabbing the thigh resting along his shoulder in a tight vice as he yanked you further towards him. A surprised gasp flew out of you as you slid forward on the bed, your eyes reopening at the movement. You’d been about to chastise him for what he’d just done, but the sight of the devilish grin on his lips had your mouth momentarily going dry. As much as you wanted to appear confident in this situation, you couldn’t deny that the Devil was certainly a challenge, even if he was mostly obeying you now.

After a moment, his fingers traveled back down towards your entrance, the sensitive bundle of nerves above still desperate for his attention. But instead he slipped a single digit inside of you, sinking it in as far as it could go. Your breath hitched in response, your hips raising just a fraction off of the bed. The Devil immediately pushed you back down with the hand gripping your thigh, holding you still on the mattress.

“I want more,” he growled.

His eyes darted up to you as his finger began to pump in and out of you, the wet squelch with each thrust loud even to you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your body begging to reach your climax after everything that had been leading up to this moment.

“And I can tell you do, too,” he said. “Don’t deny it.”

“Bit–bit mouthy for one who’s supposed to be behaving,” you stammered out, the continued waves of pleasure causing your mind to cloud.

“I want a taste,” he shot back, his finger pumping a bit more roughly into you as he said it. “I’m doing what you want, sweetheart. Now give me what I want.”

Your eyelids fluttered as he stuck a second finger inside, his pace moving agonizingly slow on purpose. Struggling to focus, you tried to formulate a coherent thought, but it was difficult to do with his hot breath washing over you as he worked.

“That sounded more like a command, Devil,” you replied, trying your best to stay focused. “Try that again.”

A frustrated rumble sounded in the room, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you. Your breath was coming in shallower now, your body getting closer and closer to your climax. You knew he could tell, and you knew he’d do what you wanted before you came. Because you knew he’d want his mouth on you when you did.

His eyes closed as his head snapped to the side. A look of distaste crossed his features before he spoke. “Let me use my mouth…please.”

Your cunt tightened around his fingers when you heard the Devil actually beg you. The power you felt at that one word alone almost had you toppling over the edge, but you fisted the sheets in your hands and tried to hold on a bit longer.

“That’s–that’s my good little Devil,” you breathed out. “You ask, you don’t–don’t demand.”

The sound of his irritated growl broke on a whine this time and your eyes darted straight to him. His fingers were still sinking into you repeatedly, but it seemed as if his composure was breaking the wetter you were becoming.

“Please,” he ground out. “Let me get you there. The way I know your body is begging for it.”

Your breath hitched at his unexpected and sincere plea, but you found yourself wanting a little more. “Ask again,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice even.

“Let me taste you,” he began, his usually husky, dark tone laced with growing desperation. “Please, let me–let me take care of you how I know you need it. Please.”

Struggling to keep your orgasm from crashing into you, you nodded quickly. “Yes, use–use your mouth,” you whispered back.

The Devil didn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence before his face had lunged forward, his plush lips sucking your sensitive clit right into his mouth. The sensation had a sharp cry flying out of you, your head falling back over your shoulders. He began frantically sucking on your clit, his teeth lightly grazing it at one point. The sensation caused you to hiss in pleasure, your hips fighting against his hold on you. But as his fingers inside of you never ceased their movements, relentlessly fucking into you over and over, his other hand had slid up your thigh and over your stomach. His thick, single muscular arm was holding you firm to the mattress as he brought you even closer to the brink.

Your body felt like it was on fire with sheer pleasure, your back fighting his hold to arch along the mattress as your eyes had begun to roll back. You were close, so incredibly close. And that’s when you caught the sound of his hungry, vexed growls against your clit turning into high-pitched whines. Struggling to keep your focus, your breath repeatedly catching in your throat as you fisted the bed sheets tighter in your holder, you glanced down at the Devil. From your angle you couldn’t see much, but it almost looked as if he was struggling from rutting against the bed. The sight had a curse slipping out of your lips at just how desperate and aroused he was himself.

“Doing–alright–down there?” you panted out.

You were growing dizzy at the sensations his tongue and his fingers were giving you, your entire body feeling like it was vibrating. The Devil only responded with something like a choked moan, the sound muffled against you as he continued to diligently and determinedly get you off. That needy, desperate sound coming from the Devil–the same one criminals feared in Hell’s Kitchen’s streets–as he fought the urge to rut against the bed just from the taste of you, from the sounds your body was making in his ears, had you immediately hitting your peak.

One hand releasing the bed sheets, you reached out and gripped his forearm so tight your nails dug into his skin. He hissed against you just as your head fell limp over your shoulders, your eyes closing as your mouth went slack. A long, low moan gradually tore out of you just as you reached your climax. You felt the Devil slip his fingers out, instead using those against your clit as he worked you through your release. His mouth had latched onto your cunt, lapping at your release like a starved man. The bedroom around you filled with his strangled moans of pleasure and the wet, hungry licks of his tongue against you.

Body suddenly heavy, you sunk down into the mattress, your eyes blinking blankly up at the ceiling. Below you, the Devil’s movements had gradually begun to take an obvious shift. You felt soft, gentle laps at your entrance before his wet mouth was gently kissing and nuzzling at your inner thighs. Struggling to sit upright on the bed, you glanced down to see Matt’s half-lidded eyes as he continued nuzzling against your leg. Reaching a hand out, you gently began to card your fingers through his hair as you tried to catch your breath.

“Matty? You good?” you asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, planting another kiss against your skin. “Yes. You–you taste so good.”

You smiled softly down at him, your hand coming to lightly tap the arm he still had resting along your stomach. “Hey, come up here,” you whispered.

He gently kissed your thigh once more before he sluggishly rose to his feet. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the damp patch soaking the front of his sweatpants, your eyebrows rising.

“Matty, did you…?”

Sinking into the mattress beside you, Matt wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you towards himself with a huff. He buried his face into your shoulder, his eyes closing.

“I…guess I underestimated you,” he murmured into your skin. “That was–” he paused, teeth lightly nipping your shoulder. “I like you like that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” you teased back.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

You grinned, resting your cheek against the top of his head as you tried to catch your breath. “We should probably get cleaned up, though,” you whispered.

Matt burrowed closer to your neck, releasing a soft sigh. “Mmm, in a minute, sweetheart,” he replied. “Let me just–just recover first.”

You laughed lightly, one hand gently resting along his thigh that was nestled beside your bare one. “Alright, my good little Devil,” you teased.

Matt’s lips pulled into a smile against your shoulder at the praise, a soft, contented hum vibrating in his throat. You had a feeling that after tonight he wouldn’t fight you so much the next time you asked for the Devil.

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #Tuna-Tober 2024

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 6 days ago

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Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 3

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

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gif by me (tumblr is making gifs that i upload extra potato quality lately and I'm not happy about it at all)

summary: You're feeling lighter and freer now that you and Matt are seeing each other, only to have it all come crashing down when Frank strolls back into your life. When you go to tell him you're pregnant, it doesn't go as planned.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio or I will block you!) AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Mention of pregnancy. Fingering, unprotected P in V. Pet names. Angst.

a/n: This is gonna be the last chapter with the flashback parts, so thanks for sticking through it if that style was confusing!

w/c: 2,940

Still a few weeks earlier

It was far too comfortable in your bed to even think of opening your eyes, let alone getting up and starting your day. The glow of the light streaming in from the morning sun was warm against your skin and encouraged you to burrow further under your plush duvet. The way Matt’s fingers also sleepily danced at the waistband of your panties while he lazily kissed at your neck and pressed his body against your back didn’t help you to fight the urge to stay in this blissful state of near slumber all day.

“Come on sweetheart, let me in. Just a little bit before I have to go.”

His voice was husky. Still shaking off the sleep as he cooed in your ear between haphazardly placed presses of his lips to the skin where your collar bone met your neck.

You couldn’t help but grin, rolling your leg so that your knee bent towards the ceiling, allowing his gentle hands to easily access you.

“Matty.” you cooed in a whispered plea

“Shhh”

You arched your back as he finally swiped a finger through your already drenched core, still leaking the mix of yours and his fluids left from just hours before.

In the few days since you and Matt had gone out, things heated up quickly. You’d woken up with him in your bed three nights this week and any notions of keeping things casual and taking it slowly had gone out the window. At least sexually, that was. You still were holding him at an arm's length emotionally and you were sure he’d complain about it if he weren’t so busy spending so much time between your legs making you both feel good.

Preening at his touch, you softly whined when he inserted two fingers into your heat, loving the way they scissored and explored inside you.

Fuck, he was so good at this. Using his heightened senses to read every clue your body gave and bring you to levels of pleasure you couldn’t have fathomed were possible.

It was a slow climb this morning, each of you allowing hands to explore sleepily for a long time. Eventually, he had you flat on your back, nestled comfortably between your thighs as he gingerly pumped into you. He moved as if there was no rush, no world outside that needed your attention, despite the impending threat of each of your morning alarms and the responsibilities of the day that awaited. Just the two of you and the warm glow of morning.

It was pure ecstasy when you reached your peak, shuddering under the weight of him as your heat contracted in slow steady pulses in a drawn out orgasm. He moaned into your mouth as he felt you clench around him, so wishing this could be the only way he needed to spend his day, but also chasing his own release, spilling inside you unable to resist giving into how good you felt fully anymore.

A satisfied hum escaped his lips as he collapsed on top of you, nestling into the crook of your neck while you stroked his back.

You were so content in the moment. Happy to hold him close and revel in the bliss of it all.

Until his phone beeped out, his morning alarm cutting through the rosy haze you were both in.

Still, the two of you remained snuggly as you prepared for the day, unwilling to be away from each other’s touch for too long.

“You know, we could try that Indonesian place down in Chelsea that Mahoney always raves about.” Matt said, sipping at his coffee while you packed up your bag for the day

“I can’t tonight Matty, I have the gala, remember?”

“Oh shoot, that’s right.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to be any more handsome, but his still kiss bitten lips cracking into a groggy smile as he stood in the morning glow in your kitchen certainly had you considering calling off for the day and dragging him back to bed.

“You know, I could go with you. As your date? I shouldn’t be in court past five tonight if you want some help charming those donors.”

“Thank you for the offer Matt, but I think showing up with you to a work event when we’ve been going out for less than a week feels very much like putting a label on this. Which I thought we were trying to avoid.”

You could tell from the way Matt ran his tongue along his teeth that he was not thrilled with your continued stance on the state of your relationship. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be seen in public with him, actually quite the opposite. God, how you’d love to know what it was like to be his truly and fully; to show up to the gala and let the world know that someone thought you were special. Worthy of being with. Not just someone but Matt. You could feel yourself already falling faster and harder than you’d ever planned. In fact most days, Frank was just a whisper of a name that echoed in the back of your thoughts. But you knew if you let yourself jump head first into this, whatever was still lingering in your heart about Frank would inevitably bubble up to the surface and ruin things. Plus, you expected Matt to eventually grow bored of you, a handsome and successful lawyer like himself had plenty of options. You were sure he’d find someone better than you eventually. Best not to let yourself fall too hard and end up hurt again.

You also couldn’t deny the disappointment you felt at losing the opportunity to see Matt all dressed up for a black tie event; knowing he’d probably spend the entire evening schmoozing and charming you and showing off.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you deflected, trying to defuse his mood “I also really do not want to hear it from Colleen if I show up with you on my arm. She tries to set me up with every even moderately hot dude we see because she thinks I’m too lonely or something and I just do not want her to even have a smidgen of notion that she’s right.

“Fair. Honestly, I don’t want to hear it from her either.”

Matt put his coffee mug in your sink before making his way to you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Maybe you can make it up to me though, let me cook for you at my place on Friday?”

“Mmm you cook?”

“I do.”

“You any good?”

Matt scoffed at your question, letting his eyes roll as he playfully smirked and drew you into his arms.

“I haven’t ever heard any complaints.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna make for me?”

“I have a shrimp scampi recipe that’s my go to. You’re gonna love it, sweetheart.”

“I like shrimp scampi.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

The gala was a great time, even without Matt’s presence. You were exhausted though when you finally walked through the door of your apartment shortly after midnight. Wasting no time, you kicked off your shoes and changed into something comfortable. Just as you were about to shut off all the lights and head to bed, you heard a thud come from your fire escape.

You had joked with Matt earlier about Daredevil one day maybe making an appearance late in the night, but with him being vague about his stance as a vigilante lately, you didn’t think he’d actually commit to the joke.

With a roll of your eyes, you made your way to the window, unlocking it and tugging it open.

You weren’t expecting to see Frank standing there instead.

“Jesus! Frank, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.”

The tender way his eyes scanned you nearly had you crumpling to your knees. Frank always looked tired, but right now, only bathed in the light of the city and hastily shoving his hands in his coat pocket, did you realize how broken he looked. As you took in the sight of him before you, all the feelings you’d been pushing to the side in the days since you’d seen him last came flooding in. A burning welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat only grew by the second.

A week and a half was not a long time to go without hearing from Frank usually. But this was different. Things had shifted between the two of you after that night.

The way your gaze tore down and away from him broke his resolve, coming to stand before you in one large stride and leaning into the window sill to gently take your face in his hand.

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he kissed you fiercely, not like the heated and desperate kisses you shared last time, but soft and full of yearning. As if he was trying to throw every apology he couldn’t back up with true action into his kisses.

It didn’t take long to get you inside. He didn’t bother to break his lips away from yours as the two of you bumped around your dim apartment until he found your bedroom.

The measured way he undressed you and laid you down consumed you with an understanding; this was his goodbye. His 11 o’clock number in the story that was the two of you. Not unprepared by the heat of the moment like last time and the awkwardness that followed, but carefully planned to take you apart and put you back together as a parting gift.

But still, you allowed it all to happen. To let the car crash just to stand in the glow of the flames to keep yourself warm, if only temporarily.

Frank’s skin was heated as he pressed his bare chest against yours, clinging to your skin in a desperate attempt to keep you as close as physically possible. He shuddered softly and nuzzled his carved nose into the dip of your collar bone, gently tugging at your thigh to pull your leg up as he pushed inside you slowly.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby.”

All you could do was whimper quietly and hold on while he made love to you, trying so hard to enjoy the moment and not overthink.

And as the two of you laid there in the mellow afterglow and you dozed off in his arms, limbs still tangled together and covered in a light sheen of sweat, you let yourself finally hope.

Maybe he’ll stay.

But when you woke up, still in a daze of pleasure, the cold sheets beside you let you know; Frank was gone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Now

The abandoned warehouse smelled mustier than usual thanks to all the rain that had fallen on New York this past weekend. It made you sad to think that this is how Frank lived, only surviving in cold, barely habitable hideouts, only eating canned food and plotting his next hit. You made your way through the echoing hall, bobbing and weaving through the doors and tunnels as you navigated. After your last encounter, you were certain you’d never see him again.

Now things were different.

Matt handled the information that Frank was the other potential father to your child shockingly well. You knew many a conversation needed to happen about how you all wanted to proceed further, as well as you finally getting the full story on their history. Matt agreed to let you have the space to tell Frank the news on your own though. You were tempted to text or call him but knew it would all go unanswered anyway. So, you came here to tell him in person.

You finally reached the door you were seeking, covered in chipped paint and rust from years of neglect. Trying your hardest not to startle him, you knocked just loud enough so that he could hear you.

“Frank?”

No answer.

Just in case Frank was hiding in a corner with a weapon or something, you gingerly turned the handle and poked your head in slowly so he had plenty of time to see it was you.

But the room was too dark to see anything. When you flipped on the light switch, you swore you heard the sound of your heart dropping.

The cold concrete room was mostly empty. Free of all Frank’s gear; his carefully organized supply of guns and amo, his stockpiled perishable grocery supply, the ratty mattress on the floor. All gone. All that remained were a few shelves and lockers; cleaned of all the things that once sat in them, and the worn metal desk; which had on top of it only one thing.

Frank’s old Marine sweatshirt.

It wasn’t odd for Frank to move locations from time to time. You tried to calm yourself with this information and stop from jumping to the worst case scenario as you reached in your back pocket and retrieved your phone.

You only had the number of his latest burner. The calling tone only rang out once before there were three beeps and a robotic voice spoke.

“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”

It was as if a landmine went off in your heart, sending splatters of veins and ventricles into every direction of the cinder block cave. All at once it felt as if the room was spinning and your knees wobbled. You picked the neatly folded clothing article off the desk and held it close as you choked out a sob and crumpled to the floor.

Frank was gone. No note. No way of contacting him or finding him. Just gone.

And you were pregnant. And there was a very good chance the baby was his.

And you loved him.

Your heaving cries stopped just as suddenly as they started when you heard footsteps behind you. They were slow and clearly being intentionally loud enough for you to hear.

“Frank?!” you cried out, whipping your head around to see him enter the abandoned hideout.

But Frank was not standing there, ready to pick you up off the floor and comfort you.

Matt’s lips pursed in a grimace as he crossed the room toward you, tightly gripping his cane. His expression read of pity for sure, but also with an air of “I told you so and I really wished I would have been wrong” to it. It took him little effort to lift you off the floor and pull you into his strong embrace as your tears flowed once more.

“You said you were going to let me do this alone.” you coughed out

“I know. But I was waiting just down the hall, listening. I needed to hear how this went. To make sure you were okay.”

“Frank wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I know, sweetheart. But I didn’t trust him to not be an asshole.”

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s gone.”

“I know.”

Another wave of tears washed over you. You breathed out Matt’s name out in a plead, decibels below a whisper so that only he would ever hear. His lips came to press softly into your hair as he comforted you. Nuzzling into his strong hand as he cupped your face, he reassured you over and over.

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Running his fingers along your cheek to wipe away the tears, Matt pressed his forehead to yours as he heard your breathing finally begin to even out.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You and I. Well do this together.”

“What if it’s Franks?”

“I don’t care. I don’t.”

“I can’t hear your heartbeat but I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not. You and this baby; I’m going to love you both and we’ll be a family. We don’t need Frank to complicate that.”

Love

The word sent an icy dagger into your heart. Could he? Could you ever? You took a step back, wiping the last of the salty droplets from your cheeks.

“You sure you don’t want a paternity test?”

The chuckle Matt released reverberated in the echoing space. He shook his head, moistening his perfectly pouty lips before speaking again.

“I’m sure.”

“I thought a lawyer would be smarter than that.” you said with an attempt at a smile, albeit a melancholic one

“You know sweetheart, my dad died when I was young. He made a stupid decision and left me all alone. And my mom wasn’t in my life, well not in the way I needed her. But that’s even more complicated...”

It shocked you a little bit that Matt Murdock had not always been a charming, smart-mouthed, successful lawyer; but at one time had actually been a scared little boy who had been hurt by the world. The way he tilted his head up in the dim fluorescent light as he swallowed thickly, recounting his family history, made you wonder how much there was to his story and if he’d be willing to tell you sometime.

“Anyway, they both chose to leave me in their own ways. I didn’t have them there when I needed them most. And I promise you right now, I will not repeat their mistakes. I will not let this child; our child, feel abandoned.”

The way he said ‘our child’ lit a glimmer of hope inside you like seeing a lighthouse through a storm. Matt’s earnest sincerity made you actually believe him, if only a little bit.

“Okay. We’ll do this together.”

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