#daredevil angst
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DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK
Pairing: matt x wife!reader
Word Count: 2, 156
Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.
//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own//
The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.
You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.
You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.
You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.
Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.
“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”
“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.
“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”
“What does he do again?”
“Lawyer. Why?”
“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.
You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.
“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”
“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”
“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”
“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.
“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”
“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.
“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”
“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”
“What?”
“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”
“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.”
“You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”
“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”
A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.
“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.
The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.
Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.
You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.
“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”
“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”
“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.
“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”
“But he’s blind!”
“So it seems.”
“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.
You simply shrugged and raised your brows.
“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”
“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.
“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”
“But-”
“No.”
“Mrs. M, just-”
“Liv, boundaries, please.”
“Just listen!”
“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”
She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.
“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”
“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”
“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.
Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.
“Could’ve called.” You said simply.
“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.
“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I couldn’t focus.”
You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.
“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.
“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”
“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”
He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.
“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”
“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”
“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”
You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.
“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”
“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.
“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”
“Lucky me.”
“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.
“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”
“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”
“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.
“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”
“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.
“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”
“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”
You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.
“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.
“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”
“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.
“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”
“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair.
“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.
“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.
“How did you guys meet?!”
“What’s her favorite color?!”
“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”
“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.
“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”
#matt fluff#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fic#marvel matt murdock#matt murdock mcu#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x yn#matt murdock x wife#husband matt murdock#daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil angst#daredevil imagine#mcu daredevil#netflix daredevil#daredevil fic#daredevil fanfic#daredevil fluff#marvel daredevil
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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader
Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock
Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.
Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut
Word Count: 1.7k
A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.
He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.
You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.
Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.
In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.
Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.
But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.
He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.
The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?
You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.
Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.
You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.
His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.
So much has changed, and all it took was one day.
One day.
Three hundred days, all wasted in one.
If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.
When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.
You thought he was the one.
And then it just… ended.
You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.
You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.
That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.
You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.
He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.
You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.
He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.
Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.
There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.
When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.
He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.
To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.
“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”
“It was just a kiss,” he argued.
“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”
“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.
The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.
But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.
You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No. Fuck you, Matt!”
You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.
“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.
You should have never let him fool you.
At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.
“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.
You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.
“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”
Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.
“We’re done.”
Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.
But God, you were so in love.
Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.
Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.
Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.
You killed each other.
Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.
He was your first true love.
Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.
He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.
But when exactly did you go wrong?
Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?
“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.
Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.
“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.
“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”
“What if I am?”
“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”
You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.
He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say.
Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.
It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.
You need to forget Matt Murdock.
And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.
Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617
(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)
#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#daredevil x reader#daredevil angst#angst#no happy ending#songfic#is it over now by taylor swift#elektra natchios#frank castle#frank castle x reader#x gender neutral reader#elektra natchios x matt murdock#cheating trope#lizzi writes#charlie cox#matt murdock imagines
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matilda - m. murdock
a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3
warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues !
word count: 1.2k
summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help.
pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader
now playing: matilda - harry styles
"i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"
Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.
You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.
And yet, you feel like a child.
And your back is fucking killing you.
Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.
“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).
You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.
“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.
“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”
You blink.
“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.
“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.
“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.
And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.
And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.
That’s when you start to cry.
It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.
He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.
You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.
“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.
“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.
“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.
“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.
He knows you too well.
“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.
“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,
“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.
Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”
And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.
You’re safe.
You’re loved.
These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil#daredevil fic#matt murdock#daredevil fanfiction#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#daddy issues#angst#back pain#matt murdock x gn!reader#matt murdock x sad reader#daredevil angst#daredevil blurb#matt murdock blurb#matt murdock blurbs
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Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock
Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.
Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)
God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘
Words: 7,691
AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)
Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤
As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament.
It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes.
You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt.
Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together.
Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there.
Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name.
Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin.
Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip.
"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear.
"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement.
Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did.
You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know.
But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.
Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there.
But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.
For now.
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"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you.
At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath.
You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.
You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil.
"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe."
"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back."
You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?"
Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?"
That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body.
Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.
Nothing except Matt's duty to the city.
Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.
But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.
You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."
That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to."
"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew."
The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?"
You whimpered again.
"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?"
"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—"
"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?"
Fuck, not the praise.
Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please."
His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.
By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night.
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You tried.
Oh God, you truly tried.
You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen.
You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt.
You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately.
Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down.
At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down.
And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that?
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In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you.
You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence.
But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts.
Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air.
"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear.
You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently.
He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there.
"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar.
You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back.
"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke.
"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time.
Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did.
Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?"
You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk.
His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.
Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."
When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.
"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"
"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.
"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.
"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"
"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.
"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."
A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.
"I don't know," you breathed.
Your heart skipped. Lie.
Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."
"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"
"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."
"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."
"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"
"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"
He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.
"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"
Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.
"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"
A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.
"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.
"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.
You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"
"Yes."
"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."
"I didn't—"
"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."
"Y-you want me to pray."
"Yes."
"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."
A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."
You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.
Oh, how wrong you were.
"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"
"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.
Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"
For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."
What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.
"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.
You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"
You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.
Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.
"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"
He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.
But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."
Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.
"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."
"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"
Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"
You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."
"Good. Then continue."
You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?
"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"
Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.
"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.
Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.
"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."
A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.
You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."
And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.
That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.
Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.
His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.
But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"
"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."
A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."
Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."
"I—I don't—"
Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"
This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.
"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."
Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?
"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"
God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.
You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.
This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."
You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.
"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.
"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."
Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.
"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."
In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.
"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.
Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.
"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.
"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?
Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.
Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.
You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"
And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.
The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.
Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.
In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.
You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.
"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."
He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.
"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."
Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.
"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."
Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.
Did he just put you on the fucking altar?
You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.
"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.
"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."
"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."
You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."
Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.
Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.
"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."
"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."
He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"
You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."
His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.
Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.
But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.
Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.
"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."
You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.
Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.
Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.
"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.
"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."
That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.
You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.
Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"
You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."
"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"
"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."
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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)
If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤
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#matt murdock#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fluff#daredevil#daredevil fanfic#daredevil smut#daredevil fluff#daredevil angst#marvel daredevil#matt murdock my beloved#matt murdock is the best#human disaster matt murdock#matthew murdock#i love matt murdock#daredevil show#daredevil fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfic#mcu fanfiction#mcu daredevil#netflix daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil netflix
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dear god i need him now please
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#matt murdock#matt murdock smut#daredevil#jessica jones x reader#daredevil x reader#marvel daredevil#daredevil angst#Charlie Cox#charlie cox smut#charlie cox#charlie cox x reader
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my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 1/5
Author’s Note: Hi! This is technically a combination of two ideas--one that I've had for a bit written in my idea notebook, and another I got about a week ago (mildly induced by me watching Gossip Girl for the first time despite knowing all of the major plot points). I don't usually do angst, but boy is it here in this series. Enjoy, and I apologize in advance if I make anyone sad.
Summary: You and Matt Murdock come from different worlds: Matt, the son of a prize boxer from Hell’s Kitchen, you the daughter of a clothing designer and doctor on Park Ave. Meeting in law school was just chance, just was much as you falling for your friend. But fate had different paths for the two of you that pulled you apart, and you felt pain with each tear. Now, just over ten years later, you two meet again by chance, and everything and nothing has changed.
Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, lingering love and fondness, canon-typical arguments, language, mentions of death (reader is a widow)
Other Characters: Elektra Natchios
Word Count: 1,807
To say that Matt was annoyed with Elektra was an understatement. Pulling him away from a date was one thing, but pulling him away from a date to go to a ritzy gala? He was pissed. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if he liked that kind of stuff, but he absolutely hates large crowds, people pretending to be things they’re not to look better than others. It’s just a place for the upper crust to brag. One of these things was the reason that he met Elektra in the first place; while their relationship had its moments in college, that is a moment he repeatedly visits in his mind with regret. There was absolutely no reason for Foggy and him to be there at that event—they were just two stupid college kids crashing a party, and it changed the course of his life.
Even though Elektra made sure to get him a soft tux, it still felt like it was suffocating him. It was too much, and it was only adding to his discomfort and annoyance. He knows there’s a mission to focus on, but he can’t keep his mind on track. Matt half-listens to the plan Elektra is talking at him about as they stand with champagne flutes in hand, and just as she slips away into the crowd, he hones in on something that has to be a mistake. He puts down his untouched drink on a tray, slowly tapping over toward what has to be an anger-endured hallucination. But as he gets closer had he picks up a familiar scent, he knows he’s not imagining anything. Oh God, he’d never forget that smell. How could he the it’s attached to every memory he has of you?
“Angel,” he breathes.
He can tell that it catches you off guard by how your posture changes, how your heart skips, and how your breathing increases. You turn slowly and Matt can sense how your eyes widen softly in surprise and something more. Matt listens to your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s as you try to keep calm and dull your buzzing senses.
“Matty,” you breathes, color rushing to your cheeks. His name sounds like honey dripping from your lips. He’s missed that sound. He’s missed you. So, so much. You clear your throat to regain your composure. “What a surprise. It’s lovely to see you here.”
“(Y/N/N),” he murmurs. Matt is simply shocked by meeting you here after ten years—he doesn’t believe his senses that it’s actually you. But it is.
“Please,” you whisper, mildly embarrassed and suddenly very conscious of yourself as you dip your head and smooth your gown. “No one has called me that in years. (Y/N) is fine.” You sound as if you’re going to cry from nerves—definitely not how you had been just a minute earlier speaking with someone in the crowd. It might slip past someone else, but not Matt. He knows you, no matter how long you’ve been apart.
Matt’s face shifts from surprise to something he can tell you can’t quite put your finger on. “You . . . How have you been? I mean, I’d assume well judging by the scale of tonight and your role in it all.”
“‘Well’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”
His brows furrow. “C’mon, (Y/N/N). Everyone that’s here is because of you and the work you’ve done. This . . . This is more than you could’ve ever dreamed of when we were at Columbia. You’re doing more than Foggy and I could hope to achieve in our entire career.”
“‘Well’ isn’t happy.”
“You’re not happy?”
You give him a sad smile. “I fit into the mold of the perfect Upper East Side darling: went to private schools, society debut, got my degree, worked to established a successful career, got married. Unlike my fellow wives of the Upper East Side, though, my marriage ended in death instead of divorce. Besides, this isn’t anywhere near the work I hoped I’d be doing. ‘Well’ is just a mask I have the burden of putting on everyday.”
Matt’s eyebrows pull down, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not happy,” he breathes softly, pain and sadness painted all over his face.
“I’m not,” you admit, holding back tears to save face. “I haven’t been in years. We talked about it at Columbia—this life wasn’t what I wanted. I was naive to think I could have anything different. But at some point . . . My happiness stopped mattering. It wasn’t important. I just needed to become the woman I was expected to be, and I did.”
“Angel.” He moistens his lips. “Your happiness does matter. When you’re happy . . . (Y/N/N), it lights up the people around you. It’s infectious, it’s like sunshine, it’s . . . It’s why I fell in love with you in law school.”
That sentence is a knife to the heart, and the slight shift in your stance tells Matt that he knows what he just did was not the best move.
“It’s a shame it wasn’t enough to keep us together, then.”
Your words kill him, but no matter how they hurt, he knows they’re true. “(Y/N/N)—.”
“Do you know when I first fell in love with you, Matt?” He just looks at you as he holds on to his cane. Nervous. Fragile, even. “Two weeks in, fall semester, first year of Columbia. We were studying in the library, and it was late. You could tell I was losing steam and giving up, and you took my mind off things and cheered me up by balancing a ruler on that huge, beautiful nose of yours like a goddamn otter. The way you smiled when I laughed . . . That man who had a passion for the law, wanted to help those that needed it most, fiercely loyal, he’s who I fell in love with. He’s who I thought would stand beside me through anything. He just never felt the same, no matter much I wished he did.” That salt Matt tastes in the air tells him that you desperately want to cry right there in the middle of the party no matter who is around, but you catch the eye of someone else in the room—a silent savior in the conversation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go mingle with guests. It was lovely to see you tonight, Matthew.”
“(Y/N/N), wait, please—.”
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
Matt’s frozen as he listens to you walk away, interacting with the people at the party as if your conversation never happened. He feels a hand rest on his shoulder before it slowly runs down his arm and hooks in the crook of his elbow.
“We need to go,” Elektra whispers. “Now.”
Gently tugging him along, Matt feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He doesn’t want to leave, not with you here, not when every fiber in his being is telling him to stay and catch up, talk, try and fix what was lost—what he broke—during your last year at Columbia. Unfortunately, his shock and awe at seeing you again is perfect for Elektra to use to drag him out of the building and into the car waiting for them, giving the driver a new address.
“Well, I was only able to recover part of the files, thanks to someone getting distracted. But, I read some notes on a desk calendar, and the portion of the files that we really need are—.”
“Did you know this was (Y/N)’s company’s party? Did—.” His blood runs cold at the thought that crosses his mind. “Does she know what she’s involved in?”
“She’s not involved at all. One of the charities that her company supports is involved—someone higher than her has their signature all over the paperwork. She is in the dark.”
“Then we need to protect her. We—.”
“The best way to protect her is to take down the Hand. She’s fine, Matthew.”
“No, she’s not. (Y/N/N) . . . Tonight, she was like a ghost of the woman I knew in law school,” Matt tells Elektra.
“She’s fine.”
“She’s not.”
“She made choices and is living with them. She’s fine.”
He feels shell shocked. Everything is telling him that that couldn’t have been you, even though all signs point to yes. “Those weren’t her choices. I could’ve been there for her—I should’ve been there for her to tell her that what she wanted was important and mattered more than what her parents thought. I . . .” He hangs his head in shame. “I let myself get distracted by something that didn’t matter.”
“Matthew—.”
“Her life could’ve been so different if I stayed with her. My life could’ve been different.”
“It would have been a life you hate. When you have someone like that . . . it doesn’t matter what you do. Their status will take precedence. Any life different than that that tries to mesh with it . . . It would go up in flames, no matter how hard one tries.”
“I could’ve made her happy, Elektra. I could have at least made sure that she was okay all these years, something. But I abandoned her. And I never told her why.”
“It’s not like she didn’t land on her feet. Besides, it never would have worked between you two.”
There’s something different in her voice that Matt can’t quite put his finger on, but it fills him with rage.
“You don’t know her like I do—did. We would have made it work, we could have done it. Status be damned, she—.”
“Your big heart is blinding you more than you already are. You don’t get it. It’s not just her social standing. You’re too different personality wise. Do you really think she could handle what you do in your spare time? Don’t you think that would shatter her, tear you two apart?”
“She’s part of the reason I started doing this!” Matt snaps. “She . . . Having any kind of relationship doing what I do is difficult. It wouldn’t matter if she was completely in the dark or out with me every night. (Y/N) would stay. It would work with us. I know it. She wouldn’t give up on me.”
He senses Elektra’s 180 shift in her demeanor. “Fine. You can have your movie moment with her, but you finish this with me first.“ She shifts in her seat. “I’m telling you it won’t last. You say I don’t know her, but I do, Matthew. And she will leave you broken because she never will be able to accept all of you.”
“You know, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it wouldn’t last. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never tried to repair that bridge.”
“Your heart will always be your Kryptonite, Matthew. Mark my words.”
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Afterglow (Matt Murdock x Reader)
Masterlist // Join My Taglist
a/n: another taylor swift song fic lmfao i just cannot help myself, this one is so angsty i almost felt bad for Matt just writing it (someone pls give that man a hug, he NEEDS one) also i feel so bad about not posting that i didnt even send this one to my beta reader i just posted it and hoped for the best lmfao
Summary: Matt and Reader have an argument that feels like it might be relationship-ending after Matt's hectic lifestyle as Daredevil catches up with him.
warnings: ANGST BRO SO MUCH ANGST, matty really just deserves the world, angry matt at the beginning, soft matt and foggy convo, matt doesn't know how to accept love, super soft matt at the end, some religious imagery i guess, happy ending
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I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue
Put you in jail for something you didn’t do
I pinned your hands behind your back, oh
Thought I had reason to attack, but no
Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves
Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there’s no us
Why'd I have to break what I love so much?
It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say
The door slammed behind Matt in a fitful rage, and he was so pissed off, so intense in his anger that he wanted to turn around and slam it again, just to lash out a second time. It was so unlike him to be this way, so unlike him to allow the festering wound that was his soul show itself so plainly, but it had been a long night, long year, long life and he was fucking tired.
And you. You. You. You. You’d been caught in the crossfire.
“Fuck.” Matt breathed, already regretting the argument that he’d started simply because he hadn’t been able to reel the Devil back in after a long night. The tight leash he held on the part of him that he hated, the part of him that you’d never seen because he’d hidden it so deep inside himself every night, was a ghost in his hands. The line between Matthew the person and Daredevil the vigilante had been blurring for months, but tonight was the first time he’d let it slip through the careful facade he’d been constructing around himself. He was a shattered window, ready to break at the slightest bit of pressure.
The cold sliced into Matt’s skin as he stepped through the doorway at the front of his building, a sobering chill of wind that triggered the memory of your eyes welling with tears. He’d been relentless in his anger, and what for? Because he had a bad night? Because he couldn’t save everyone, and somehow that was your fault?
Asshole is the word you’re looking for, Matthew.
Matt groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Foggy’s number before he could talk himself out of it.
“It’s three in the morning, Matt.” Foggy said by way of greeting, voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re not somewhere dying are you?”
“Only metaphorically.” Matt replied, shuffling his feet. He lowered himself to sit on the stairs beneath him, huffing as his body settled against the concrete. The metal of the railing dug into his temple as he rested his head against it, an uncomfortable reminder that the only person to blame for this was himself.
“You okay?” Foggy’s tone had shifted from a sleepy annoyance to somewhat concerned.
Matt closed his eyes. He didn’t deserve the love he received from his friends.
“I’m-” He started, but cut himself off when he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Was he okay? No, he didn’t think so.
“You’re kinda freaking me out here, man.”
“I fucked up, Foggy.” He deflated as he admitted it.
“With her?” Foggy pressed.
“With her. With everything.” Matt shrugged, blinking away the tears burning the back of his eyes. Your sudden return to his thoughts felt like whiplash, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “She deserves better than me.”
“Matt,” Foggy chided, and Matt could tell he was shaking his head, “Don’t say that. She loves you.”
“Maybe not anymore.” Matt knew how ridiculous and juvenile he sounded, but the Matthew-Murdock-party-of-one pity party was in full effect, and he was leaning into the sad corner of his being so aggressively he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.
“She loves you.” Foggy repeated. “I don’t think anything could change that. What happened?”
“I had a bad night and yelled at her. It was stupid and I feel like an ass-”
“An asshole.” Foggy finished, and Matt couldn’t stop the chuckle that followed this observation. “Listen, did you tell her any of this?”
“Not yet.” The longer Matt sat, the more he hated himself for leaving. The words he had shouted echoed in his mind. “She should just leave. I’m never going to be able to give her what she deserves.”
“What about what you deserve, Matt?” Foggy asked, heated in the defense of his very best friend, “You deserve to be loved, too.”
Matt sat with Foggy’s statement for a second, letting the love wash over him for the briefest moment. Is this what it’s like for the kind of people who can easily accept the love of others? His body felt warm and fuzzy, an unfamiliar but comforting sensation that had him rubbing the heel of his hand across his chest.
“I should go apologize and hope to God she’ll take me back.” Matt sighed.
“She will, Matt.” Foggy assured him. “She will.”
Matt returned the phone to his pocket and turned, heading back into the place that held his entire aching heart.
It's so excruciating to see you low
Just wanna lift you up and not let you go
This ultraviolet morning light below
Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh
I lived like an island, punished you with silence
Went off like sirens, just crying
Why'd I have to break what I love so much?
It’s on your face, don't walk away, I need to say
Hey, it's all me, in my head
I'm the one who burned us down
But it's not what I meant
Sorry that I hurt you
When Matt reentered the apartment, it had only been twenty minutes since he’d stormed out, but it had felt like hours. You were in the same place that he’d left you - curled up in a sitting position on the sofa - except now your cheeks were coated with salty tears that permeated the air around you. Matt tasted them on his tongue the second he opened the door, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest as he realized just how bad the situation was. You were so deep in thought, cycling through the words Matt had spat at you, that you hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“Petal?” Matt called softly, alerting you to his presence in the room. You startled, turning to look in his direction. The silence before you responded was deafening and anxiety inducing, something Matt had never handled well. He wrung his hands together and took a step closer to you. Finally, you spoke.
“You came back.”
Not a question, but not really a statement either. A simple observation that left Matt stumbling over his words.
“I uh…never really left. I was just downstairs.” He scratched the back of his neck. “On the steps out front. I didn’t go far.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back.”
Matt’s lip wobbled as he inhaled sharply and asked, “Do you want me to go?”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. He listened to your answer anyway. He would listen to any words you had to offer, even if they were words that might kill him.
“You said some terrible things, Matt.” You sniffled, sighing heavily as another wave of tears coated your cheeks. “You said ‘If you can’t handle this, I don’t think we should be together anymore.’ And the funny thing is, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be handling.”
“Petal, I-” Matt began, shaking his head.
“No, Matt.” Your voice had suddenly become very firm and very loud, all at once. Matt flinched. “I’m not finished.” You adjusted your body, leaning your head back against the sofa before continuing. “I don’t know who you are anymore. My Matty would never keep things from me or disappear for days at a time or yell at me. The man I fell in love with is missing, and I don’t know what to do to get him back.”
The hold Matt had on his tears was obliterated as you admitted your feelings to him. Warm tears fell down his face, every droplet an admission of guilt. You were right, of course. Matt hadn’t felt like himself in months, and instead of trying to get a grip on himself, he had been leaning into the suit every night, forcing his mind to focus on other things. He always took on the brunt of the pain in any situation - he’d been doing this his entire life - but he had not realized how much of that pain was being transferred to you every time he forgot himself.
“Baby, I’m- I can’t even say how sorry I am.” Matt sank to his knees in front of you, pleading. “You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you or come home to you after work like a normal boyfriend would and I’m sorry for the things I said. I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I will never, ever, deserve your love.” He swallowed a sob as he admitted what he thought was the truest thing he’d ever said out loud. “Foggy told me I deserve love but I’ve thought and thought about it and I can’t imagine a world where your love will ever feel like anything but a gift to me.”
You sighed again, sniffling as you lifted your hand to cradle Matt’s wet cheek.
“I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry I can’t be more. This is all I have to offer, and I know it’s selfish to ask you to keep loving me but I can’t be without you. You’re all I have.”
“I don’t understand, Matty.” You shook your head, furrowing your brows.
“You’re the only thing that brings me home. And I don’t mean physically. You’re the only reason I can find my way back to myself. You remind me of the love the world is capable of. Not even Foggy can do that for me the way that you do. Can’t you see that you’re it for me? Without you, I am just a man walking hand in hand with the Devil. There is no point without you.”
“Matty.” You sighed, caressing his cheekbones as tears cascaded down his face.
Matt wasn’t sure what he wanted you to say. That he did deserve love, or maybe that you weren’t going to leave him after tonight was over, or maybe anything besides ‘I don’t love you anymore’.
“Don’t leave me.” He begged, barely above a whisper, so tired of the war raging in his mind. If there was anything he was capable of doing tonight, it was pleading with you for this. Beyond that, he was useless. “Don’t leave.”
“Will you lay with me?” You asked, and Matt nearly collapsed into your hold. It was not what he was expecting, but he would take it. The inevitable self-hatred and doubt about this moment echoed in the back of his mind, but he was ignoring it for once. All he wanted to do was lay with you, so that’s exactly what he did.
Tell me that you're still mine
Tell me that we'll be just fine
Even when I lose my mind
I need to say
Tell me that it's not my fault
Tell me that I'm all you want
Even when I break your heart
I need to say
I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you (Ooh)
I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you (Ooh)
I need to say, hey, it's all me, just don't go
Meet me in the afterglow
Matt was on the verge of tears again, lying next to you in the bed that you had shared with each other for so many nights. He was so afraid of losing this, losing you. He wasn’t entirely sure he would survive if you asked him to leave after this. He wasn’t entirely sure that mindset was healthy, either, but that didn’t stop him from contemplating it. He was here, and you were here, and if he was destined to live in this doubt forever, then at least he would die next to you.
Your tears had long dried up, but the ache deep inside you was palpable and overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do. The hand you had led him here with, the one that you still held, the only thing connecting your body to his was his safety blanket. This was what people called a safe space, he thought. For the first time in a long time, Matt began to silently pray.
He prayed for you, and he prayed for himself, and mostly, he prayed for love. He prayed that the night would last forever, so that he could lay next to you for the remainder of his life. He prayed for forgiveness, and begged for yours. He prayed for the strength it would take if you didn’t grant it to him. Because if you asked him to leave, he would. It would hurt and possibly - no, definitely - kill him, but he’d do it, because you deserved that, at least. The possibilities of the night were endless, and that was the scariest thing to Matt. Anything could happen.
“What are you thinking about?” You asked, lightly squeezing his hand.
“I’m praying.” He murmured, squeezing your hand back.
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Oh, Matty.”
The smile on your face, the steady thump of your elevated heart rate, felt like a win. Comfortable silence overtook the room, and you were so still for so long that anyone else might’ve thought you had fallen asleep, but Matt knew better. You were thinking, contemplating every word that had been shouted, pleaded, and begged tonight. All the while, Matt prepared himself for the worst.
“The sun’s coming up.” You murmured.
“Yeah?” It was all he could muster. Everything hurt, and he never wanted this moment to end.
“Yeah.” You swept your fingertips over his cheeks, following the path of the sun as it draped itself across both of your bodies.
Matt swallowed, opened his mouth to ask the dreaded question, and then closed it and swallowed again. The gentle caress of your fingers felt like a brand in his skin. Finally, in a thick voice he asked for the second time in a matter of hours, “Do you want me to go?”
“Oh, Matty.” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes, and Matt’s heart sank into the ground below him. He thought he could do this, but he couldn’t. He was just supposed to leave what you had built with him? After everything, he was just supposed to count his losses and move on? No fucking way. His breathing had picked up, and he was so focused on his pounding heart that he almost missed the rest of your sentence. “I never wanted you to go. I just wanted you to understand how lonely I’ve been without you. I’m upset with you, but I’ll always love you, and I’ll never be the one asking you to leave.”
Matt stopped breathing for a moment, soaking in the warm relief as it crashed through him. He didn’t have to go, and you loved him. You loved him. You loved him.
“Are you sure?” He forced himself to ask, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
You let out a small giggle and pressed your lips to his forehead before responding. “Of course I’m sure, Matty. But it has to change, okay? We can’t do this to each other again.”
Matt could hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth. He would do anything to keep you here, holding him, keeping him safe, loving him. Anything.
“I promise.” He murmured, grabbing at your face to pull it closer to his. “I love you.”
He pressed a million kisses into your face until you let out the melodic laugh that he felt he could get drunk on. He would do anything to hear that sound again, to be the one causing that sound. Anything.
-
Tag List:
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#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#matthew murdock#daredevil#daredevil x you#daredevil x reader#daredevil fluff#daredevil angst#charlie cox#nmcu#foggy nelson#marvel#marvel imagine#daredevil imagine#amhrosina
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New Man
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
Warnings: oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, the tiniest bit praise kink Matty, unprotected sex (wrap them joysticks okay), creampie, implied cockwarming kinda, cheating
Genre: smut & Angst
Summary: "I don't wanna know about your new man // 'Cause if it was meant to be // You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to ---- // Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me" ~ New Man by Ed Sheeran
***
Eight months. It's been Eight months since you broke up with him and almost two months since you started seeing Drew. You like Drew, well enough. He's normal. Things with him are simple. Things with him are- parties with his frat brother friends and uncomplicated dates and on Sundays, you have your alone time because it's sports day and he always spends it with his bros. No worrying about psychotic billionaires, or murderous ninjas, or human traffickers or anything like that. Drew is normal. No one you'll fall in love with but you're not after love. You're after a change of pace from the chaos of dating an anonymous vigilante.
The one downside here is that your change of pace didn't come with an instruction manual in the bedroom and your vigilante could read you like a book before he even touched you and that is something that cannot be taught. Things with Drew are exactly as you want them but sometimes you just want to get off. You barely register your balcony door opening and Matt walking in until he speaks.
"It's Sunday." He says with a smirk. Your alone time has become your and Matt's time these days and you reluctantly smile.
"My new favorite day." You hum.
"Ditto." Matt stalks towards you and puts his hand on the back of your neck, kissing you fiercely as he sits next to you on your couch. You thread your fingers through his hair, enjoying the familiar feeling of his mouth against yours.
"You know you could've used the door." You laugh when you pull away from each other.
"That's not nearly as fun." Matt says, kissing your neck. One of your hands tightens in his hair while the other wraps around his wrist on the hand that's holding him up on the couch cushion by your ass.
"The fun part happens once you get here Matty." You say breathily as he nips and sucks at your throat hard enough to get a reaction from you but not so hard that he'll leave a mark.
"Why wait that long?" He hums. You roll your eyes and turn your attention to the buttons on his shirt. Matt lets you take it off of him before he moves to undress you, pulling your t-shirt over your head. His hands travel down your body, hooking into the hem of your shorts and helping you out of them. Matt drops to his knees and pulls your knees over his shoulders, wasting no time in diving into your heat. Your back arches as his tongue laps at your center eagerly.
"Fucking hell Matt." You moan, tugging at his hair. He groans against you burying his face further between your thighs. You gasp and jolt when Matt slides two fingers into you and Matt settles an arm over your waist to stop you from squirming.
"God I love how soft you feel." Matt grunts and then wraps his lips around your clit. His fingers curl against your inner walls, his mouth sucks at your bundle of nerves and it's such a deadly combination that your orgasm creeps up on you before you can even say anything. Not that you need to, you're sure Matt could sense it coming way before it covers his face. You pull Matt up to kiss you, your taste mixing with his on your tongue. Dragging your hands down Matt's stomach you loose the belt on his pants and shove them as far down as you can without breaking the kiss.
Matt grabs your hips and thrusts into you sharply. He moans deeply as your walls pulse around him. Matt sets his pace after a few moments, strong snaps of his hips against yours that have your back arching into him. You wrap your arms around him, letting your nails dig lightly into his skin. It's quick and rather unceremonious, Matt is nothing if not an attentive lover, but neither of you fills the space with sweet nothings like you'd have done before. The occasional praise is as far as you go but it's mostly moans and grunts as Matt pulls two more orgasms from you before spilling into you.
Matt settles into the couch, his arms still around you as he lays back, pulling you with him.
"Matt I've gotta clean up-"
"It can wait." Matt hums and you chuckle. Some things never change. Matt's always been cuddly after sex.
"Fine but only a few minutes." You yield. Not even a full minute later your phone rings but Matt makes no move to let you up. "I should check that."
"Why?"
"Well what if it's Drew?"
"It's not."
"How would you know? You don't even know the guy."
"Oh I know plenty about Drew." Matt scoffs.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You laugh.
"Let's not open that can of worms."
"You're so judgy. Drew is fine."
"Sure he's fine, but for someone else."
"Drew's fine for me too." You roll your eyes.
"If he was I wouldn't be here every week y/n."
"I said fine not perfect."
"We should stop talking about him. Because the last thing I wanna do is hear about your new man- and I'm sure he doesn't wanna hear about me either. So ignore the phone for now." Matt says and you let the conversation end there. He's right in some ways after all. Your relationship with Drew isn't even his business anyway. For now, you'll just cuddle and then send him on his way. Until next week.
***
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#daredevil fanfiction#daredevil angst#daredevil smut
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Give Up The World
summary: coming back home battered and bruised with a baby on the way makes matt rethink his nighttime activities.
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader
warnings: canon typical injuries and blood, little bit of angst, whole lotta fluff
word count: 1200+
A/N: i was literally in the middle of writing for a celebration prompt when i had a brainstorming sesh with @galaxysgal and this idea came to life as soon as my fingers touched my keyboard. i'm pretty sure this was almost done in what i imagine was the first day of writing.
reblogs and comments are welcomed!
-----
You can hear the stairs groan under his weight, one boot step heavier than the other- he was limping… a lot. You cringe as he groans and whines down the rest of the stairs, making his way to you. He can hear your gasp when he comes into view, blood dripping from the bottom of his mask as he sways on his feet.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth.
“What happened?” You ask, tears welling up in your eyes.
“Ambush, I- ah!” He groans, grabbing his side.
“Should’ve seen it coming.” The words ring in your ears as he limps over to the table and sits on the chair.
“I should- let me- the kit.” You eek out, and he can tell you’re freaked.
“Angel-”
“I’m okay, just stay there.” You scurry off to the bathroom and he sighs, hearing your elevated heart rate accompanied by the smaller one that started in your tummy just a few days ago. He strips himself of his helmet and his top, leaving a wide array of bruises, scars, and slices on display. His side, the cut he was holding earlier, gushes dark crimson blood, a reminder of how brutal this job is.
He hears your breath leave you once again as you observe him on the chair, until your adrenaline kicks back in and shakes you away from shock. The feet that carry you to your husband leaving louder footsteps than usual, the extra weight in your tummy being something you have yet to get used to. Your fingers trace his face softly, brushing over a bruise that paints his cheek green and yellow, and he leans into your warm palm.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He nods and closes his eyes, readying himself for the stinging burn that comes along with rubbing alcohol. You press the rag to his cut skin and he inhales sharply through his teeth and grunts.
“I’m sorry, Matty. I’m trying my best to make it not hurt.”
“It’s okay, I know, you’re doing amazing.” The two of you fall silent after that, only the sound of Matt’s pained grunts permeating the suffocating quiet. Your heart rate rises every time Matt makes a noise, followed by a whisper of “I’m sorry,” or “I love you,” falling from your lips and his own heart breaks a little every time it slips out.
“I can’t…” He says, and it makes you pause.
“Matthew?”
“I quit, I retire, whatever you want to call it. I can’t be Daredevil anymore.”
“What are you saying?”
“I have the most important parts of my life in this room right now, and I’ll be damned if I get myself killed out there instead of taking care of the two of you.”
“A-are you sure? This is a big thing to just go cold turkey on.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
In all fairness, he did go cold turkey and he stuck with it. He put all his efforts into house shopping, and all his aggression into the punching bags at Fogwell’s. Oftentimes he’d pause by the closet under the stairs that concealed the trunk that held his suit. You could tell he had an itching, a longing, to go back to his ways. His thumbs would begin tracing the scars on his knuckles from years of serving his penance, hands balled into fists, he’d twitch towards the hiding spot until his ears fell on you. On your growing baby and the small heartbeat that lay within your tummy. He’d remind himself of what lay ahead, what he quit for, why he continues to stay away.
You could tell it’d weigh heavy on his mind, flashes of aggression would show through, and he tried his best to channel it to more productive things, but with disagreements you could see it bleed through. His nostrils flared, his eyes went wide, his voice would drop an octave and suddenly you’d realize how exactly he instilled so much fear into his enemies. He’d always apologize as soon as he did it, though, it still hurt to know that he could unleash just a glimpse of unbridled fury against you.
It weighed heavily on your marriage, there were days where he’d stay up all night, listening to the sirens and knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it, just to be angry and irritable all day. You swore you’d never leave him though, and it paid off. After months of sitting in that darkness all alone, he let you in. He told you of all his intrusive thoughts, how he felt about anything and everything, what made him happy and what made him tick and why he couldn’t be near you on certain nights. It made sense, the way he explained it, why he did the things he does. It must’ve been a coincidence, but the second he shed a tear, your child kicked for the first time.
You gasped and grabbed his hand, placing it towards the side of your belly. He looks quizzically until he feels it, and the tears come quicker when he realizes.
“Oh-” He chokes up on his words.
“This. This is what we do everything for. This is ours, Matt, don’t you realize? I will never leave you for acting the way you do, I get it. But we have bigger priorities now.” He nods and laughs as he feels another kick, harder this time.
“Looks like you’ll be dealing with a mini-me.” He laughs.
“Unfortunately.”
-----
“Mommy, why does daddy have lines over here?” She points to his chest while laying on him. The three of you were laying in bed in the early morning, light shining through the windows of your Astoria home. Your four year old daughter, bless her soul, was the most curious kid on the block. She could smell your’s and Matt’s bullshit from a mile away when you wanted to appease her, and kept pushing until she got a real answer, or at least a high effort answer.
“So bumpy,” she observes, running her hand over his scars, “what is it?”
“It’s something… daddy always had.” Matt answers, and she tuts.
“Wrong, mommy, your turn.” Matt laughs at that.
“Lawyer’s daughter,” you huff, Matt’s laugh now shaking the bed, “well, baby, before you were born, daddy was a really good guy. He used to go out and save the world, every night! Sometimes, though, he’d get a little hurt, and mommy would have to fix his booboos-”
“Did you kiss em like mine?” She asks.
“No, sweetheart, that’s only for you.”
“Mommy likes me more!” She squeals at Matt.
“Anyways, sometimes when they healed, they left little bumps, or scars. It just shows how much daddy loved his city, and how he gave it away to love you now.”
“Thank you, daddy.” She buries her head in his shoulder and he holds her tight.
“I’d give up anything for you, bug, but you gotta give mommy the credit. I was hard to be around.” She looks up at you and tugs you into their cuddle pile.
Soon enough, she falls asleep, her puffs of air hitting Matt’s cheek as she lay on his shoulder.
“Thank you.” He mumbles sleepily.
“For what?”
“For staying with me, for giving her to me, for having faith in me when I was at my lowest.”
“I watched a building drop on you, I’m not letting you go over a few hissy fits.” He laughed at your attempt to lighten the mood.
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you too.” You yawn out, and Matt stays awake to listen to his girls’ heartbeats while they sleep peacefully.
#matt murdock#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock angst#dad!matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x wife!reader#matt murdock x pregnant!reader#daredevil#daredevil fluff#daredevil fanfic#daredevil angst#dad!daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x fem!reader#daredevil x female reader#daredevil x wife!reader#daredevil x pregnant!reader#marvel#marvel fluff#marvel angst#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel x fem!reader#marvel x female reader#husband!matt murdock
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Late post! To be honest, I just wanted this to be done tonight. I’m also adding a textless image if you want to zoom in on any details, and will continue below with the concept.
The basic premise of my fan comic (right now) is that Matt as Daredevil somehow causes the death of one or more people, which makes him go into a downward spiral and recklessly throw his life around during Daredevil activities. In this scene, Foggy is exasperated, trying to get Matt to see sense as to how careless he is being.
Next in the works is either a positive Matt and Foggy interaction based on some replies I got (thank you!!) or a page to practice drawing the Daredevil echolocation type panels. If you’ve read the comics you might know what I mean, if not, it’s like a two color contour line that outlines all of the objects in the space the way DD might “see” them. Other than that I’m glad to draw asks/requests.
If you saw the version of this where they were floating… no you didn’t <3
And thanks to MattFoggyFanartArchive for alt texting this! :)
Finally some notes on the art itself, mostly for future me. If you care to read, be warned they are mostly criticisms:
Matt and Foggy designs are not final, mostly based off of Checchetto design (hairstyles). The staging took a huge turn from how I planned it. Overall spent way too much time on this page, but then again that included planning, 2 sketches, lines, color, and lettering. Foggy’s mouth in panel 2 was a struggle. The dramatic lighting might be a little too dramatic, it’s hard to see the characters. And TOO MANY WORDS! Way too wordy. Although I liked this dialogue in the beginning, seeing it in action is not as good. It might work better in a writing piece than in comics. Finally have to stop hand writing my text when there is an “add text” button with a comic font. On a lighter note, introduced movement into the scene with Foggy circling the table and motioning with his hands. Made the page less static. The dramatic lighting does help to show which direction characters are facing. Had a lot of fun with decorating the office and hid a few easter eggs. Expressions are alright.
#daredevil#daredevil fanart#comic book art#matt murdock#foggy nelson#matt and foggy#daredevil angst#I think?
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All These Years [Part 15: "What If...?"]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]
Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut
Word Count: 4k
a/n: Some hope finally shows up in this installment! There's still a lingering bit of angst though, but I feel like overall this one is hopeful and a little bit frustrating. Feedback is always appreciated!
Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie
Picking up a fry from your plate, you took a bite as your eyes wandered around the outdoor dining space. The restaurant you and your co-worker Alicia had met up at for lunch today was as busy as it usually was on a Saturday afternoon. The pair of you had gotten incredibly lucky to even snag a table outside to eat at this time. Despite the bright sunshine of the early November day, the light breeze and the overhead canopy made the restaurant’s patio an absolutely perfect spot this afternoon. Even with the excess noise of the various conversations going on all at once among the tables around you, you felt content. Something you’d noticed you’d felt ever since moving here, even if it often felt like something was missing from LA.
Shortly after you had moved to Los Angeles, you’d quickly connected with Alicia in your office. She had grown up in and around LA and had immediately taken it upon herself to acquaint you with all the best coffee shops, restaurants, and beach spots. She had even taken you out to the best clubs and bars for many a drunken night. The pair of you had quickly become fast friends which had certainly made your transition across the country vastly easier.
From across the table, you saw Alicia lift her glass of iced tea, drawing it to her lips as she eyed you. You knew what was coming next, because she always delved into the real conversation once you’d both gotten into your food. Raising a brow at her, you expectantly waited for the questions to come.
“So how was last night?” she asked, taking a sip from her glass. “Was this one good? Bad? Mind blowing?”
You couldn’t fight back the laugh, shaking your head as you popped the rest of the fry into your mouth and chewed. Last night you’d had a date–one of many since you’d moved to Los Angeles a little over four months ago. The first few you’d gone on hadn’t amounted to much, ending early and being entirely uneventful. Initially all you found yourself thinking about was Matt’s face and how heartbroken he’d looked when you’d left him back at your apartment that day all those months ago. But as the weeks gradually wore on since you’d been here, you’d repeatedly told yourself that you came here to try to live your life. Slowly you eventually found yourself becoming more open to dating. Because you weren’t about to turn around and run back to New York solely because you missed Matt.
Which you did. That hollow ache in your chest returned with a vengeance every time you thought about him. You missed Matt. Missed him even more because you’d only gotten one single message from him shortly after you arrived here. It had been a text, too. Something Matt never generally sent you because you knew he hated the voice to text application on his phone. All it said was ‘I hope you find your happiness.’ You hadn’t even responded back because every time you re-read his message you broke down in tears.
You hadn’t spoken to Matt in months because of it. You’d become too afraid to reach out to him the more time passed on, too. And whether it was because it hurt him too much, or he thought you didn’t want to speak to him, or he was trying to give you space, or he wanted nothing to do with you now, you never heard from him, either. Though you did speak to Karen and Foggy often. Karen had started her first semester at Columbia and was working on her law degree with the help of Matt and Foggy. She was also still trying to juggle working in the office with them when she could throughout the week. And Foggy apparently had been getting more serious with Marci while also keeping you updated about how well Nelson and Murdock had been doing.
But neither of them ever told you much about Matt, and you were always too afraid to ask.
So you’d found yourself going on dates. Sleeping around a bit more than you ever had before. You figured your old roommate at Columbia would’ve been proud of you with how much sex you’d been having for once in your life. You sure knew Alicia enjoyed hearing the stories every Saturday afternoon over lunch.
“He was good,” you said, answering Alicia’s question as you picked up another fry. “I certainly wouldn’t say mind blowing, though. I don’t think I’ve come across mind blowing sex yet.”
“Well that’s a damn shame,” she replied, setting her glass back onto the table. “So if you had to pick between LA men and New York men, which do you prefer?”
Your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead at her question. Across the table, Alicia sent you a mischievous grin before taking a bite out of her panini.
“That’s sort of hard to answer,” you told her, biting off another piece of fry. “I mean, what am I judging this by? The amount of men that want to have sex with me? How attractive I find them? Their general attitudes towards relationships?”
“All of it,” she said as she swallowed her bite of food. “I want an overall answer and a breakdown for each category.”
You laughed at her, shaking your head. “What is this? One of Scott’s impromptu meetings?” you teased back. “At least he gives me smoothies made out of lawn clippings before he shakes me down for those.”
Alicia snorted in response, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried not to spit out her food while she laughed. It was true though, your boss here was a big fan of impromptu meetings. And also green smoothies.
“Okay, if I had to pick an overall winner solely based on those categories, I’d say Los Angeles men have New York men beat,” you answered. “But only because they take the win in both sex and physical appearance–which I’m thinking is because most of them spend their time shirtless at the beach. And apparently all the men out here want to do is just have sex. But that means most men here aren’t too interested in dating. Or at least, the guys I keep meeting aren’t. They just want a quick hookup. Or a no-strings attached casual thing with zero commitment.”
“Well you seem to be enjoying those,” Alicia pointed out. “With the amount of flings I’ve heard you having.”
You shrugged a shoulder, your focus dropping down to your plate of half-eaten food. Your stomach knotted a little as Matt’s face came to your mind. You missed that soft, warm smile he used to shoot you when you entered a room. You even missed the shit-eating grin he always made as he threw out one of his sarcastic jokes.
“What?” she asked, leaning forward towards you and catching your eye again. “You mean to tell me the plethora of sex isn’t what you want?”
You shrugged again. “No, not really,” you heard yourself admitting. “I wish the men I met were more interested in second dates that weren’t just an excuse for more sex. I feel like I haven’t actually gotten to know anyone on a date since I’ve been here. It’s always just empty flirtatious banter and sex. There’s no… depth .”
“Mmm,” Alicia hummed with a nod, her focus returning to her food. “Now you know why I’m still single.”
You sighed lightly, picking up a fry and toying with it. Last night had been fun, but honestly you were tired of repeatedly going on first dates that didn’t go anywhere. And you were starting to get tired of having sex and then one of you inevitably needing to get dressed and disappear immediately afterwards. It truthfully wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted something more .
“All the LA men can’t compare to the one you left back in New York, though, can they?”
Your attention shifted back to Alicia as her question hung heavy in the air. She was staring at you with that knowing look on her face as she sat back in her chair.
“I didn’t leave him, exactly,” you corrected her. “He wasn’t–wasn’t exactly mine in the first place to leave.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Not the point,” she said. “You miss him. All the sleeping around and constant dates–it was either to forget him or to try to find someone else. But you can’t, can you? I see it on your face every time we talk about your love life.”
“I mean I was trying to find someone out here,” you admitted. “I was open to it. But it just doesn’t seem like the men I meet are open to anything real .”
“Or,” Alicia said, pointing a finger at you, “you’re not really willing to try to find someone else because you’re still in love with Mr. NYC Lawyer.”
You shook your head quickly. “I don’t think that’s–”
“Admit it,” Alicia said, cutting you off. “You’re in love with him still.”
“Well I mean it’s–it’s not like you just fall out of love with someone,” you told her. “Especially when it’s been years that you’ve had feelings for the person.”
“You know what I don’t get?” she asked you, picking her iced tea back up. “Why you both don’t try long distance dating. I mean, it’s not convenient, but like…if there’s something there, why aren’t either of you trying?”
“Because he was with someone before I left,” you reminded her. “He had been considering proposing to her.”
“That was months ago now,” she pointed out. “Why are you holding back?”
“I–I haven’t heard from him,” you admitted.
Alicia pointed a finger at your cell phone sitting on the table beside your water. Your eyes guiltily dropped down towards it.
“You’ve got a phone and perfectly functioning fingers,” she said. “You’re just as capable of reaching out as he is. You’re just scared.”
Eyes lingering on the phone beside you, you felt nerves suddenly shaking loose in your gut. Because she was right. You were scared to reach out to Matt.
“Maybe I am,” you whispered.
Because what if he had moved on? What if he’d gotten back with Erica and things had gotten serious? Or he’d met someone new and he’d fallen in love with them? Or if he had somehow grown pissed that you’d left him and now he wanted nothing to do with you?
Or what if he still wanted you as much as you wanted him? What then?
A knock on his office door caused Matt to stop his typing, his head swiveling in the direction of the noise. He knew it was Karen and not Foggy standing there wanting to speak with him, he could tell from the scent of her shampoo and light perfume that was still noticeable past the smell of food lingering on her–she must’ve picked lunch up for the office. He noticed her heart was beating a little nervously in her chest though, which had Matt’s eyes narrowing curiously behind his glasses.
“Hey, I grabbed lunch from that deli nearby,” she said, her tone a little timid. “And I uh, was hoping to talk to you and Fog about something. If that’s alright?”
“Sure,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair and focusing on her. “What’s going on, Karen?”
“Well I–I was hoping to talk to you both,” she repeated nervously. “Fog’s over at my desk and I can’t actually stay for lunch because I have that exam today.”
“Right, yeah,” Matt said, adjusting his tie. “I forgot you had that today.”
“Yeah, I figured you and Foggy have had a busy week,” she continued. “That’s why I grabbed you guys lunch. I had a feeling you both would work right through it if I didn’t and you guys need to take better care of yourselves during the day. You’re both running yourselves ragged.”
Matt rose from his chair, making his way around his desk. He heard the way Karen turned and began making her way back towards her own desk in the main part of the office. Matt followed out of the room behind her.
“Well you certainly need to take care of yourself, too,” he pointed out. “You’ve been doing a lot for us around here while still focusing on your classes.”
“Yeah,” Foggy cut in, “you really do need to take a few minutes to yourself.”
Matt heard Karen’s hands fidgeting together as she expelled a light laugh. He could hear the nervous edge to it though, which only further had Matt wondering what was going on with her.
“It’s funny you should say that, actually,” Karen began. “Because as you both know, I’ve been really busy between this first semester at Columbia and keeping things running as smoothly as possible here at the firm.”
“And you’ve been doing amazing at both,” Matt assured her immediately.
“You’re a literal saint and we don’t deserve you,” Foggy added.
Matt could feel the heat rising in Karen’s cheeks as she blushed. The nervous edge didn’t leave her though as she stopped beside her desk. To Matt it sounded like her pulse was quickly increasing again.
“Well, here’s the thing,” Karen said carefully. “I’m coming up on winter break and I had this crazy idea and I was hoping you guys would be okay with it.”
“Shoot,” Foggy replied instantly.
Matt heard Karen say your name, aware that she’d sent him an apologetic look as she did. Foggy and Karen didn’t often talk about you around him since you’d left. They always told him that he tended to get quiet and moody whenever they did. And hearing it now, uttered when he wasn’t expecting it, had his heart clenching in his chest.
“We uh, we’ve been talking about me coming out to visit her for a few weeks now,” Karen continued slowly, her focus shifting back and forth between himself and Foggy as she spoke. “I know we all have–have missed her, but I also know you guys are too busy here to just disappear on a trip to LA. But I was hoping that…you both wouldn’t mind if I took a few days? To go see her? Get away from the cold weather here for a bit and take a break from all the stress these past few months have brought me?”
“How long are you thinking?” Foggy asked.
“Like…four or five days?” Karen nervously answered. “Basically a week?”
Matt could hear the way Foggy’s attention shifted to him across the room, his eyebrows raising. But he also could hear the way his own heart was rapidly pounding in his chest. He tried hard not to think about you too much, though admittedly he failed often at that. You were almost a near constant thought on his mind unless he was buried in work or busy as the Devil late at night.
He missed you. Every second of every day it felt like. He’d had absolutely no interest in trying to date since you’d left, always ridiculously hoping today would be the day you decided to come back to Hell’s Kitchen. But he knew you weren’t going to come back. From what he’d gathered from Karen and Foggy, you were enjoying the LA weather and your new job. You were doing good. And he was happy that you were, even if there was a sharp pain that physically shot through his chest whenever he thought about you.
He hadn’t heard from you since you moved, either. Matt hadn’t known what to make of that. He’d sent you a text, not wanting to overstep his boundaries by calling you, but also not wanting to just let you go from his life. But you’d never reached out to him after that. Not in the five months since you’d been gone. You spoke to Karen and Foggy every day, though. He knew there was a group chat that you three were always texting in, but Matt wasn’t a part of it. He did his best to try and not let it bother him, but it did. Because he still wanted to be someone in your life, but he felt like he’d finally told you that he loved you only just to lose you completely.
“What do you think, Matt?” Foggy asked, drawing him back to the moment. “I think we can manage a week without her, don’t you?”
Matt cleared his throat, thankful the glasses on his face were hiding the tears building in his eyes. He nodded quickly, his hands landing on his hips.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, his voice off even to his own ears. “When were you thinking of going, though?”
“Next week?” Karen asked hopefully.
“Oh,” Matt whispered.
“We should still be fine,” Foggy said quickly. “I don’t think this case will go on past this week, we’re nearing the end of it. So yeah, I say go have fun in LA. Say hi to our girl for us. Maybe even get her to do a video chat sometime because I haven’t seen her in forever and I miss her.”
Matt stood there, his fingers digging into his own hips uncomfortably. He missed the sound of your voice. Missed the scent of you. Missed the feel of you in his arms even if he could only ever seem to recall you crying in them lately.
“Yeah, we’ll–we’ll be fine,” Matt muttered, his mind still on thoughts of you.
“Okay, great!” Karen said, her tone bright as the nervous edge dissipated. “I have to run to my exam, but once I finish that I’m going to call her and get things figured out. Book a flight and all of that.”
“You deserve the time to relax!” Foggy told her. “You’ve been working your ass off!”
Matt was barely present as he wished Karen good luck and thanked her for lunch before she was leaving the office in an excited buzz. He longingly wished it was him getting to go see you in LA. He wished that you’d actually want him to come visit. He doubted you would.
The second Karen had left, Foggy hadn’t wasted a moment before going through the paper bag of food on her desk, digging out what Matt could easily tell was a meatball sub along with Matt’s usual turkey and avocado sandwich. Admittedly he didn’t have much of an appetite though, not after Karen had brought you up.
“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Foggy asked, cutting through the silence that had fallen in Karen’s absence. “You’ve got that sad puppy look on your face.”
Matt quickly cleared his throat again, shaking his head as he reached out, accepting the sandwich Foggy had offered to him.
“I do not have a sad puppy look,” he muttered.
“You do, but that’s not the point here,” Foggy countered. “Karen brought her up and now you’re thinking about her. It’s all over your face, Matt. You miss her.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Matt replied, turning and making his way back to his office.
“Yes it does!” Foggy snapped.
Matt stopped mid-step at Foggy’s unexpected outburst. His hand tightened around the sandwich, his teeth grinding together. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes but he fought them down. He didn’t want to have this conversation again with Foggy. He was tired of it.
“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated firmly. “We’ve been over this countless times, Fog. She made her choice. She knows how I feel and she’s never reached out to me. And she’s–she’s happy where she is now. So I’m happy for her. End of story.”
“ Call . Her ,” Foggy forcefully ordered.
Something snapped inside of Matt as he spun on his heel, a mixture of hurt and anger coursing through him. He focused on his best friend, his shoulders squared as the words flew from his lips.
“And tell her what , Fog?” Matt growled, voice low. “That I miss her? That I want her to come back to Hell’s Kitchen and be with me? That I fall asleep every night wishing she was there beside me instead of falling asleep in an empty bed night after night?” He took a step closer to Foggy, feeling the fight quickly falling out of his friend with the more he said. “Am I supposed to beg her, Fog? Guilt her? Pester her until she gives up what she wants? Is that what you want me to do?”
“No,” Foggy weakly replied, shaking his head. “No, Matt it’s not. But–”
Matt held up a hand, cutting his friend clean off. “No, Fog. She’s happy. She’s told you and Karen as much. And I–I love her,” he continued, the words coming out sounding as broken as Matt felt inside. “Which means I won’t ruin this for her. I’m not going to ask anything of her. She knows how I feel.”
“But what if she misses you, too?” Foggy questioned him earnestly. “What if she still loves you, Matt? What if she’s been in LA wondering why you haven’t reached out to her?”
“I reached out to her,” Matt countered.
“You sent her a text, Matt,” Foggy pointed out flatly. “ One text. You’ve never even tried to call her.”
“She’s never tried to call me,” Matt shot back. “She never even responded to my text, Fog. I told her I have loved her for years and she left me. She left . I think she made it quite clear what she wants.”
Matt heard Foggy drop his sandwich onto Karen’s desk, his heavy footfalls hurriedly making their way over to him. He tracked Foggy’s movements with his head, surprise jolting through him when Foggy grabbed onto the lapels of his suit coat with both hands firmly.
“I want you to listen to me loud and clear, man, because I’m tired of saying this to you,” Foggy began. “She’s been in love you with you for years , Matt. That does not go away over a few weeks or months! Call her !”
Matt’s lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to control his emotions. His throat felt like it was closing up on him; the subject of you always had this effect on him, even before he'd known you’d felt the same way.
“What if–” he began, stopping when he struggled to get the words to come out. “What if she’s moved on with someone else, Fog? What if she doesn't want me? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”
Foggy lightly shook Matt by the lapels of his suit coat as if he was trying to shake some sense into him. Matt frowned at the gesture immediately, but that didn't deter Foggy’s enthusiasm.
“But what if she hasn’t moved on to someone else?” Foggy countered. “What if she does want to talk to you, Matt? What if she’s still in love with you?”
“But I’m never going to move to LA,” Matt reminded his friend. “And she’s happy there. How would anything even work between us? Because I will not ask her to choose me, Fog. You know I won’t.”
“Maybe she would choose you because she wants to, buddy,” Foggy told him gently. “Just–just give it some thought, okay? Don’t wait another almost seven years to actually try with her. Because you’ll never know what could’ve been if all you do is keep playing this game of what if’s, Matt.”
Foggy’s words settled in Matt’s mind, the weight of them too heavy to ignore. Matt still felt uncertain though, because surely if you wanted him in your life you’d have tried to keep him there, right? But you hadn’t tried at all. So what did that mean?
Nodding solemnly back at Foggy, Matt said, “I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to burst into her life and ruin what she already has going on. If she’s been trying to move past this–past me –it’s better if I leave her alone and let her.”
Turning back around, Matt quietly ducked his head and made his way back to his office. A myriad of what if’s were in fact running through his mind as he closed the door behind himself. But as he made his way over to his chair behind his desk, settling into it, there was one question that kept repeating louder than the others.
What if he was misreading you again?
[END NOTES]
Yes! More end notes! Those of you who follow me on AO3 know how much I love them 😅
We get BOTH point of views in this installment! It's been about four/five months now since Reader has moved to LA as we see here and she is certainly out trying to live her best life, but as probably expected, she hasn't forgotten about Matt entirely. While she's been out having fun and quite a few one-night stands, she's quickly realizing she wants something serious. The pointless sex isn't cutting it for her. And Matt is apparently in Hell's Kitchen pining over Reader while she's gone, too. But...neither of them are talking to each other. And both are seemingly a bit too stubborn or scared to reach out. Even if their friends are trying to knock some sense into them. But Karen is soon on her way to visit Reader in LA, so maybe her visit and a certain video chat will help get these two talking again?
The next installment for this series is just over half written already, but I still have no title for it yet. I'm not sure how soon I'll post it, but we are very much nearing the comfort and happy parts of this series! And smut. I did promise eventual smut for this one.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock series#daredevil#daredevil angst
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our loss
masterlist
pairing: matt murdock x reader
summary: matt doesn't really know what to think, now that you're not his anymore
warnings: breakup, established relationship, sadness and grief, crying, feelings of numbness
a/n: i'm going through something. please bear with me.
Matt doesn't know what to say. How to respond. Or how to communicate his feelings; words, thoughts, desires and damnation all left unspoken.
He replays your voicemail more times than he can be bothered to count, because for the moment, it feels like that's all he has left. He knows it isn't entirely true, because you're still here — living, breathing, in the apartment two blocks down and to the left he's become so familiar with — but you're not his. Not anymore.
He knows your routine intimately, being that it's a Thursday night. Usually, you're out at dinner with one of your hometown friends, ordering the same thing every time, adorned with your favourite red lipstick that you'd leave on the sides of his neck. It scares him that he doesn't quite know what you're doing now. He could always take his cane and meander towards the city, taking a route he's committed to memory, letting his brain wander but his feet carry him subconsciously to his destination. Then, he could simply listen. Drown out the wails of the city, the hopes and dreams that manifest and shatter in the same minute.
He could focus on you, and the salt distilling in the air, your body-wracking sobs, or the kind of silent cry that has your mouth open in an unending, soundless scream. Maybe you've buried your face in the pillow — his pillow — clutching one of his shirts and wishing, begging, somehow, for the pain to stop.
But he won't do that.
It'd be too tempting to make his way up; hell, to scale the side of the building, just so he could hold you and remind you that you're safe, that you're loved, and that you'd have a man who'd raze the whole world at your command, Catholic values be damned.
Matt contemplates all of this for a second, having resigned himself to his sofa, his head propped uncomfortably against the armrest and his plaid blanket draped haphazardly over his torso. He blinks slowly, feeling the tension building in his temples and jaw, letting his hands curl and unfurl not into fists, but muscle memories of tenderness. It's like his hands know what they're missing, instinctively moving into the same positions he'd take up when holding your waist, when caressing your face.
He murmurs a sound, what he thinks is a butchery of your name, laying there unceremoniously as his heart squeezes over and over again, as dread and loss and grief twist in his stomach.
Why does it feel like every time something good happens to him, it just as quickly is taken away? He knows what you'd say — that this is untrue, that it isn't his fault, and he shouldn't beat himself up for things out of his control. But it's hard not to default to his programming in times like these. He tries to move past, to edge his thoughts along, perhaps not for himself yet, but for you.
He shuffles downwards, allowing his head to fall flat on the seat and his feet to hang off the edge of the couch. He thinks that his shivering could be attributed to the cold, or simply the fact that he doesn't really know what to do next. He's bristling, his own body unsure of whether to send blood to his muscles or his brain.
All his relationships, or the meaningful ones, at least, have crashed and burned in the sense that they failed and he moved on. It's always been simple: never hang onto one person for too long, because you're too important, you've got too much at stake to hold onto dead feelings.
You're different.
You're the ray of sunshine in his otherwise bleak life of justice and bloodstained glory, the grounding tether to the tangible world. Goodness was wrought from your warmth and love.
He grits his teeth, shoving down the pangs of nostalgia: of nights spent in his bed, of the softness of your lips on his skin, of the unadulterated joy you'd unearthed.
A breakup won't change the fact that you still make him whole. It won't change much, truth be told. It's the little things, however, that have begun to fall away, like the fact that he might not be privy anymore to your innermost thoughts, that you're beginning to plan your future without him in mind.
He thinks back to an analogy he once heard: one about a well-loved plate, one that's been dropped and pieced together time and time again. The plate is still round, still held together by glue that has stood the test of knives and forks, of microwaves and dishwashers, of constant use.
Except now, there are chips around the rim, sometimes appearing a few at a time, others days or weeks apart. They won't damage the structural integrity of the plate, and they shouldn't be used as an excuse to throw it away, but they mar its surface. Each chip is a loss in its own right, however insignificant or large. They can be repaired over time, but for now, they exist.
As wounding as they are, Matt needs to allow them to exist in order to move on, because dwelling on them, wanting to throw the whole dish away without recognising its beauty or resilience would be a waste. At least he thinks it's the right answer.
He reaches for his phone on the coffee table. As much as Matt finds the notion of seeking help difficult, and often irritating, the hollowness in his chest demands to be shared, to be discussed and picked at until he can't bother to dissect it anymore. He aims to call Karen because he's positive she out of all people would know just what to do, but he hits play on your voicemail again.
You're crying.
"Matt," you start, bursting into sobs at the mere utterance of his name. "I just... I don't even know if I want to leave you this message. I don't know what to say to you, only that I needed to say something to you." There's a shaky pause, a jagged breath, and your voice trickles to a whisper. "I loved you, Matt. I love you. I would've done anything for you. I would've gone anywhere you asked. And I don't know how to look at you without wanting more, without craving what has been and what could've been. Maybe someday it'll be different, and we can start fresh," — you hiccup, and Matt reels inwards, his lip quivering at the sheer agony in your words — "but we need time to figure that out." You sigh, plaintively.
And as he listens to your next sentence, he mouths the words in sync with you. They taste foreign, they're a sore in his mouth, but it's a kernel of light nevertheless. It's a drop of gold swirling in the inky mess of his soul.
"We'll find our way back to each other."
He whispers the next words out loud, doing his best not to talk over the voicemail version of you. "I know we will."
#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#daredevil angst#daredevil x reader#daredevil#x reader#matt murdock fanfiction#daredevil fanfiction#tw breakup#rhi writes 💻
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Don’t Let Go
Hello, loves! I’ve got some angst with a happy/hopeful ending for yall! I hope you enjoy!! Thanks to @phoebe-danvers for reading this over for me. You da best 😘 Reposting to see if this fixes the tag issues
Tagging: @darling-ghosts @budcooper @aellynera @shakespeareanwannabe @peachy-aisha @harleywaymustdie @enjoymyloves
Matt and you had been dating for some time. You knew his secret, knew about his time spent protecting Hell’s Kitchen and had accepted every single part of him. You thought that things were perfect.
And then she came.
Like a tornado in the night, Elektra whirled into your lives and left destruction in her wake. Matt and you had never really fought before but now you fought almost daily. You bickered over anything and everything, but especially about Elektra. You trusted Matt, you did, but when he started ignoring his other responsibilities for her, you drew the line. Seeing them together was even worse though. You may have trusted Matt, but you did not trust her. The way she looked at Matt and the way she acted around him told you everything you needed to know. Elektra wanted Matt for herself, and you wouldn’t put it past her to do anything in her power to get him. It made you nervous, but Matt merely brushed off your concerns, saying that even if she wanted him, he no longer wanted her.
And that should have been enough for you. Would have been enough if you didn’t continue to find them in increasingly compromising positions. Not only that, but they looked good together. Hell, they worked well together as well. It got easier and easier to think Matt would be happier without you. Between the fighting and the sight of them together… it wasn’t hard to put thoughts in your head.
Your breaking point came the night Matt came home with Elektra injured in his arms, Stick following close behind. You had immediately jumped up, asking what you could do to help only to be completely ignored. You had to watch as Matt ran around getting whatever Stick asked for, the way he kneeled beside her, her hand clasped in his as he prayed over her. What truly broke you though, was the conversation you heard them have in his bedroom as you sat with Stick.
“When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I- I felt hollow.” The first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks and you heard Stick sigh softly. You stood, ignoring everything else Matt said and walked to the door. You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your keys, hesitating for a minute before taking Matt’s key off your ring and leaving it on the table by the door. You walked out without another word.
You’re unsure of how long you walked for. It was dangerous to walk in Hell’s Kitchen this late at night by yourself, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. When your phone started ringing and you pulled it from your pocket to see Matt’s name, you broke down even harder. You waited for it to finish ringing before you called Karen. It rang a few times before she finally picked up, her voice rough with sleep. There was a beep, indicating another call coming through, but you ignored it.
“Hello?”
“K-Karen… I-I need somewhere to stay. Please. I can’t-“
“What happened? Where are you? Where’s Matt?” At his name, you sobbed again and shook your head, even knowing she couldn’t see it.
“Please, Karen. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You heard her sigh sadly, before agreeing. She insisted she stay on the line with you as you made the trek to her place, and you were blessedly left alone for the duration of the trip. Karen was quick to open the door when you reached her place and she tugged you into her arms. She let you cry it out and when you finally managed to calm down, she asked you what happened. You knew you couldn’t tell her the whole truth since she still didn’t know about Daredevil so you told her the partial one.
“There was a woman in his bed… He said she was just a friend who needed somewhere to stay but then… then I heard him speaking to her. Karen, the way he spoke to her, I-“
“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Matt would do this to you, he seemed so happy with you…”
“I thought so too.” You whispered. The two of you stay up for a while talking until you finally fall into a fitful sleep on her couch.
You’re woken in the morning by a banging on her door and you can hear Matt call desperately through it for Karen. You flinch as Karen comes out of her room and she gives you a look.
“Stay there and I’ll get him to leave. He’s probably just worried about you.” Karen whispered before heading to the door. You sunk down on the couch so you were hidden and so you wouldn’t have to see Matt. Karen answered the door, only opening it a crack. You could hear them speak to each other, though you blocked out what was said until you heard Karen snap Matt’s name.
“She doesn’t want to see you. Matt-“ You peaked over the couch only to see Matt standing in the living room panting. You sunk down so only your eyes were visible. Karen came stomping in after him and opened her mouth to rip Matt a new one, but you stopped her.
“It’s… it’s fine, Kare. Can you give us a minute?” Karen looked between the two of you and you knew she wanted to argue but she finally sighed and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Behave, Murdock.” She snipped before slipping into her room and closing the door to give the two of you some semblance of privacy. Matt and you were silent for several minutes and you refused to be the one to break the silence this time.
“Why… why did you leave? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Matt asked, his voice bordering on scolding and causing you to scoff.
“Not worried enough to come looking for me until the morning.” You snapped and Matt flinched.
“You know why I couldn’t come looking until this morning, that’s not fair.” You sighed and shook your head.
“Stick could have easily looked after her. Besides, I heard what you said. You didn’t need me there.” Matt furrowed his brow and cocked his head.
“What do you mean you ‘heard what I said’?” You looked away from him and picked at the blanket still covering your lap.
“I heard what you said to Elektra.” You swallowed thickly, emotion suddenly overwhelming you. “About how you felt hollow when you thought you might lose her. And I saw you, the way you were with her. You still love her.”
When Matt didn’t contradict you, you simply nodded.
“That’s what I thought. We’ve done nothing but fight since she got here and then last night… I refuse to let myself be pushed aside like this. If you don’t want this, if you want her instead, you need to man up and tell me.”
“Sweetheart, please-“ Suddenly angry, you stand and point a finger menacingly at him.
“No. No! You don’t get to call me that after last night.” Matt stepped forward until he was directly in front of you. He tried to put his hands on your arms, but you stepped away from him, shoving his hands aside.
“Listen to me. Please? You didn’t hear everything I said. Please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you like this.” Matt pleaded, begging you to stop, to listen to him.
“Then explain, Matthew, because I don’t understand how this could be construed any other way.”
“You’re right, okay? I do still love her, and I think a part of me always will. But that doesn’t mean I want her. When I was talking to Elektra last night, I did tell her that I felt hollow when I thought I had lost her, but you know what else I told her? I told her that I didn’t want to feel that way, I didn’t want to care so much about her, because it wasn’t fair to you. Because I love you. I love you in a way that far outweighs my old love for her. I see a future with you, I want a future with you. Elektra and I had our time. I don’t want her, sweetheart, I want you.”
Tears ran unchecked down your cheeks as you listened to his earnest words. Even without his ability to listen to heartbeats and tell when people were lying, you knew every word was the truth. You just had to decide if it was enough.
“But Matt… all the fighting we’ve been doing, all the running around you’ve been doing… are you sure this is what you want? Cause it doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like you want me.” You sobbed out the last word and Matt could practically feel his heart shatter. He’d done this. He’d hurt you to the point that you genuinely felt he didn’t want you.
“Listen to me.” He breathed earnestly. “You are the only one I want. And I will do whatever it takes to fix this. I will get down on my knees right now and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what it takes. I am so sorry, sweetheart. I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like this. Please, sweetheart. Please give me a chance to fix this even though I don’t deserve it.”
You were quiet for so long that Matt was sure you were going to tell him to go to hell. And he would admit that he would deserve it. Yet when you began speaking, it was with a tentative hope.
“If… if you really mean that, we can work on it. But Elektra-“
“She’s already gone.”
“What?”
“I sent her and Stick on their way before I came looking for you. I had to give Elektra enough time to heal enough to be able to move, but once she was, I told them to leave.” You blinked up at Matt in shock.
“Really?”
“Really. And Elektra knows that any future dealings we have will be strictly professional. But once the Hand is taken care of, she knows to leave.” You didn’t need Matt’s abilities to know he was telling the truth. He really had come prepared to do whatever it took to get you back. So, you took a deep breath and you took a leap of faith.
“Okay, Matt. But you have a lot of making up to do. If you ever do anything like this again, I will leave and I won’t come back. We’re gonna need some ground rules while we sort this out but we can try.”
“Yes, sweetheart, of course. Anything you want or need, I will do. I just want this. I just want you.”
And while it would take you a long time to truly get past what happened, Matt never let you question his feelings for you again.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#matt murdock x you#daredevil x reader#daredevil angst#daredevil x you#matt murdock fanfic
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I Would Wait Forever - Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: You and Matt have been friends forever and one night, after mutual pining, Matt takes a risk
Words: 3k
Warnings: none
Y/N’s POV
I’m jolted awake by the sound of the front door shutting, a dark figure moving around almost silently as if he was trying not to wake me, masking being put down. Matt’s back from being Hell Kitchen’s vigilant, the famous Daredevil. We’ve been best friends for years so of course I worked it out quickly. Well, let’s just say Matt forgot to his suit somewhere other than his wardrobe that I constantly raid as his hoodies are so soft and fluff so of course I’m gonna steal them.
I gather my thoughts, trying to steady my heart after waking from a nightmare and I can’t stop the small flutter in my chest as Matt steps into the moonlight streaming through his floor to ceiling windows. He looks exhausted, his suit torn and bloodstained and he practically collapses into the couch, head falling to my shoulder. My heart rate skyrockets and I’m groaning as he’s laughing, soft and warm before pressing a kiss to my shoulder where my shirt has slipped down. His lips feel like a spark of electricity, causing me to shiver as his lips ghost my skin. My mind is racing as if try to savour the feeling, storing it away for a future moment.
We’ve always had a close relationship, but lately it feels like something has changed. There have been moments I’ve caught him looking at me in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. I know he can’t see me in the way but it makes me feel like he’s looking straight into my soul and it has made it hard to keep my feelings in check as I don’t want to ruin our friendship by confessing how I feel. I reach up, running my hands through his fluffy hair as I ask, “Rough night?” Trying to keep my voice steady.
He nods, letting out a sigh, breath ghosting my neck, “It’s never easy out there,” His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, “But I can’t just sit back and let those bastards run rampant.”
I understand his drive to fight for justice but the thought of him getting hurt or worse, losing him, makes me want to stop him leaving every night. I know I should tell him how I feel about him but I’m losing him in anyway so I just stuff those feelings to the back of my mind and focus on being there for him as a friend, “You want me to run you a bath?”He’s nodding, moving his head from my shoulder so I can stand and he holds his arms out with a pout of his lips as his deep chocolate eyes are on my face but slightly too far up for him to not be blind. It makes me laugh how cute he can be as I take his hands and pull him to his feet even though he can very well do it himself.
I head to the bathroom to run the bath, knowing he’ll go to his bedroom to grab some clean clothes and a towel so I barely bat an eyelid when I hear him moving around while I turn the faucet on and get the temperature just right. Matt uses echolocation of sorts to sense his surrounding, listening intently as to how sounds bounce off objects and from that he’s able to paint a pretty accurate picture every time. He’s more than capable of sorting himself out due to this but I like doing this for him, being able to show him how much he means to me with my actions and I know he doesn’t mind it either.
As the bath fills I can hear Matt making his way towards the bathroom so I put some of those sweetly scented bath salts into the water, watching them sparkle and shimmer before disappearing and giving the bathroom a faintly cherry smell. Fuck it smells so good, cherry being one of my favourite scents. I’m turning the taps off when the bathroom door creaks and Matt is hovering there, a change of clothes and towel in his hands and he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers, making my mouth dry at the sight of him. His toned muscles and defined abs are on full display, thick thighs making me swallow hard before I’m clearing my throat and composing myself because what the fuck am I doing? A flush spreads across my cheeks as I force myself to look away, not helping when I steal another quick glance as he is so goddamn attractive and seeing him practically naked does things to my body that I can’t ignore.
I’m clearing my throat again, moving aside so he can enter the bathroom as I say, “It’s ready for you,” My voice coming out a little breathless and there’s a shit eating grin on those pretty lips, “I’ll just uh… I’ll be in the kitchen.” I’m nodding more to myself that him before I quickly turn and speed walk out of the bathroom, back to the kitchen where I put the kettle on needing a coffee. The bathroom door is sliding closed behind me and I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to catch my breath. Seeing Matt practically naked always leaves me feeling a little flustered and it’s harder to hide my feeling for him, as if he’s being affectionate and all those accidental touches weren’t so accidental. No, of course I’m just overthinking and overanalysing all of this, my heart seeing what my heart wants.
The sound of the kettle bubbling interrupts my thoughts and I prepare myself a mug of coffee, adding two sugars and a splash of milk plus a little caramel sauce that Matt keeps here for me. As I take a sip I can feel the warmth spreading through me, calming my nerves and clearing my mind. The time flashing on the clock has me groaning as it’s almost five am and the sun is starting to rise and I should be in bed but making sure Matt’s not dead is more important. I can’t sleep until I’m sure he’s safe, hence why I let myself into his apartment and fell asleep on his couch. His couch is looking rather comfy again as sleepiness clouds my mind a little.
As I walk to the sofa I can hear the faint sound of water splashing and Matt humming to himself, drawing a smile from me as I know he’s relaxing after a long night of being the hero Hells Kitchen didn’t’t know it needed. I settle on the couch and grab my book, trying to distract myself and pass the time until Matt’s done. But, of course, my mind keeps wandering back to Matt and how he is so special to me. I can’t help but think about how much I care about him, how much he means to me and how much it hurts to see him come back battered and bruised. I don’t think he feels the same way so I keep it all to myself, wondering what it would be like to be with him, holding him close and kiss him.
I’m vaguely aware of the book slipping from my hands and my head falling back to the arm of the chair as my eyes are slipping shut, the thought of Matt being mine on my mind. The sound of the bathroom door waking me suddenly and Matt’s silhouette appears in the doorway, hair damp and skin glistening in the morning light. He looks undoubtably ethereal, rather quite the opposite of his vigilant persona. He’s smiling at me still on the couch, book on the floor now and I’m letting my head fall back on the couch, watching as he runs a hand through his damn hair, leaving it sticking up in odd directions as he speaks, “Hey,” His voice soft as he makes his way over to me, “That was exactly what I needed.” He leans down and places a kiss to my forehead, causing my heart to try take up skipping as a hobby, “And now what I need is you in bed with me so we can get some sleep before Foggy or Karen comes yelling in about…” He pretends to look at a watch on his wrist as if he would be able to see one if he wasn’t blind, “Four hours.”
Before I can make any response he’s leaning down again and scooping me up, throwing me over his shoulder with a shriek from me. As he carries me to his bedroom I can feel the strength of the his muscles beneath my body, his back and shoulders are broad and defined and I can feel the firmness of his biceps as he effortlessly carries me. It’s no surprise that he’s able to move with such ease, even as a blind man. He’s trained to navigate the world using other senses, his body honed for strength and agility. He’s throwing me don into the soft mattress, a laugh rumbling his chest when I let out a yelp.
His bedroom is simple yet elegant, with dark wooden furniture and navy blue bedding, the walls are a light grey with a few pieces of artwork hanging here and there. They’re my favourite shade of grey, Matt having made me pick the exact shade of grey as if he knew I’d be here a lot. The smug bastard. The bed is large and inviting with plush pillows and a soft comforter that looks like it would be prefect place to spend the rest of the day so I’m shimmying out of my sweatpants and before I can reach under my shirt to undo my bra nimble fingers are there, breath warm against my neck, sending shivers and goosebumps after the brush of his fingers. His touch is gentle yet confident, moving away too soon so I can slip my bra off under my shirt before laying back in the soft bed.
Matt is joining me, the bed dipping behind me and I can’t not wonder if this is what other best friends do. Do they share beds? Do they cuddle like Matt is doing now, calloused hands finding my hips and pulling me back into his chest. He settles, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, sends waves of comfort and security over me. His breath tickles the back of my neck as he whispers, “What’s on your mind? You’ve been deep in thought since I got back.”
“Just thinking about life, ya know?” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, “The usual stuff really.”
Matt’s grip on my hips tightens slight and I feel him press a soft kiss to the back of my neck, “Hmmm, what about life?” He has to be teasing me, there’s a small smile as his lips are pressed against my shoulder as he raises himself on one elbow to look in my general direction. I take a deep breath, unsure if I should share my thoughts with him, even if he has always been my confidante and safe space.
“I… I don’t know Matty,” I say, voice barely above a whisper, “"Sometimes I just feel like I'm stuck. Like I'm not really living, just going through the motions. Do you ever feel like that?”
His hand moves from my hip, tracing soothing circles over my stomach and it’s a little ticklish and he knows it with the smile pressed into my shoulder before he replies, “Yeah, I know what you mean,” His voice is just as quiet as mine, “But you know what they say, life is what you make it. Maybe we just need to shake things up a bit, try something new.” Try something new… I turn my head to look up at him, his face only inches from mine and the way the light from the bedside lamp is hitting his face… I’m shaking my head, trying to clear my not so best friend thoughts about Matt as he doesn’t feel the same for me. No way he does, but he’s moving closer, voice low and rough, “I could try something new with you.”
I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest as Matt’s words sink in. Did he actually say that? My mind racing with a hundred thoughts and questions but I can’t seem to form a coherent sentence as much as I try so I’m being stupid and turning my head away from him, trying to hide the blush that’s spreading across my cheeks. He seems to sense my hesitation and pulls back slightly, hand still resting on my stomach, “Hey lovely, it’s okay,” He speaks softly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
With that he’s going to move away but I’m reaching up, fingers finding the stray tufts of his very fluffy hair at the nape of his neck as I roll onto my back so he’s hovering over me. My hand moving to his face, fingers gently tracing over his features and he lets me. I take int he strong lines of his jaw, the slight stubble that has started to grow and the way his cheekbones seem to be carved from marble. His nose is straight and prominent, giving him a rugged and masculine look and his eyebrows are thick and wee defined. But it’s his eyes that I always get lost in, a mixture of cognac and chocolate that seems to change depending on his mood but they’re always so warm and inviting when he’s facing me. Then there are his lips, full and soft looking with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners as he kisses the pads of my fingers when they trail over them.
This small action breaks my resolve and I’m suddenly grabbing his jaw, surging up to slam my lips into a kiss that pours all the pent up emotions I’ve been feeling for him. Matt’s surprised gasp turns into a groan as he responds eagerly, arms wrapping around me and pulling me closer. The warmth of his body envelops me, making me feel safe and loved, and I can't help but deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangle together in a dance that feels familiar and new at the same time, and I realise that this is what I've been wanting all along.
We’re finally breaking apart, panting and I can see the same desire on his face as he drags his bottom lip through his teeth, “Y/N,” He’s murmuring, voice rough with emotions, “I have been waiting for you to do that for forever.”
“You knew?” The moment is broken as I glare at him incredulously from where I’m laying below him, sinking into the soft pillows and probably looking no way as intimidating or mad as I hoped I would sound.
Matt’s face softens and he’s moving a hand to cup my cheek, thumb rubbing gentle circles on my skin, “Of course I knew,” He replies softly, “I can hear your heartbeat remember. I just didn’t want to push you, I would have waited forever for you to be ready.” My heart swells at his words and the warmth of his hand on my cheek. All the doubts and fears that had been holding me back melt away and I’m putting pressure on the back of his neck until he gets the hint, his face breaking out into a huge smile before he’s leaning down.
My heart flutters in anticipation, lips meeting lips and it’s better than I could ever have imagined. His lips are soft and warm, moving perfectly against mine and I can taste a hint of the peppermint toothpaste but the overwhelming taste of everything Matty is intoxicating. His hands cup my cheeks as mine tangle in his fluffy hair, pulling him as close as I can. Our bodies are pressed together and I can feel the warmth and strength above me, his body fitting perfectly above mine and I can’t get enough of him. The kiss deepening, hands starting to roam and explore.
His hands move down my sides, feeling the dip of my hips before he’s gripping them and pulling me closer. I’m running my fingers over his back feeling every ripple and dip of his muscles. His skin is warm and smooth, fingers running up his spine, feeling each vertebY/N and the muscles on either side as he shivers. The sensation of skin against skin combined with the passion of the moment is electric and exhilarating. It feels like time stands still and the world around us doesn't matter anymore. We break apart for a moment, gasping for air, and our eyes meet. In that moment, I know that I want to be with him, that he's the one I've been waiting for.
Matt leans down to kiss me again, and I can feel his smile against my lips. His hands move to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and it's like we're two puzzle pieces finally fitting together perfectly. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even more. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be with him like this. The kiss continues, and I don't want it to ever end but eventually, Matt pulls away, a small smile on his face again as he moves back to my side. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze never leaving mine. "We should try and get some sleep," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. I nod, feeling a sense of contentment settle over me. As we curl up together, my head resting on his chest, I can feel his heartbeat under my ear. It's a steady, comforting rhythm, and I know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, his heart my own lullaby drifting me to sleep within the safety of his arms and a promise of a relationship.
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Marvel Masterlist
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#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock angst#matt murdock comfort#matt murdock Drabble#daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x y/n#daredevil fluff#daredevil angst#daredevil smut#Charlie cox#matthew murdock
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Make It Better┃ Matt Murdock
Summary: You've had nothing but bad experiences with men and periods, something Matt will not stand. He's determined to make it better for you, and oh, he succeeded.
Words: 3,840
CW: period stigma (dickhead men being assholes about periods), smut (nipple play, clit stimulation, praise kink, aftercare)
AN: I've been seeing quite a few period comfort fics with Matt on here, and the writers were all like "my period just started, so I wanted to write this," and like, are our cycles all aligned? Because me too bitches, and I decided to join the party ✌
Periods. Menstruation. That time of the month.
Call it what you want. There was no disguising the harsh truth once a girl got hers—that periods were plain misery.
Your old Sunday school teachers from middle school when your parents dragged you to church told all the girls how their monthly menstruations were a blessing from God, a sign of fertility and womanhood. All of the class had gazed up at the nun preaching this with expression ranging from amazement to apprehension to downright horror.
You were one of the last group, and you had found out soon enough that you were right. Despite all the praises that nun had sang to God for "blessing" the girls with their periods, there was no hiding the fact that periods were downright torture.
There you were on a Friday night in the present, thinking of that nun and her insistent voice ringing with memory in the back of your head: "Remember, girls, always thank God when your monthly menstruation begins for God has blessed you with fertility of a woman."
Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit, you thought.
And there you were, curled up in bed, cursing that nun in your head with language that could have given the aurora borealis a run for its money.
Dull throbs of agony worked its way from your lower abdomen all the way through your body, resonating to your back, to your chest, to your thighs. You were tangled up in the sheets in the fetal position, unwilling to move any more than was necessary at the moment even though such movement would be inevitable. You'd already ran through three tampons, and your period had just started this afternoon.
The first and second days were always the worst.
A miserable noise escaped your lips as you rolled over slightly onto your boyfriend's side of the bed. Speaking of which, he should be back from work soon—
The sound of the front door opening met your ears, paired with the familiar tap of a cane echoing through the living room to the open door of the bedroom.
"Sweetheart, I'm home!"
Any other day, the low timber of Matt's voice would have had you springing up from the bed or the couch or wherever you'd nestled and racing into his arms. Today, however, you simply burrowed further into the bed, groaning.
"Sweetheart?" Matt appeared at the doorway, the concerned furrow of his brows evident as he made his way to your side. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just...bad day," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in, unwilling to face the embarrassment of telling Matt what was going on. While the two of you had been dating for months now, this was the first time you'd gotten your period since you moved into Matt's apartment with him. This was an unfortunate side issue you admittedly hadn't been thought about when you agreed.
"Yeah?" The bed dipped down slightly where Matt sat down next to you. His calloused fingers were in your hair a second later, gently scratching your scalp. The heavenly feeling of his hands in your hair usually had you purring and curling against him, but all it did today was make you whine. "Tell me about it then?"
You sighed softly, shifting your position as you uncurled your legs to stretch them out. "Just everything bad in genera—Matt? You alright?"
He had gone stiff, his blank eyes darting around and his mouth set in a hard line. In a second, his hands were around your waist, hauling you up from the bed and dragging your form towards him.
A disgruntled huff flew from your lips at the sudden movement. You wound up in Matt's lap, which was something you usually wouldn't protest against, but the situation in your bitch of a uterus sent a fresh wave of pain stabbing in your abdomen. "Matt!" you complained. "What's going on?"
"Where is it?" Matt demanded, his ever gentle hands roaming up and down your waist and skimming across the sides of your thighs as if looking for something. "Who did it to you?"
"Did what?" you asked in confusion.
"I can smell it," he growled, teeth slightly bared as he hunted for the perceived threat. "Who hurt you?"
"N-no one hurt me," you said, utterly bewildered, watching him search for any sign of injury along your body even though there was none. Perhaps this was just a clever ploy to feel you up. You reached up to tap the side of his cheek. "I think your bat senses are acting up, Matt."
He softened at your touch, but his hands remained persistent, roaming across your legs. Oddly enough, his touch was centered in the general area of your hips and thighs as he skimmed for any hurt. That was only further cementing your theory of him just trying to get handsy. "I can smell your blood, sweetheart," he rumbled. "Where are you hurt? Tell me who did it to you."
You froze. "Y-you...can...smell..."
Matt's head tilted to the side. "There's blood around the area of your thighs," he murmured. "Who hurt you?"
Realization washed over you like a bucket of icy cold water. You slumped forward with a groan, pressing your palms to your forehead. Embarrassment was searing its way through your face, turning your cheeks bright red. "No, Matt, no," you sighed, grimacing as you searched for a way to explain. "I'm not hurt. No one hurt me. I'm...I'm fine."
"I can smell blood," he insisted. "You're hurt."
"I'm not hurting," you groaned, tipping your head forward to bury it in your hands, wincing when the movement only amplified your cramps.
Matt's brow furrowed as he tilted his head further towards your chest. Oh shit, you thought as you realized he was listening to your heartbeat, likely hearing the lie in your words that you weren't hurting while your cramps were mowing down every nerve in your fucking uterus.
His hand stilled on your left thigh, and he slowly rubbed a circle into your skin with his thumb. "Why won't you tell me, sweetheart?" he asked softly. "I can tell you're in pain, I can smell the endorphins. What's wrong?"
You flopped backwards onto the bed with a wince. "'M not hurt," you mumbled sullenly. "They're just cramps."
"Cramps?"
Burying your face underneath to pillow as if it would hide you from your humiliation, you grumbled, ""M on my period, Matt."
Your legs were still resting across Matt's lap, so you felt the moment he stilled at your words. You cringed beneath the pillow, waiting for one of the inevitable responses you had heard from men all the time: ew, that's disgusting, get off me, go away—
"Oh," he said softly, a faint note of what sounded like relief in his voice. That made no sense; why would he be relieved? He should be disgusted, he should be grossed out, he should be telling you to get off his bed.
The bed shifted around you, and Matt's legs slid out from underneath you. Your eyes closed in resignment, but at least him just leaving was better than him kicking you out, you decided.
Instead, an strong arm snaked around your waist, and the comforting feel of Matt's warm weight was draped across your back. He pulled you into his chest, spooning you as he wrapped his arms around your scrunched-up form. His lips ghosted across the side of your neck to press a kiss along your jawline.
"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed in your ear. "Are you alright?"
Your brain took a few seconds to adjust to the fact that Matt was still here, Matt hadn't run away, he hadn't asked you to leave, he was cuddling with you instead of treating you like some disgusting animal, he was still here—
You frowned and rolled over onto your back to look up at him. "Why aren't you running away?"
"Why would I?" Matt asked, confused. His tone, sincere as it was, only served to befuddle you even further. He really, truly saw no reason to leave you. How?
"I'm on my period," you said slowly as if his radar hearing hadn't heard it loud and clear the first time.
Matt nuzzled his face against your neck, tangling his legs with yours. "And?" he murmured sleepily.
"I thought...are you not, you know...grossed out?"
"Why would I?" he asked again, his fingers coming up to stroke the side of your face. "It's just blood, isn't it? Sweetheart, you can't possibly think that blood would scare me away? I bleed every night." His voice was tinged with amusement.
"It's different," you mumbled, turning to hide your face against his throat, pleasantly surprised when he let you. Gentle hands slid up into your hair, stroking the back of your head tenderly.
Matt hummed in disagreement. "How so? Blood's blood."
"It's..." You huffed out a sigh of frustration. "God, Matt, do I really have to explain how periods work to you?"
"I did pass high school biology, thank you very much," Matt laughed.
"Then you do know that my bitch of a uterus is currently pouring buckets of blood out my fucking vagina?"
An amused smirk lifted the corner of his lips up. "That wasn't exactly how they phrased it in school, but I guess the general idea was the same."
"How are you still here?" you demanded. "Why aren't you leaving? Or kicking me out of the bed or—or—"
A dark shadow crossed Matt's face, any trace of humor disappearing from his expression. He licked his lips slowly, and when he spoke, his words were tainted with restrained anger that you understood wasn't directed at you. "Have others done that to you before? They kicked you out of the bed?"
"Um...well, all of my exes were grossed out," you mumbled, watching the corner of Matt's lips tighten in displeasure. You had no idea why he was so angered by this new information—was that not how all men treated periods? "Some just had varying levels of reactions."
Matt curled his lip, teeth clenching and eyes burning with fiery fury. "I hope none of them ever find themselves in Hell's Kitchen," he said darkly. "Or I'll be having a talk with them at night."
You had no doubt Matt wasn't referring to a nice little innocent-blind-lawyer-here-to-help talk. Most definitely, more of a break-your-bones-as-the-devil kind of talk.
"Why?" you asked, infinitely confused. "I mean...I thought it was normal for guys to, you know...react like that."
Matt scoffed harshly. "No," he growled. "Those exes of yours are all assholes." He stroked the side of your face tenderly and dipped his head down to kiss you, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the anger thrumming below the surface in his body. You tilted your head up to return the kiss, your head still caught up on the fact that holy shit, he was still here, he hadn't run away.
"I love you," you sighed against his lips, feeling him soften against you.
"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured. Matt nuzzled against your neck, trailing kisses along your throat as he entwined his legs with yours. His arm slid firmly around your waist and pulled you into his chest, kissing your lips again.
Eyes fluttering shut, you relaxed in Matt's arms, savoring in the feel of his heavenly soft lips against yours. You were just getting comfortable, all cuddled up against him when another vicious cramp rolled across your stomach. A sharp whine at the pain falling from your lips broke the kiss as you drew your legs up to your chest with a miserable groan.
You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow. "Stupid—fucking—cramps," you hissed.
Matt rubbed your back sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I wish I could make it better." You could hear the frustration at his helplessness in this situation bleeding into his voice.
"Yeah, I wish you could too," you mumbled, pressing the heel of your palm against your closed eyes as if the darkness would minimize your pain. Alas, it did nothing except make little stars pop up behind your eyelids from how hard you dug your hands in. "It's fine, Matt. This happens every month. I'll live. I'll just...ride this out until it's done."
"I don't like it," Matt grumbled. "I don't like you being in pain.
"'You can't do anything about it," you reminded him gently, shifting in bed to look at him, hiding a grimace at the throbbing cramps the movement brought. You reached up to brush your fingers along his cheek. "It's not like you can go all Daredevil on my uterus. Which wouldn't exactly help anyways."
A thoughtful hum vibrated against your skin as Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, running his fingers along your arm. After a few moments of consideration, he said quietly, "You know...I read something the other day. About periods."
"Yeah?" You lifted a teasing eyebrow that you knew he could feel if not see. "And what exactly, Mr. Murdock, were you doing reading about periods?"
He huffed out a laugh. "Doesn't really matter," he said evasively, and your eyebrows traveled further up your forehead. "I read that oxytocin can help relieve period cramps."
"And?"
"And..." Matt nudged you over on your back, hovering his body over yours and dipping down to kiss you. "You know what releases oxytocin?"
"'M—not a—scientist—Matt," you complained as he started pecking you on the lips like a fucking bird. "I don't know—cuddling probably?"
"Mhm," he agreed, easing up on his insistent pecking and trailing his lips down to your throat. "That's one. What else?"
"You're not my 9th grade biology teacher," you huffed, grimacing through more cramps and drawing in a pained breath through clenched teeth. "What else releases oxytocin then, professor?"
Matt lifted his head from your neck, and the devilish grin he flashed you was practically dripping with sin. "Orgasms," he said with a perfectly innocent face.
You blinked. "Wha—Matt!"
Your question dissolved into a yelp when Matt yanked you towards him suddenly, bracing himself on his elbows over you, one of his hands cupping your jaw as he kissed you languidly. His insistent tongue slid into your mouth the second you opened it to him, the molten heat of him melting into you. Despite yourself, you let out a strangled moan, your own hands reaching up for him.
"Matt," you panted against his lips. "I can't—I'm sorry—not right now, I'm on my period."
"Oh sweetheart." He cradled the side of your face in one hand and slid his hand down to your thigh thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip before dipping his head down towards yours, his lips hovering an inch from yours. "You don't think that'll stop me, do you?"
"Mhm," you mumbled between his kisses. "Matt—'M bleeding—'s not gonna be pretty—"
"Well, lucky for me, that won't be a problem, will it?" Matt asked, that hungry, ridiculously hot smirk cropping up again as he dragged your lips back to his, hands gliding up across your waist. You had gone to bed in a pair of panties and an oversized shirt, and clearly, Matt was taking advantage of your lack of clothing.
Not that you were complaining in the slightest.
But the fact still stood that there was enough blood pouring out of you to fill the goddamn Nile River.
It was hard to form a coherent thought between Matt's insistent kisses and his exploring hands, and you wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to you. Normally, that was a good enough plan but not on your period. You would bleed all over Matt's silk sheets, and you didn't think Matt could handle the smell nor you the embarrassment.
"Matt," you whined as his hands got more adventurous, sliding up underneath your shirt to gently massage at your skin.
"Shh," he murmured, nipping lightly at your neck while one of his large, calloused hands found their way up to your breasts. You arched into his touch when he brushed his fingers softly over your nipples, a breathy moan escaping your lips despite yourself. "Just let me take of you, okay? Let me make it better for you, sweetheart. Let me help you. Can you do that for me, honey?"
"I—fuck," you gasped when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, your sensitive body reacting instantly to his touch. Heat coiled between your legs, and you automatically tried to squeeze them together, but Matt was still cradled between your thighs.
But he felt the way you clenched around his broad hips, a low chuckle sounding in your ear. "Sounds like you want it, sweetheart," he mused, switching to cup your other breast in his hand with a reverent murmur of your name. "Don't fight it—it's okay. Let me make it better, okay?"
"Fuck," you groaned, instinctively grinding your hips upwards into Matt's. "Yes, yes, okay. Fuck, yes, Matt."
The sinful smile he gave you made it all worth it. "Good girl," he praised softly, grin only widening when you whimpered at the name. "Let's get this off now, hmm?" he purred, tugging at your shirt.
All too eager, you practically ripped it off your body with a panting groan as Matt lowered himself down so that his body molded against yours, the almost burning heat of his mouth gliding up across your stomach to your breasts. He sucked one gently, swirling his tongue around your oversensitive nipple before switching to the other while you moaned above him. Your breathless gasps of his name only urged him on further as his fingers danced down towards the waistband of your panties, skimming across the soft skin of your hip.
"Matt," you groaned when he curled his fingers in the fabric, ready to tug them off. "I—mphm—gonna get blood on—on the sheets—"
"Don't care," he said absently, shifting down the bed to settle between your legs, already sliding your panties down your legs. "'S just blood, and they're just sheets. I want you."
Before you could even begin to comprehend just how much that one statement meant to you, Matt's fingers were diving into your folds, swiping across both blood and wetness before bringing them back up to circle your clit achingly slowly. A broken whine spilled from your mouth, the first caress of pleasure coming after days of pain and cramps like a glimpse of sun breaking through clouds.
You gasped Matt's name in both praise and plea combined, nearly writhing when he finally applied more pressure where you desperately needed against your sensitive clit. Hips bucking up into his hand, you let out a needy moan, eyes rolling back into your head while he worked his fingers in the magical way only Matthew fucking Murdock could.
"That's it, sweetheart," Matt cooed, speeding up the pace of his fingers. You could hear the absolutely sinful sound of your slick against Matt's fingers as he stroked you faster. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go, I got you."
The praise had you panting and gasping like each breath was the last one you could take. Fiery pleasure was scorching its way across you, starting at the point where Matt was touching you so well and burning across every nerve in your body like a supernova exploding into existence.
"So close, sweetheart, just let go," Matt encouraged, gliding his fingers over your swollen bud. "Come for me, sweetheart."
And then, he slid a hand up your body to roll over your nipple at the exact moment he brushed his fingers up against that spot on your clit, and that was it. You cried out, Matt's name echoing on repeat in the bedroom while molten heat rolled across your body in a tidal wave, days of pent up stress melting away as you finally gave way to pleasure. Your body trembled as you came down from your orgasm, and your head fell back against the pillows with a blissed out moan.
"Mm...Matt," you slurred, still drunk on the feel of your slowly receding pleasure.
"Yes, sweetheart?" he called, sounding oddly distant.
You peered blearily at the doorway, only now realizing that he had disappeared from the bed. Your heart sank, lazy afterglow of pleasure giving way to gripping anxiety once more. God, this was what you had been afraid of. Even Matt, as wonderful as he was, would also be grossed out by your blood all over him, something you couldn't blame him for—you probably looked like an extra for the Walking Dead down there. No wonder he had left. Your head flopped back down, an empty feeling worming its way into your chest.
But then the bed shifted again under Matt's weight, and you looked up, confused once more, to see Matt sliding back in bed with you, a warm washcloth in hand.
"What's wrong?" he asked you, his now clean hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "I heard your heart going up. What happened?"
"I..." You watched in a state of half disbelief and half awe as Matt gently wiped away the blood smeared along the insides of your thighs with no disgust, no judgement, no desire to hastily sweep away the evidence—just sweet, genuine care. On a normal day, this would warrant a thank you, a gesture of affection in return, or just anything to thank him like a normal person would.
But this wasn't a normal day, and you promptly burst into tears.
The cloth was all but abandoned on your leg as Matt moved back up to cradle you against his warm, broad chest without a word.
"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm not usually this emotional, I swear—"
"I know, sweetheart, I know," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face. "It's okay, I know."
"It's just—" you sniffled, blinking back more tears. "None of my other boyfriends did this. They all treated me like I was dirty or—or contaminated, and I thought you were leaving me, but you've been s-so good to me."
"It's the least I could do, honey," Matt assured you, tilting your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "Because I love you, and I want to help you any way I can."
"I love you so much," you mumbled against his lips, slumping against him in peace before you sat up, realizing something. "Oh God, Matt, I'm sorry, I didn't take care of you, I meant to—"
""Hey, hey, no," he soothed. "It's okay, that was about you. You needed it, don't worry about me."
"But—"
"No," he said firmly. "I'm good, sweetheart. Now, let me clean you up, and we can go to bed, alright?"
"....Okay," you agreed quietly when Matt gave you that stern look that you knew meant he wouldn't budge on this.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed like a pair of koalas, legs entwined and arms around each other. You nuzzled further into Matt's arms when he dropped a kiss into your hair.
"I love you," you murmured sleepily. "How did I get such a wonderful boyfriend?"
You felt Matt's lips turn up into a smile where they were pressed against your forehead. "Hmm, I don't know, but I'm sure your boyfriend doesn't deserve you."
"Stop it," you scolded, reaching up to cup his cheek. "If anything, I don't deserve you. You take care of me so well, Matt."
Matt smiled, his blank eyes fixed on your face as he turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist lightly. "Always, sweetheart," he vowed. "I love you."
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AN: Funny how the smutty fic is the first Matt fic I post even though I have so many swimming in my drafts. Almost like it's a sign of some sort 🤔I'm working on those req though, I promise, guys
If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤
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#matt murdock#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock angst#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fluff#daredevil#daredevil fanfic#daredevil smut#daredevil fluff#daredevil angst#marvel daredevil#matt murdock my beloved#matt murdock is the best#human disaster matt murdock#matthew murdock#i love matt murdock#daredevil show#daredevil fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfic#mcu fanfiction#mcu daredevil#netflix daredevil
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