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#Matt Murdock fluff
bellaxgiornata · 2 days
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Acquaintances
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings/tags: 18+; bit of light angst, running into exes, brief fluff, and a hopeful ending
Summary: He was once the love of your life in college–someone you'd been planning a future with–but seeing him now, he felt just like a past acquaintance in a bar.
a/n: So the concept for this one shot was something that I'd written about back in a creative fiction writing course years ago and figured would be fun to rehash with Matt (who forced my hand with the hopeful ending). But that whole idea of knowing someone so intimately and then not knowing them at all is just...weird and relatable. Also, this is set more towards future Born Again era if you can't tell by all the facial hair. Feedback is always appreciated!
Matt Murdock one shot tag list: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @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
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“Ohh, wait,” Olivia said, catching your attention as she came to an abrupt stop. “What about this place?” 
Stopping on the sidewalk next to her, the city foot traffic began to stream around the pair of you. Your gaze followed her finger to the bar she was pointing at that you’d both stopped beside. ‘Josie’s’ was glaring back at you in red neon through the window. Taking a step closer to the glass, your feet unsteady in your heels from the couple of drinks you’d had earlier, you peered inside at the bar.
“Here?” you asked her skeptically.
You pulled a face at the dive bar before you, your eyes catching sight of the many gruff-looking men in cut-off shirts throwing back bottles of beer at the bar. The sound of rock music was noticeable even from your place on the sidewalk, and there was a sports game playing on the television that was hanging on the wall beside the bar. Despite you both living in Hell’s Kitchen, this place looked nothing like the usual bars the pair of you frequented to drink–certainly nothing like the bar the pair of you had just left.
Looking back over your shoulder, you raised a brow at your friend. “You want to go here ? I thought we were walking home.”
Olivia pouted back at you. “Oh come on, please?” she asked. “Live a little tonight. For me? Please just try something new? We can stop here for just one drink and then call it a night. For real, this time.”
Sighing, you threw your hands up in defeat. “Fine, if that’s what you want,” you relented. “It’s your promotion we’re celebrating. If you really want to finish your night out at a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen, then I suppose I’ll support you.”
“Great!” she exclaimed.
Not waiting for you to rescind your answer, she excitedly grabbed you by the hand and tugged you forward towards the door of the bar. Throwing it open wide, Olivia sauntered inside on her heels as if she hadn't just finished throwing back shots at another bar a few blocks away. You stepped inside behind her, running a hand nervously through your hair as Olivia continued to drag you over towards the bar.
When the pair of you reached the counter, you squeezed between your friend and the back of a burly man. Eyeing the sticky bar counter, you very carefully rested your hands against it as beside you, Olivia caught the attention of the older woman tending the bar. You noticed she was also dressed in a cut-off shirt, a dirty towel slung over her shoulder and a frown on her face. As she made her way over, you could see the way she scrutinized the pair of you like you didn’t belong.
“Can I get you two something?” she asked roughly, resting both of her hands against the opposite side of the counter. 
“Do you have a wine list?” Olivia asked. 
The woman behind the bar shot her a flat look. “No, I don't,” she answered simply.
“Then we'll take two glasses of whatever red you have,” Olivia continued unphased, the wide smile still on her face. 
Wordlessly the woman turned away, grabbing two wine glasses and beginning to work on pouring your drinks. Shifting to the side, Olivia rested an elbow on the bar as she focused back on you, beginning to dig through her purse.
“A wine list, seriously?” you asked her, opening up your own purse. “Here?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn't hurt to ask.”
“Right, well, I don't know what your intention with coming here was, but I doubt it'll be to experience a good merlot before we head home,” you teased. 
Olivia shrugged again, throwing some cash on the bar before you'd managed to dig it out of your own wallet. 
“My treat here, you've bought me enough drinks tonight,” she told you.
You opened your mouth to protest but were cut short by the surly bartender roughly setting two wine glasses onto the bar beside you. You shot her a friendly smile as you reached a hand out to grab the stem of one of the glasses, but the woman's expression still remained sour and unchanged.
“Enjoy,” she said flatly. 
Without another word, she grabbed the cash from the bar and turned, walking away to focus on another patron. Picking up your glass of wine, you exchanged a look with Olivia as she grabbed hers. 
“Such friendly service here at least,” Olivia joked.
You laughed, raising your glass out towards her. “Just remember this was your choice to come here,” you said. “But congratulations once again on the promotion. I know you heard that plenty when we were back drinking with everyone at Rosewood, but I'm proud of you. And I just want to add that I hope your wardrobe increases along with that new salary of yours because you deserve it.”
“Amen,” she replied with a grin, tapping her glass to yours.
You brought your glass up to your lips, drinking down some of the wine at the same time as Olivia beside you. Though it was bitter and unpleasant as it passed over your tongue and you pulled a face while reluctantly swallowing it down. Next to you, Olivia cringed as she set her own glass back onto the bar counter. 
“Well, it'll at least help get us drunk,” she muttered, making a face at the wine glass. “So there’s that.”
“Not exactly my goal tonight,” you reminded her.
“I'm still going to get you to relax one way or another tonight,” she said, pointing a finger at your chest. “But first, I might need to use the bathroom.”
Her eyes darted around the dimly lit bar as she began to search for the bathrooms. Slipping your phone out of your purse, you turned to face the bar counter more fully.
“I'll keep an eye on your drink then,” you told her.
She murmured a quick ‘thank you’ before slipping past you, making her way through the bar and towards the bathrooms. Unlocking your phone screen, you began to scroll through your work emails as you waited for her. Absently you picked up your glass of wine again, taking another sip. You immediately winced as the unpleasant taste hit your tongue once more and quickly set the glass back down, pushing it slightly away from yourself.
As you continued skimming through one of your messages while waiting for Olivia to return, someone roughly bumped into your elbow as they sidled up to the bar next to you. Your hands fumbled with your phone as it slipped momentarily out of your grasp. Hurriedly, you attempted to catch it before it could drop down onto the dirty floor.
“Shit, sorry,” the man beside you quickly apologized.
Finally getting a grasp on your phone, you glanced over at the man that had bumped into you, lips parting to say something back to him. But the sight of him caused you to pause, your mouth left hanging open. Something about him seemed oddly familiar as you stared at the side of his face. 
“Josie!” he called out, waving the surly bartender over and paying you no mind. “We need another pitcher of beer!”
“I'm not putting it on your nonexistent tab, Nelson,” she replied, picking up an empty pitcher. 
Nelson? Why had that name sounded familiar?
“Oh come on, we're your favorite patrons and you know it!” the man said.
The sight of the woman actually breaking into a smile as she began to fill the pitcher took you by surprise, briefly breaking through your attempt to wrack your partially inebriated mind for how you knew the man beside you. 
Brows drawing together as you glanced back down at your phone, you kept repeating the name ‘Nelson’ over and over in your mind. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man look over his shoulder at you before focusing back on the bartender. But then you saw him quickly do a double-take, his attention fixing back on you. You frowned, now entirely positive you somehow knew each other.
“Holy shit,” he breathed out. Swiftly turning where he stood, the man faced you and said your name in something like shock. “Is it really you?”
Lowering your phone, you glanced back up at him. And then it fully hit you now that you weren't staring at his profile. Despite the hair he now wore cropped vastly shorter than back in college, the facial hair he’d clearly grown out, and the fact that he'd traded band shirts for a suit, you recognized him as Franklin Nelson–your college boyfriend's absolute best friend.
“Foggy?” you asked, surprised.
Josie set the pitcher of beer on the counter, her eyes dancing curiously between the pair of you. “You two know each other?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Foggy answered, a look of shock still on his face as he continued to stare at you. “We were close in college. She dated Matt for a long time. But I haven't seen you in years !” He reached a hand out, roughly clapping you on the shoulder. “How the hell have you been?”
“Uh, good,” you said, still surprised that you'd run into him. “How've you been doing?”
“Good, good. Believe it or not, Matt and I actually did it,” he told you excitedly. “We opened our own law firm!”
Brows rising up onto your forehead in surprise, you felt something stir in your chest at his name mentioned once more. It had been so long since you'd thought about him now. Even longer since you'd last seen him.
Matthew Murdock. You'd dated back when you'd both been going to Columbia. You’d both met in a philosophy class that you'd taken during your early college courses while working on your different degrees. The heated debates in class between you and Matt had led to discussions which had carried on outside of classes. And those had quickly devolved into grabbing drinks together while Matt openly flirted with you. Eventually the pair of you had begun to date, becoming nearly inseparable outside of classes. Until your graduation day, of course. 
Your breakup with Matt had been the hardest breakup you'd ever endured when things had finally ended. It had ultimately been a fairly amicable split despite the pain of the situation, though. But you'd never spoken to him after you graduated, even after sending him one final text a week later simply saying you were sorry. He'd never responded to that text.
“Oh, wow, that's impressive,” you said, trying to ignore the weird feeling suddenly stirring inside of you. “I'm surprised you guys actually did it. That’s–that’s great, really.”
“You know, you should actually come say hi,” Foggy told you, enthusiastically gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “Matt's here, too.”
For a moment you stood there awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as you gaped at Foggy. That strange and unfamiliar feeling began to writhe in your gut, one you were sure had nothing to do with the terrible wine you'd just been drinking. The thought of seeing Matt again with the history you two had after all these years that had passed just felt…odd. 
“I'm sorry, is that weird?” Foggy asked when you hadn't responded. His nose scrunched up on his face as he nodded, studying the look on your own face. “Yeah, that's weird, isn't it? Who wants to see their ex, right?”
“I–”
“Hey, who's this?” Olivia asked, reappearing on the other side of Foggy and eyeing him curiously. “You make a new friend already while I was gone?”
Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “Actually, Liv, this is an old friend of mine from college,” you told her. 
“Oh my God, that’s right!” Olivia exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “You did go to college nearby!”
Foggy immediately turned towards Olivia, sticking his hand out towards her with a large smile on his face. “Foggy Nelson, nice to meet you,” he greeted her.
“Olivia Martinez,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand in return. “So I take it the pair of you were catching up?”
“Somewhat,” Foggy answered, watching as she grabbed her glass from off the bar beside you. “I'd actually just stuck my foot in my mouth asking if she wanted to go say hi to her college ex. I mean that’s weird, right?”
Olivia's eyes lit up at his words and your shoulders slumped at the sight. You knew where this was heading. 
“Your ex is here?” she asked curiously, eyes darting between you and Foggy. 
“Apparently so,” you answered awkwardly. “But look, we are here celebrating you and–”
“No, no, no!” she exclaimed, waving a hand at you. “I don't mind at all! We can go say hi if you want. I'd certainly love to meet your college friends. Maybe hear some embarrassing stories.”
You stood there, your heart speeding up in your chest nervously as both Foggy and Olivia continued to stare expectantly at you, waiting for a response. Mouth feeling dry, you reached your hand out and grabbed your glass of wine from off the counter beside you, forcing a smile onto your face.
“Okay, yeah, sure,” you replied. “I can–can go say hi, I guess.”
“Great!” Foggy exclaimed, reaching past you to grab the pitcher of beer Josie had set down a bit ago now. “You can meet our other firm partner, too. Karen Page. You’ll love her, I promise.”
You hummed out a noise in response, grateful Olivia was at least excitedly talking Foggy’s ear off as you began to follow behind him through the bar. Raising your wine glass to your lips as you walked, you drank a few deep gulps of it down and fought back your urge to gag at the taste. Seeing Matt again certainly hadn’t been on your agenda for the evening, and now you worried about how seeing him was going to make you feel with the way your body was already beginning to react at just the prospect of it. 
In your final year at Columbia, you swore Matt was going to be the one. You’d had plans to get an apartment together in Hell’s Kitchen after your graduation. Matt had even been the one to suggest the idea of moving in together, often talking about how excited he would be to finally have you all to himself, not having to worry about roommates and dorm room rules anymore. You’d grown excited at the idea too, already imagining how your lives would blend together as you both steadily found your place in the city. You’d even begun picturing marrying Matt–though you’d planned for that to be far later, years farther down the road still. Sometimes Matt himself seemed to even hint at your futures entwining together with how he talked about plans he was making. Everything had always sounded so perfect, feeling like both your lives were easily falling into place as if they were always meant to. 
For the duration of your senior year the pair of you had been planning everything out together, covering every detail as you both laid awake–sometimes in Matt’s dorm, sometimes in yours. You’d be wrapped around each other, hands clasped together, discussing everything from how you’d furnish the apartment, to dividing up chores, to future date plans when you both weren’t so broke. You’d both even talked about getting a cat, joking back and forth about names and never being able to agree on one. But the entire beautiful image the pair of you had been painting together had shattered to pieces when you’d been offered a job all the way out in Miami, Florida.  
There’d been a job fair shortly before graduation. A friend of yours had talked you into attending with her and you’d gone, hoping to line up a few prospects somewhere in the city and end up with something in order to afford the apartment you and Matt had both been hoping to get together. It was just because your friend had encouraged you that you’d done it, leaving your resume with a recruiter for a position that you knew was in Miami while knowing full well Matt had no interest in ever leaving Hell’s Kitchen. He’d told you countless times over the years that this city was his home. You honestly hadn’t expected a damn thing to come of it though, forgetting entirely about the job shortly afterwards. But a few days after the job fair you’d been asked for a phone interview and barely a day later you’d been offered the job. And it had been the only job offer you’d received.
You’d cried in your dorm for two nights straight, lying to Matt about why you couldn’t see him and telling him you’d felt sick. And truthfully you had felt sick to your stomach. Part of you was tempted to reject the offer, knowing at some point you could have found something in the city here and continued on the path you’d already planned out with Matt. But the certainty of a job and a salary with an amount you could barely fathom what to do with had you struggling to say no. The only thing holding you back from accepting it had been Matt. If you knew he’d have come with you to Miami, you’d have immediately taken the position.
Eventually through tears you’d told Matt what was going on and why you’d been avoiding him. How you’d been struggling back and forth with figuring out how to make the right decision on something so big. He’d been the one to solemnly take your hands in his and insist that you take the job, telling you it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He promised the pair of you would figure things out, maybe manage something long distance for a brief bit while he finished his law degree. But as the final weeks passed for you at Columbia, things had grown tense between you two. And after graduation, you’d come to the heartbreaking decision to end things with him, not knowing how a long distance relationship would work with the way things had already started to fall apart. Still dressed in your powder blue cap and gown, you broke down on campus amidst all the other excited students as you ended the years long relationship with Matt. You’d both sat together on Columbia’s lawn for an hour afterwards, crying and holding each other as you said your goodbyes.
And that had been the last time you’d ever seen Matt.
Until right this very moment as you approached the table he was sitting at, Foggy and Olivia walking a few steps ahead of you. Matt was sitting beside a pretty blonde, the pair of them laughing lightly with each other. For the briefest moment your feet faltered on the sticky bar floor as your heart nearly lurched straight out of your throat at the sight of him. He’d certainly changed over the years, but you could still tell it was Matt beneath those red glasses, that dark beard, and the crisp navy suit. 
But at the same time, it was difficult marrying the image of the man sitting right there with the same one you’d known all those years ago. Gone was the fresh shaven face and his black, rectangular glasses you’d always known. The hands that were currently holding an almost empty glass of beer might have been the same hands that had once tenderly held you all those years ago on the night you’d lost your virginity to him. They might have once been hands that had carefully and gently loved you, hands that had held yours and comforted you, but now they were attached to a man you didn’t even know anymore. 
The feeling that washed over you as Foggy greeted the table was impossible to capture into words. It was something that felt jarring and unsettling as you stared at him. Years ago you’d planned to have a future with him, but looking at him now, he felt almost like an acquaintance you barely knew despite the intimate past you both shared. 
Your hands tightened around the stem of your wine glass, your pulse racing as you mentally kicked yourself for agreeing to come say hello to him. He was practically a stranger to you now, both of you having lived entirely separate lives for longer than you’d even been together. What were you even supposed to say to him? He couldn’t possibly care about catching up with his college ex. 
“Matt, you are not going to believe who I ran into at the bar!” Foggy exclaimed.
You continued standing just a step behind Olivia as if you could somehow hide behind her. But as Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side–an adorable habit of his you were surprised to see he still did–the blonde at the table focused her eyes past Olivia and on you. She shot you a warm and friendly smile as if she could see the nerves written on your face, but the sight of it did nothing to slow the frantic pounding of your heart. You felt like you were going to be sick as Olivia continued to stand there, openly gawking at Matt.
“Who?” Matt asked curiously, a crease forming between his brows.
Foggy said your name and you watched as recognition gradually dawned across Matt’s face. It suddenly felt like the bar was closing in on you, both of your hands growing damp against the wine glass you were clutching.
“Wait, she’s here?” Matt asked next, shock evident in his tone. “Here in Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Yeah, buddy, I was just as surprised as you are! I told her she should come say hi because it’s been so damn long,” Foggy answered before glancing back at you, a bright smile on his face.
Thankfully Olivia spoke up first, giving you a chance to find your voice as you stood there, your eyes roving over Matt’s face. There was something strange in the way that it was familiar yet so changed. And in the years since you’d last seen him, he’d only grown more handsome.
“Wait, that’s your ex?” Olivia said, gesturing a hand towards Matt. “You mean to tell me you two dated in college?”
Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, you nodded slightly. “Yeah,” you answered, your voice sounding a little off. “For a few years.”
Matt’s gaze immediately landed on you when you’d spoken, his brows twitching faintly above his glasses. It was hard to read the expression on his face with the way they were covering his eyes. Eyes that you’d always thought were so beautiful and expressive, whether it was when he was arguing with you in an impassioned, philosophical debate, or fondly focused on you as he confessed that he was in love with you. 
“I thought you were in Miami?” Matt questioned.
Swallowing hard, you tried to keep your trembling knees from giving out beneath you under the heavy weight of his sightless stare. How was seeing him again after all of these years having such an effect on you? 
“Yeah, I was,” you answered, aware of three other sets of eyes curiously darting between the pair of you. “Until almost a year ago. I was looking for a change and missing the city. Grew tired of the humidity and hurricanes, too,” you lightly joked.
A faint smile tugged the corner of Matt’s mouth upwards, your gaze dropping towards the movement. It was once the same mouth you’d kissed so many times before without even thinking about it. A mouth that had spoken so many encouragements and declarations of love to you, but also one that had told you jokes and brought you pleasure in ways that no other mouth ever had since. It was both familiar and not all at once.
“So you came back?” Matt asked.
  “I came back,” you repeated softly. “Suppose it’s no surprise you’re still in Hell’s Kitchen though.”
He shot you a small smile as he nodded his head. “I never could manage to leave it,” he told you.
For a moment the pair of you stood there, eyeing each other wordlessly in your own ways as the sound of the bar filled the growing silence. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Olivia watching you curiously, swirling her wine in her glass. To your left, you could see a smile gradually spreading across Foggy’s face before he glanced over at the blonde.
“Who says we pull up two more chairs?” Foggy suggested, loudly breaking the lull in conversation. “We can all get to know each other! Get reacquainted again and catch up!”
“I think that sounds like a great idea,” the blonde replied, that friendly smile never leaving her face.
“I agree,” Matt said, still focused on you.
Glancing over at Olivia, you saw the mischievous grin growing on her face. She gave you a slight nod of encouragement, her eyes pointedly telling you to say yes. Nervously biting your lip, you glanced back over at Foggy.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “That sounds good.”
Foggy beamed back at you before he turned, grabbing two more chairs from a nearby table and drawing them over to where the others were sitting. The blonde slid over to make room at the table, introducing herself as Karen as she did. Olivia was fast to introduce herself to the group, quickly making herself comfortable in a chair. 
Hesitantly you made your way over to the table, sitting down in the last open seat which was on Matt’s left. Setting your glass of wine onto the table, you slowly lowered yourself into the chair beside him. Matt immediately focused his attention on you and you ducked your head, feeling even more nervous sitting beside him after all of these years. 
“Hey,” he greeted you softly.
“Hey,” you greeted just as quietly back.
“It’s been awhile,” he said.
“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes. “Quite a few years.”
“Guess that means we have some catching up to do,” he told you, a smile gradually growing on his face.
Your eyes spotted the lone dimple of his; it was just barely visible beneath his dark beard, but it was there. Some other feeling began to gradually fill you at the sight of it, this one warm and familiar in comparison to the way you'd first felt when you’d spotted him sitting at the table. You always had loved that lone dimple. 
“Yeah, I guess that does,” you replied, gradually smiling back at him.
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amberlynnmurdock · 4 months
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Neighbor
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: You're Matt Murdock's neighbor, and one night he hears you pray.
Words: Under 1k
A/N: I just be posting anything now lol wrote this in my notes app hope you like it!!!
The building was quiet most of the time, but unfortunately for Matt Murdock, that wasn't the case, ever. Most people couldn't hear apartments three doors down and the conversations that went on in them. But Matt could. And he could never avoid them.
He distracted himself from the outside noise with menial chores–cleaning whatever dishes were left in the sink, reorganizing glasses in the cabinet, and practicing his fighting. But when dusting and cleaning wasn't enough, when even the music he played couldn't drown out the noise, he tended to listen to a particular apartment: hers.
She lived alone. Right across the hall, diagonal from his own door. Of all the apartments he was forced to listen to day in and day out, hers was the most peaceful. The quietest. She didn't have loud conversations with anyone, she didn't have a dog who would bark in the middle of the night. Instead, she had a teapot on the stove that would whistle when ready; she spent most nights quietly flipping through pages of a book. She got up to that annoying phone alarm and trotted to the bathroom to get ready for work. Matt's not sure what she does, but sometimes he hears her come home late when he's about to get ready to patrol the streets as Daredevil.
Matt realized going over this in his head was a little more than creepy and trod the thin line of being a stalker, but his heightened senses and what they picked up on were unavoidable. The times he couldn't focus on anything else or tune out the other noises in the apartment he focused on hers because it was the most calming to his senses.
He's only run into her a handful of times on the rare occasion they both leave for work in the morning. One time, they both exited their apartments at the same time. She quietly waved good morning until she realized she waved at a blind man and then uttered a more audible "good morning." Most people would ignore the realization and awkwardly go about their day, but not her. She always made sure to say good morning from then on. Matt liked that–no, liked you.
Matt found himself eager to get home after work more often than not, in hopes of coming home at the same time as her. Anything to get a small interaction would be enough for him. Even if it was as small as her holding the door for him or wishing him a good night. He looked forward to these small interactions so much that if they didn't happen, Matt would have a much less than good day.
One night, though, when he was just about to let himself fall asleep after a rather rough night patrolling Hell's Kitchen, he heard her. He heard her in a way he hadn't before. From the hiccups, to the shaky breaths, and the lingering taste of salt in the air, he knew she was crying.
Matt shot up in bed as he began to listen more intently–what happened?
"Please, God," he heard her whispered prayer, "Please make sure I make it home safe and unharmed from work. Please. There's so much violence in this city and I'm scared to walk alone at night."
Matt took a shaky breath, gripping his silk sheets in his hands. She was scared, he confirmed. Well, rest assured, he thought. Tomorrow night, he would make sure she arrived home safely from work himself.
TO BE CONTINUED??? IDK.
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farfromstrange · 2 months
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S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"
Word Count: 1.8k
A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!
Read me on AO3
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The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend. 
All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.
He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach. 
With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode. 
Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.
His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.
Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him. 
You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate. 
His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.
“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”
“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again. 
He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”
“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.
You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end. 
You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically. 
He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you. 
“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.
You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick. 
“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”
The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip. 
He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp. 
You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.
And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.
He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.
You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him. 
You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.
Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.
His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs. 
Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock. 
“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”
You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.
“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.” 
A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you. 
When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.
He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it. 
As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot. 
You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.
“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Fuck!”
“Come for me.”
The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you. 
You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you. 
“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.
You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.
“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”
It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace. 
Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him. 
It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.
When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough. 
He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely. 
Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off. 
He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.
Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down. 
“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur. 
He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”
“What time is it?”
You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.
“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact. 
“It’s not?”
“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”
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Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months
Text
the croissants
buttercup, chapter one
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a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.
summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.
warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)
word count: 2415
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
series masterlist | next chapter
masterlist | join my taglist
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“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?” 
Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”
“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”
“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”
Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.
“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”
“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.” 
“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.” 
Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”
“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”
“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”
As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”
“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out. 
Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”
“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”
“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.” 
“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.
“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.
“Bye!”
You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up. 
Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door. 
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up. 
Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.
“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?” 
“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.
“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”
But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”
Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off. 
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open. 
“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment. 
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Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own. 
“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!” 
Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around. 
“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him. 
Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”
“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”
“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”
“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.” 
After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.
“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”
“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined. 
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first. 
“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”
“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction. 
“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”
“Oh, uhm, yeah.”
“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”
“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”
“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?” 
“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”
“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”
“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”
“You?”
“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship. 
“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”
“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”
“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”
“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.
“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”
“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”
“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”
“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”
“Yep.”
“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”
“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”
“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.” 
“Really?” 
“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”
“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”
“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”
“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words. 
But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”
The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.
Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”
Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”
Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”
“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”
“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”
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Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks. 
As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips. 
Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?” 
“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue. 
“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”
“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”
“Sure, I like croissants.”
“Oh, great, wonderful!”
Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”
“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear. 
It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again. 
“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.” 
As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.  
“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!” 
And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared. 
“Night.”
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 month
Text
enter sandman - m. murdock
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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.
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peterman-spideyparker · 2 months
Text
Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)
Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.
Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head
Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page
Word Count: 3,586
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Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.
“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”
“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”
Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”
“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”
“I don’t—.”
“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”
“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”
“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”
“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.
“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”
“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.
“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.
“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”
“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”
“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”
“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”
Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.
“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”
“Well, she knows.”
He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.
Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.
“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.
“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”
“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”
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Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.
Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.
“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.
“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”
“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.
“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”
He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.
“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.
“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.
“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.
“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.
“I—!”
You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.
“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”
Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.
“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close. 
“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”
You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.
You’re ovulating.
And you know it.
Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants. 
“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.
“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even. 
“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”
You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”
Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.
“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.
“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”
You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.
“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”
With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes. 
“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”
“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”
You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.
Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.
“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”
“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”
Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.
Shit. He loves you. 
He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life. 
“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.
Yeah, he loves you.
“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”
“Kay,” you hum.
Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes. 
“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same. 
“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”
Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”
The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”
“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”
Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt. 
“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.
“Completely,” he smiles. 
Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists. 
“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight. 
“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”
He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard. 
“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”
You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.
“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum. 
You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.
“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle. 
“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk. 
“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”
“Are we now?”
“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”
Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.
“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress. 
“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin. 
His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra. 
“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.
“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.
“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”
“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.
“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”
You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.
“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”
“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”
He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder. 
“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”
“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”
“Yours! I’m yours!”
Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.
Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.
“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”
“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”
Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.
The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.
“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”
Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”
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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia
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bunmurdock · 2 months
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just working | matt murdock x f!reader
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summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind. tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love. word count: 1.9k a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭
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“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.
“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.
you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.
“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”
"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.
"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.
"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance. 
"i’m always serious,” you retort. 
he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.
“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.
"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.
“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.
"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.
foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.
matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.
"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face. 
“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”
"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”
“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.
you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.
you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.
“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.
as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?” 
a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.
“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.
it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.
after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps. 
cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.
“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.
you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.
“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”
you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.
“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.
“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.
you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.
he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.
“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.
“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest. 
“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.
“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.” 
“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.
“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.
“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”
you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”
“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”
you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his. 
“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”
“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.
you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings. 
it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.
he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.
you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you. 
~
you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.
“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”
"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.
matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.
matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."
you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.
“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.
hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you. 
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Hello!
If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?
sorry this is my first time requesting lmao
hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌
HEARTBEATS.
matt murdock x fem!reader
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word count. 481
Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 
Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.
-
You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.
You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.
"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.
"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 
His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 
Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 
You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.
He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 
"Matt?" 
"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.
"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.
"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.
"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.
He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 
"We're going to have a baby?"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad
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saberlight1 · 2 months
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pretty boy — matt murdock
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pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader.
warnings: language, fluff, established relationship, standard daredevil warnings.
authors note: hiii! since rewatching daredevil, my matt and frank obsession has been back up n running (not that i’m complaining). and this is based on this request, thank you anon <3. i love this little fluffy fic, i hope you enjoy this!
masterlist
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You watched the snowflakes fall with a calm smile on your face. You had always adored this time of year, especially when it snowed. It was just something about how the never ending buzzing of Hell’s Kitchen would just stop for a moment— just peace and quiet. It never failed to calm your nerves, whatever worries that were on your mind washing away with the snow hitting the ground.
You were sat on your boyfriend’s couch wrapped up in a blanket with a book in your hand, soaking in the tranquility that this type of weather brought you. Matt’s apartment was always one of your favorite places— it was always so quiet and the big, open windows granted you a sight to Hell’s Kitchen. Even with the bright build-board right outside, you still loved it. Most of all, you loved it because it was his. Everything in the apartment reminded you of Matt, thats why you spent as much time as possible here.
“Sweetheart?” Matt’s call broke you from your thoughts, and your heart swelled at his voice. You stood up immediately, walking over to where he was kicking off his shoes and jacket by the door.
“Hi, baby,” You smiled, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as his hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer.
“Hi,” He whispered as you took off his sunglasses. The second the lenses were off his eyes, the man brought his lips to yours.
Your smile only grew against his lips as you dug one of your hands into his hair— the man before you only growing more greedy against your lips.
You pulled back for air, a teasing look on your features. Matt may not have sight, but he could always tell when that look crossed your face. “Someone missed me, huh?” You cheekily teased.
His cold hands dove under the material of your— his shirt, causing a yelp to leave your lips as you attempted to get away from him.
He smiled brightly at you. “Of course I missed you,” His cold hands only traveled further up your back, and you knew the sneaky fucker could probably hear the goosebumps rising on your skin.
“Stop!” You giggled, trying to fight your way out of his arms, but you knew it was fruitless.
“Okay, okay,” He chuckled, relenting his cold hands from your warm skin. “‘m sorry, you’re just warm and it was fuckin’ freezing out there.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, your hands grabbing his own from your hips and wrapping them within your own in an attempt to warm them up. “I told you that this morning. Just because you’re the big, bad Daredevil doesn’t mean you don’t get cold, my love.” You joked, interlacing your fingers and leading him to your shared room.
He rolled his own eyes with a smile at your remark, you never failed to tease him for his vigilante ways— even when he came to you half dead and you had to patch him up, you still found a way to crack a joke to see his smile.
“Here,” You turned to him with a hoodie and sweatpants in your hands. “Get out of that suit so we can cuddle on the couch.” You left a kiss on his lips before turning on your heel and walking towards the kitchen.
Matt shook his head with a laugh, but did as he was told regardless. Once he was settled, he made his way towards where you were in the kitchen. You smiled softly when you felt his chest against your back and his arms slither around your waist. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he left small kisses along your neck.
“Hot chocolate, huh?” He murmured against your neck.
You rolled your eyes playfully at his use of his senses. “Yep, might help you warm up, Frozone.” You joked.
“I know you did not just compare me to that dude from Incredibles.” He scoffed, feigning offensiveness.
You giggled. “How do you even know that?”
“Honey, my ears still work.” He pinched your hip lightly. “When that movie came out all the kids at the orphanage loved it. Had to hear it at least three times a day,”
You grimaced at the thought. “That must’ve been torture, havin’ to constantly hear the plot of that movie.”
“It was.” He agreed.
“Don’t tell me you hate that movie, though.” You looked at him from over your shoulder, holding up a finger. “‘Cause that was my favorite Disney movie for a while..”
He started tickling you immediately, a loud squeal leaving your lips. “Oh, my girl has a basic taste in Disney movies?” He teased with a smile, talking slightly loud over your laughter. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Matthew!” You wheezed out, thrashing in his grip. He finally relented as you laid against him while you attempted to catch your breath. “Didn’t know you were so passionate about my taste..”
“Well, I gotta let you know if it’s a basic one.” He shrugged, a smirk on his lips.
“If it’s so basic, then how’d I pick you?” You bit back with raised brows.
A breathy chuckle escaped him, before he paused to lick his lips. “Fair play, honey.”
You only smiled in return, turning back to pour the pair of you a mug of hot chocolate. Matt let his eyes flutter shut behind you, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he relaxed to the sounds of just simply: you.
You smiled when you noticed what he was doing, one of your hands coming up to scratch his scalp. “It’s ready,” You softly said.
He pulled away from you to grab his mug. “Thank you, baby.” He left a kiss to the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the couch.
He placed both of your cups on the coffee table before lying down and dragging you into his chest, yet another yelp leaving your lips.
Your chin rested on his chest as you looked at him with questioning eyes.
“What?” He laughed. “I told you I missed you,”
You only smiled, leaning up slightly to bring your lips together. His hand immediately shot up to cup your jaw, the man also leaning up to deepen it. You’d never get tired of the way his lips chased yours, and how passionately he kissed you every time.
You pulled back for air, but not before leaving a couple small pecks to his lips.
“I love you.” He whispered.
“I love you, Matt.” You whispered back, leaving one last kiss to his lips before digging your head into the crook of his neck— the hot chocolate being long forgotten.
But in all honesty, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were perfectly fine just as you were, wrapped up in your lover’s arms during a snowstorm.
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babygirlmurdock · 2 months
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Confessions
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption
a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔
You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.
Matt.
You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”
“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.
You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.
“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.
“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.
Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.
“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.
“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.
You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.
“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.
You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.
“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.
“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.
Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.
“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.
“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.
“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”
Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”
“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.
You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.
You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.
Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.
“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.
“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”
“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.
“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.
“I’m in love with you.”
Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.
“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.
“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.
Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”
“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.
“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.
You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.
“Please say something,” Matt begged you.
“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”
You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.
“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“
“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.
“If you’d let me finish—“
“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.
“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.
“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.
“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.
Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”
“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.
“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”
“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.
“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ
tags: @yarrystyleeza
I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀
All credit to the original gif owner!
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devils-dares · 1 year
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Steal My Warmth
summary: matt lets you use him as a pillow.
pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader
warnings: none! fluffy fluff here
wordcount: 379
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The way Matt loved you was devastating. He ached when you weren’t near, and when you were he found his fingers were always reaching for you to come a little closer. His hands always found themselves wrapped around your midsection, the extra skin letting him steal an abundance of warmth and softness from you.
When you’d asked him if you could slip under the blanket with him on the couch, he told you you didn’t have to ask as he peeled away the thick fluffy cover.
“C’mere.” You try to slot yourself between him and the couch but he pulls you to lay on him directly, your head sinking into his chest as he tucks you in.
“Cozy?” You nodded, feeling his fingers caress your skin, his touch sliding lower and lower after starting at your waist.
“Watch the hands.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He clicks resume on his podcast as you get comfy on his chest and scroll through your phone. Quiet domesticity takes over the apartment, your even breath mirrors his as the two of you soak in each other's presence.
“It should be a crime to be this soft and warm with that much muscle.” You say, poking his abs. He chuckles, pulling your body closer to his.
“Feel free to come steal some warmth more often.” You nuzzle further and he gasps at the feeling of your cold nose pressing against his bare chest. Your eyelids grow heavy and you glance up to Matt, who was listening to his podcast. He looked at peace, his fingers still moving, albeit slowly, across your skin while your head moved up and down gently from his breaths. You smile, your eyes shutting more and more as you finally succumb to sleep with comfort personified who is Matt Murdock.
His attention is drawn to you only when your phone lands face down on his skin, the glass screen chilling his body. He brings his hand up to thread through your hair, dull nails gently scratching at your scalp. With his other hand he pauses his podcast and drops his headphones to the ground quietly. He moves your phone away and pulls the blanket up a bit higher to cover your body.
“Sweet dreams, my love.”
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bellaxgiornata · 3 months
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The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k
Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty
Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?
a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!
Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer
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Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch. 
It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin. 
The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day. 
No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.
You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight. 
But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late. 
Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today. 
Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment. 
A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape. 
Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?
So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?
Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.
But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media. 
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.
Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall. 
Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.
Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.
An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice. 
“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”
He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.
Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway. 
With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.
Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here? 
But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.
“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”
The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.
The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?
“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”
Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.
“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”
“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”
Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”
He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”
Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.
“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”
Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”
You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.
A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.
Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”
You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.
“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”
“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.
The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”
Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.
“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.” 
You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.
“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.
His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did. 
“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”
You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing. 
“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title  all by yourself.” 
That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off. 
“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”
His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.
“Sorry,” he whispered. 
“No it's–it's fine,” you replied. 
He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him. 
Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously. 
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand. 
You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.
“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.
“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”
His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked. 
“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”
The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”
Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”
“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”
“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”
Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again. 
“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”
A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out. 
“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded. 
The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing. 
“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice. 
“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.
“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”
You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”
The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.
“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”
A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him. 
“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.
“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”
“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”
“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”
You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down. 
But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing. 
“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.
Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow. 
Strange.
“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.
A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again. 
“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”
You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?” 
“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”
Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back. 
“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–
“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.” 
A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.
Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too? 
Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.
“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”
“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”
He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.
“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.
“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.
Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.
“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”
“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.
“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”
Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.
“You’re cold.”
For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.
“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”
“You say that like I was out there naked.”
His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches. 
You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again. 
“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”
“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.
With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?
And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.
Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.
“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”
“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.
Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.
“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”
The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.
“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.” 
You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.
“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”
“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.
Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.
“Alright, point taken,” he replied. 
Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.
“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”
“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”
He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.
“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”
Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know? 
“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”
“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”
You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he assured you.
It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap. 
“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”
“You’re freezing,” he countered. 
“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.
“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.
You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.
���You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”
Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”
He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.
“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”
The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.
“Share?” you asked.
“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”
“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”
His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut. 
“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”
“No!” you exclaimed.
Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.
“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”
Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.
“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”
An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.
“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.
“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”
Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”
“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”
He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.
“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned. 
“I'm not tense!” you lied.
He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment. 
“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”
Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh. 
“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”
“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.
“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”
Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course. 
With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance. 
“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.
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Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?
But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.
Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?
Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.
“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”
But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit. 
But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.
Stupid stupid stupid.
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amberlynnmurdock · 3 months
Text
Neighbor Pt. 6
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: On a random midnight, she comes to Matt's apartment to feel less lonely. Matt lets her in.
Words: just under 3k!
Genres: FLUFF with a dash of angst because of course... they are just two lost souls confiding in the other <3
A/N: I sort of had trouble with this chapter but she's finally here lol. This picks up from Pt. 5... hope you like it!!!
Part 5
Matt felt rejuvenated the next morning. 
Maybe it wasn’t stress he had been feeling the past few weeks… maybe it was something else, something he hadn’t felt in a while. Something that made him need sweet relief that throwing punches and taking hits couldn’t provide. He needed something more sensual—intimate. Something else to get his anxiety and frustration out. Even if it was a brush of contact. Something as simple as a touch. 
Yeah, it had been a while since he’d felt that. And it felt so good to listen to her like that… despite how wrong it was. That was until she said his name out loud. Matt pondered the question all morning as he lay in bed waiting for his alarm to go off. What did it mean? Did she like him like that? What should he do next?
  Nothing, he decided. It was wrong he knew she felt that way about him… it was wrong he continued to listen to her. It was wrong of him to think he could ever make her happy when he leads the life he leads. But God, did it feel so good to think that for a moment—just a moment—it might be possible. 
He rolls out of bed as soon as he hears his automated alarm go off. Wake up, wake up! Matt slams the alarm with his fist, harder than he intended to. He sits for a moment on the edge of his bed, feeling achy all over. Other people in the apartment are waking up right now, too. Downstairs, someone turns their stove on and begins to cook bacon. Another apartment opens its windows to the cool winter air. And her—she’s awake now, too. She turned her TV on to the news.
“Daredevil took down an armed robbery and saved an old woman at the corner bodega…“ 
Matt tunes it out immediately. 
It was strange to hear news about himself playing in her apartment. It made him uncomfortable. There he was, imagining a future with her and playing with the idea of being intimate with her, all the while having one of the biggest secrets ever. 
After a hot shower and brewing coffee, Matt was just about to be on his way out. He heard her shuffling behind her door, slipping her boots on, and zipping up her coat. They always walked out at the same time, an unspoken ritual. Maybe it was safer to keep it like this, Matt thought. Maybe this was as far as they’d ever go. 
Matt took a deep breath as he stepped out, unsurprisingly at the same time as she did. Matt heard her heart rate quicken as she saw him. 
“G’morning, Matt,” she said softly, as casually as she could.
“Morning,” he smiled. Act natural. “Sleep well?” 
She paused, ever so slightly, and locked her door. “I did, better than I normally do. You?”
“Same,” Matt answered, picking up on her hesitation. Maybe he should leave the conversation at this, not push anything further. From the way she was speaking quietly to her slight quiver, Matt knew she was nervous. He didn’t want to make her feel that way. 
“I hope you have a good day, Matt,” she smiled, walking ahead of him down the stairs. Before Matt could give a response, she was already out the door. Matt slowly followed behind, somehow feeling guilty about it all over again. 
She weighed heavy on his mind all day—did he do something wrong unknowingly? All of this was confusing—he heard her say his name at her most intimate, and this morning she seemed to want to avoid him altogether. What happened?
Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong. 
***
Matt walked up the steps to his apartment slowly, one hand using his cane to guide himself, the other holding onto the rail. He passed the floors of the other apartments. They were all so loud to him. Fran had the TV on a bit higher than usual. Someone’s dog was barking begging to be fed. Another was on the phone having a heated conversation with an in-law. All day, Matt was consumed by conversations he wished not to be part of. Sounds he wished he could drown out and turn off.
Finally, he reached the floor of his apartment—and hers. He liked that he shared this floor with only her. He paused at the top of the steps and pressed his fingertips against the wall. She was inside, home already from work. From the sound of her soft breathing and very still movement, Matt knew she was sleeping. A part of him melted inside. Tired from a long day of work himself, he walked as quietly as he could to his apartment and opened the door slowly to avoid making any sound.
He wasted no time changing into his Daredevil gear and waiting on his roof.
***
Matt felt accomplished when he arrived back on his rooftop after a night out as Daredevil. He stopped another robbery and saved an old couple’s bodega. He saved an old man from being mugged. He saved a young girl and her mother from an abusive ex-boyfriend. 
Entering his apartment, he stripped himself of his Daredevil gear and locked it away in his old trunk. He paused, hand still on the locked trunk that held his most detrimental secret. This trunk used to belong to his father. He pushed it inside the closet and closed the door. He made a sign of the cross and stalked off to the bathroom. 
It was shortly past midnight. After washing off in the shower, Matt changed into sweatpants. He lay in bed and shut his eyes. His thoughts always drifted to the same thing: was there more to this life, than just keeping a secret? 
After reciting a prayer and just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a gentle knocking on his door. His eyes shot open and his senses were fully engaged in the source of the sound. More knocks came. It was her. She shivered under her cardigan and shifted in her slippers from foot to foot, anxiously. Was something wrong? Why was she at his door so late?
Matt threw on a shirt quickly and walked over to open his door. Just as she was about to turn around and retreat to her apartment, thinking this is stupid, Matt opened his door. She stood there with her arms tucked around her frame and shivered from the cold in the hallway.
“Hi,” she said in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, Matt. I know it’s late. But I heard your shower go off and assumed you were awake and—God, I realize how creepy that sounds that I heard your water running so I knew you were awake—never mind. I’ve spoken too much,” she rambled nervously, shivering from the cold in the hallway. Matt was surprised by her presence; he wasn’t upset at all. He welcomed her sudden appearance but couldn’t help but wonder why she was there. 
Not to mention her apologizing for hearing his water running, and assuming he was awake. After all the things he’s heard her do through her apartment… Matt was in no place to judge (not that he would, anyway).
“It's okay,” Matt whispered her name. “I was awake. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, and Matt didn’t have to listen to her heartbeat to know she was lying. It was in her voice, her mannerisms. The way she answered quickly without really considering his question. “I just—“ and she was shivering so much.
“You can come in,” Matt opened the door wider. “It’s cold in the hall.” 
“Okay,” she stepped inside his apartment and away from him as he shut his large, old door. Matt locked it and turned around to smile at her. It was then Matt realized he forgot to put his glasses on. 
“I’m sorry, let me get my glasses on,” Matt said sheepishly, reaching for them on the side table. 
“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to put them on.” She paused, looking at his handsome face in the low glow of his apartment. He wasn’t hard to look at at all—from his warm hazel eyes to his plump lips. 
“Are you sure you won’t be uncomfortable?” He asked. 
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m barging in on your place—you don’t have to sacrifice your comfort for mine.” 
He smiled at that and then offered her to take a seat on his couch. He allowed her a moment to get a sense of her surroundings—she’d never been in his apartment before. Her heartbeat was steady. She looked around his living room and squinted at the windows when the large screen across the street flashed bright purple and pink lights. 
“Wow,” she said, looking back at his dark apartment. “Those are bright.”
“So I’ve heard,” Matt said lightly with a warm smile. “Do you want any water?”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
She curled up on the corner of his brown leather couch, tucking her feet in underneath her legs. She was still shivering. Matt offered her the blanket that lay on it and she took it gracefully. 
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said sheepishly wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, “truthfully, I couldn’t sleep and I could use a friend to talk to.”
A friend? Matt’s heart jumped at this. She considered him a friend. 
“I’m glad you came,” Matt replied. 
“On Christmas, you told me that any time I felt lonely, I could come by. So… this is one of those times.”
“Yeah,” Matt nodded. “Felt lonely tonight?”
“Not anymore,” she sighed, pleasantly, like his presence alone was enough to cure whatever it was she was feeling. “I took a long nap after work to avoid it and woke up feeling worse than I did before. Like a harrowing, deep hole in my chest.” 
Matt knew that feeling all too well—a hole he’d been trying to fill since he was 11. It occurred to him in that moment Matt hardly knew anything about her. Where she came from, what her story was. She knew bits and pieces of him but he didn’t know anything more than that she lived alone and worked at a bookstore. 
“I understand,” Matt said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe another time,” she said, pushing the matter away. “I just wanted to get my mind off it.”
Matt was happy she was comfortable enough to come to him this late at night for nothing more than just another person to talk to. He could be that person for her—he wanted to be that person for her. 
“I didn’t know you had hazel eyes,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t hide them as much as you do behind those red glasses.” 
Matt blushed—unfamiliar with this feeling in his chest, like a bubbling warmth spread over that harrowing hole she was talking about just moments ago. “Oh,” he said. “People can get uncomfortable when they see my eyes.”
“Then screw them,” she said defiantly. “Like I said…you shouldn’t sacrifice your comfort for theirs.” 
“Thank you,” Matt replied. “For understanding that part.” 
“Were you—“
“Born blind?” Matt had finished this question so many times, that it became a habit to interject whenever anyone began to ask it. “No. It was an accident when I was a kid.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind,” Matt shrugged. He wanted to open up to her, as much as he could—without revealing his biggest secret of all. “I saw an old man crossing the street. A large truck with chemical containers was coming down the block at the same time. I pushed the old man out of the way. The truck lost control, and swerved to avoid hitting us. Well, it did bump me a little, and all the chemicals fell over, leaking everywhere. Some of it got in my eyes and—“
“That was it,” she finished his sentence. “Wow.” 
“That was it,” Matt repeated. His gaze fell on the carpet. He sat at the opposite end of the couch. 
“So, little Matt was a hero?” He could hear the smile in her voice when she said this. Matt chuckled. 
“I did what anyone else would have.”
“How many adults were there, do you remember?”
“It was on a random corner in Hell’s Kitchen. Plenty of people were walking around.”
“So, you did what anyone else would have avoided.”
Matt blushed, looked away from the general direction he was looking in. It felt different to be called a hero when it was coming from her lips. 
“Sure,” he finally said. “We can go with that.”
“Do you…” her voice trailed off, unsure how to phrase her next question without sounding offensive. 
“You can ask me anything,” Matt assured her. “You know a lot about me that some of my closest friends don’t know. Nothing’s off the table.”
“Do you miss having sight? That’s probably a silly question. Do you remember the last thing you saw?”
“The sky,” Matt answered, a flash of blue appearing in his mind. “That was the last thing I saw. And I do miss having sight,” Matt took a deep breath. “But there are other ways to see.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “How do you see in other ways?”
What a loaded question, he thought. 
“Touch, for one. I can get a sense of something when I touch it. Smell—easy to distinguish what’s on my plate. I still know what a majority of things look like.”
“But not people,” she stated. 
“Not people,” Matt affirmed. “But there’s a way for me to paint a picture in my mind.”
“How? A person describes what they look like?”
“Descriptions help,” Matt answered, “but touching their face helps a hell of a lot more.” 
She was silent for a moment, understanding his answers and pondering them. She wondered what he would think of her if he could see. Matt felt as if she was wondering that very thought.
“Do you want to touch my face?” She asked in a hesitant voice. “Or I can describe to you what I look like.”
Matt felt his heart grow in his chest. How could he answer that question, without revealing his true feelings for her right then and there? It had been months of being her neighbor that he hoped and prayed he could cross that threshold with her. Hell, it was a miracle she was in his apartment at that moment. 
“Only if you’re comfortable,” Matt finally said, shifting in his seat. 
“I am,” she whispered, leaning forward. “Come here.”
Matt moved closer to her on his couch until his left knee was touching her right. When he sat close enough to her, she grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to guide him. 
Starting with her hair, she gently brushed his fingers through it. It was soft. Every thread of her hair felt like water slipping gently through his fingers. Matt held his breath as his fingers grazed her neck. He had to close his eyes for this part. Matt gently placed his hand on the side of her neck, feeling how soft her skin felt on his fingertips. Like Braille, he ran his fingers ever so lightly on her skin, goosebumps following his touch. 
He moved his hand to the side of her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. He gently ran his thumb over her brow bone, smoothing it out. Then he traced his thumb under her eye in a sweeping motion. His gaze fell on her chin. He traced the pad of his thumb down the bridge of her nose, stopping at her cupid’s bow. She gently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Matt gently let out a breath too. He took his other hand and cupped the other side of her face in his palm, feeling her cheeks heat against him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a steady boom boom, boom boom, he had come to memorize to help him fall asleep. He caressed her chin with his thumb and traced her jawline before slowly running his hand down the length of her neck, retreating to his thigh. 
“Beautiful,” Matt whispered. It was all he could say. 
“Matt…” she uttered his name, trailing off, losing her words. Her heart felt like a cement block in her chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to touch her again. She reached for his hand and placed it on her face, desperate to feel how gently he held her again, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 
She turns her head into his hand and kisses his palm. Matt moves his fingers to the back of her head and guides her lips to his, a kiss that should’ve happened a long time ago. Her lips molded to his, the taste of her bringing him back to life, filling that empty hole in his chest again. He hoped it had the same effect on her. Her hand moved to hold his face, a plan to not break the kiss. A plan that didn’t matter if it worked or not, because Matt wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t going to let go of her. 
When she eventually did pull back, he only wanted more. 
“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, “for letting me in.” 
Letting her into his apartment, or letting her into his heart—both answers were suitable. 
Eventually, she did go back to her apartment, for reasons they didn’t need to say out loud. But it would be a while until they brought up this night again. 
______________________________________________________________
TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy @marvelcinematiquniverse @sweetbee0108
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farfromstrange · 1 year
Text
Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader
Masterlist
Inspired by this song.
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread
A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.
Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)
@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore
[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]
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In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.
For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.
Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.
He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.
It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.
You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.
The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 
Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.
He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.
There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.
Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.
But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.
When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.
Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.
Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.
He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.
We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.
You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.
“You okay?” you ask.
He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.
“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”
You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.
“Bad day at work?”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”
“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.
“No,” he says.
His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 
“Do you want me to run you a bath?”
He sighs. “No.”
“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”
His tone is harsher this time, “No!”
You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.
“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”
And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 
Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 
“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.
He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.
“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”
“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”
“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 
If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.
He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”
“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”
He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get?”
“Everything.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”
What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.
Oh.
Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”
“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.
You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 
“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”
“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 
His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 
He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 
He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.
And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 
“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.
He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.
“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.
You sniffle, not answering.
You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 
He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.
“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”
It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.
He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”
You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.
He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.
“Why are you crying?” he asks again.
You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“Hey.”
“No, I gotta-”
“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.
But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 
“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”
Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 
“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 
Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.
“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”
“But the mess,” you say. 
“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”
“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”
“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”
You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”
You cling tighter to him. 
He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 
Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 
His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”
“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“
“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”
You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”
You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.
He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 
But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.
You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”
Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”
“It makes me weak,” you say.
“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”
“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”
“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”
“I know, but-“
“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”
“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”
“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”
You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”
His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 
You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.
He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”
You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 
He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.
So you promise him, “Okay.”
“Can you forgive me for yelling?”
Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 
“Thank you.”
Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”
“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”
“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”
“But I-”
“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”
The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”
It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 
The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months
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the brie
buttercup, chapter two
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a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.
summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”
warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)
word count: 4978
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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough. 
To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries. 
“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”
“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”
“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”
“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top. 
“Here you go.”
Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”
Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.  
“Heya, neighbour!” 
“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”
“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”
“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed 
your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”
“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”
“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”
“I did not–”
“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”
“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”
“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin. 
“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”
“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter. 
“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.
Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”
“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.” 
Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”
“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs. 
“Will that be all?”
“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”
“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”
“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”
“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”
“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”
“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”
“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”
A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”
“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”
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“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”
Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”
“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”
Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.
You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane. 
For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy. 
“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”
“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”
As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. 
“You okay?”
“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily. 
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling. 
“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly. 
“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”
“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”
“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others. 
“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”
“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”
Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”
“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”
To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.
“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over. 
“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”
“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”
Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”
“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”
“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”
“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”
Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you. 
“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”
“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”
As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all. 
“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”
“It’s not.”
“What?” your eyes found him.
“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”
“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up. 
“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”
When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.
Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet. 
“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk. 
“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”
Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane. 
Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”
“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.
“Yeah…”
“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.” 
His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so. 
You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet. 
“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”
“I don’t think I have any cheese.”
“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”
Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”
As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”
“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”
Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”
Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard. 
Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him. 
“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”
“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack. 
“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…” 
Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses. 
When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”
Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”
“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea. 
“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”
“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”
Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”
Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”
“Yeah?”
“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears. 
“Mhm?”
“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”
“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters. 
“I didn’t mean to just–”
“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog. 
“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”
As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely. 
“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed. 
“W-what?”
Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”
Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste. 
Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation. 
But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”
“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?” 
“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”
Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.
Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”
“Yeah?” he answered carefully. 
“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.  
“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”
“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”
Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”
“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”
“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”
“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…” 
“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”
“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.” 
Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks. 
For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask. 
“Did you ever go to the police?”
“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”
“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”
“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 3 months
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false god - m. murdock
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a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"
When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.
Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.
Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.
But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.
So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.
The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.
You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.
You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.
Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.
In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.
Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?
So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.
Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.
So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:
You missed Matt.
You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.
Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.
On the second ring, he answered.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”
“Hi. Everything’s great.”
A pause.
“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”
“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”
You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.
“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.
“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.
“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?”  He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”
You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.
“Matt, You’re blind.”
“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”
“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.
A pause.
“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.
He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.
“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.
“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.
“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”
His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.
“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”
You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.
“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.
“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.
“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”
What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.
“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”
“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.
“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.
The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.
As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.
Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.
His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.
Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.
“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.
“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.
“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”
Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.
“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.
“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”
“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.
“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.
This god damn wedding.
“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.
“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.
“Thank you, very much.” You hum.
Matt stops his assault again.
“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.
“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.
“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.
“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.
“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.
“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.
“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.
“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.
Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.
“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.
“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.
He laughs, kissing your thigh.
“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”
“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.
“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”
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