Matt Murdock X You - Blog Posts

Lollipop🍭

matt murdock x you + a daughter, mini blurb

———

it was friday evening and matt had spent his evening channeling his anger from the whole week to punching the punch bag to its oblivion. you were just hanging out watching tv, cooking weird snacks, and playing with your 3 year old. when she got tired of playing and decided to read books on her own, is when you finally get to check up on matt.

he was covered in layers of sweat that darkens the edges of that tank top he wears which shows his large biceps. with that sight a few feet away from you, your eyes are locked in and mouth hanging open while watching him take a big gulp of water from his tumbler

"sweetheart you gotta close that mouth or a fly will go inside it" matt says with a smirk. that left you very speechless for a while until you find your voice again "i... um can i lick you like a lollipop?" your blurted out, which makes matt chuckles lightly. but unfortunately, you said that last word a bit too loud because your daughter suddenly comes into the room and said "mommy has lollipop?" which brings matt into a full laughter and leaves you with a flushed face.

"oh sorry honey i don't" you said with a bit of a pout

"then why did you say you want to lick a lollipop, mommy?"

matt laughs even harder, and this makes you smile but also stressed to try and find the best answer to give to you and matt's precious one

thinking about booping matt murdock's nose and his face just scrunched up and his eyes is now invisible bcs how wide his smile is and he just chuckles and says "did you just... boop my nose?" GODDDD I AM SO IN LOVE WITH MY OWN IMAGINATION

DUDEEE IMAGINE y/n, matt, foggy, and karen are about to go to a halloween party and they are running out of ideas on what costumes they're gonna wear then y/n suddenly smirks and says the most absurd idea ever

y/n: matt...

matt: no. i know what you're gonna say. no!

foggy: what

y/n: 😏😏 you should wear the daredevil suit

matt: absolutely not! people will know!

y/n: matt, absolutely NO ONE will know! it'll be so funny!

matt: y/n no!! it's dangerous!

karen: i like your style y/n 🤣

obviously they didn't go with the idea but it was funny

headcanon: matt's favorite movie before he lost his sight was top gun, and he was so obsessed with it that he wanted to be a pilot. but of course it changed and especially after his father's death that he wanted to be a lawyer. present day, now hanging out with foggy, karen, and you, the live musician played great balls of fire and you've never seen him this happy jamming to his childhood jam

AND I MEAN LIKE IMAGINE HIS EARS PERKED UP WHEN HE HEARD THE FIRST PIANO NOTES AND HE IMMEDIATELY JUMPED BEING SO EXCITED AND joined the singer to sing and dances with his whole heart and you're just sitting there amazed with a big smile on your face thinking this is the man you love and then he asks you to join dance with him and you said yes and soon the whole bar dances to the song and it just became the best day ever oh my god

have we, as a fandom, like collectively agree on matt's birthday? or is there already a canonical date on matt's birthday? BCS WHEN ARE WE GOING TO CELEBRATE HIS BIRTHDAY?? 😭😭😭

A birthday punishment and a birthday gift.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Summary: After your boyfriend comes back home after leaving his birthday party early to let the Devil out, you play with him in the shower.

Word count: 2017

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI. SMUT, sub!Matt, dom!reader, handjob, choking, edging, just a tiny bit of overstimulation, praise kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sunshine), spending too much time in the shower (guys c'mon save water). Afab reader but no pronouns used.

A/N: I wouldn't say this is a tall!reader fic but I wrote it as being roughly the same height as Matt. I don't think it matters that much anyway so... enjoy!

Please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed it <3

Masterlist

You were sound asleep when he came back from patrolling. As always, he made his way to the shower before getting in bed, careful not to make any sound that could wake you up.

Matt was being extra careful tonight, though. You tried to hide it but you were pissed at him for leaving his birthday party early to go devil around the Kitchen. And he understood, you were right to be angry and he'd try to make it up to you later when you woke up.

The sound of the shower ended up rousing you from your sleep. Normally, you would've gone back to sleep, knowing your boyfriend was back, but you had other plans tonight.

You had been a bit angry initially when you got home from the party and he went to put on the suit instead of spending the night with you, but at the same time, what were you expecting? You knew who you were dating and you ultimately couldn't be mad at him.

You stripped from your pajamas and made your way to the bathroom. Technically, it wasn't his birthday anymore and you knew he'd be tired, but you still wanted to do something for him.

Matt had his back to you, facing the wall as he scrubbed his hair clean. You stepped inside, your arms wrapping around his body from behind as you buried your face on the crook of his neck, leaving a kiss there.

"Sorry for waking you up." Matt said, placing his hand on top of yours on his chest.

"It's fine… We have unfinished business anyway." You nuzzled him below his ear, hugging him tighter and pressing your front against his broad back, your hands starting to roam across his torso.

Matt shuddered, leaning instinctively into your touch. He always craved your touch, especially now when he thought you would still be mad at him.

"I'm sorry for goi-" He started to apologize, intending to turn around, but you shushed him and kept him in place, your nails dragging down his sides to the tops of his thighs, making his breath hitch.

"Be a good boy and let me do what I want." You said against his skin, gently sucking on it but being careful enough to not leave a mark.

Matt let out an almost inaudible "Fuck", tilting his head to give you more space on his neck, feeling the rush of blood to his already hardening cock.

You smirked at his response before resuming your kisses, moving to his back. You kissed and gently bit his shoulders, your hands moving to his chest to rub his nipples before going down his abdomen, grazing his skin while your lips kissed down his spine until you kneel behind him.

Matt kept himself still by pressing his hands against the tiles, letting his head drop as his breath quickened.

"Please…" He breathed out. Your hands were now exploring the inside of his thighs. He was painfully hard and you had touch him everywhere except where he needed it the most, the feeling on his sensitive skin almost maddening.

"I know, baby, you just gotta be patient…" Your hands now leaving his front to grope his ass, playfully biting on one of his butt cheeks and making Matt huff, before getting back up.

You kissed your way up his spine again before resting your head on his shoulder, one of your hands moving down the trail of hair on his abdomen and finally wrapping around his cock, slowly starting to move up and down his length.

Matt's head tilted back as a moan went past his lips, the stream of water now hitting his chest, his mouth slacking when your hand focused on his tip, the precum coating your hand.

You nipped at his ear and suckled on his earlobe as you picked up the pace, pumping him both faster and harder, the nails of your other hand digging on his hip where you kept him from moving.

Matt's moans got louder and his hips tried to sloppily thrust against your hand. Even with the water and steam saturating the air and muffling his senses, he could smell your arousal, feel your hard nipples and the strong beat of your heart on his back making his go even faster.

You felt him tense up when your other hand went to fondle with his balls, making you smirk, the hand on his dick keeping a steady pace.

"I'm gonna-Fuck, sweetheart I'm gonna cum." Matt struggled to say in between breaths.

That was your cue to stop, making him whimper at the loss of contact when he thrusted into nothing.

"Sorry baby, you can't come now. I'm not done yet." You told him, kissing below his ear, his neck and shoulder as your hands rub his hips trying to soothe him.

"Is… is this my punishment for going out tonight?" Matt asked as he panted, his hands dropping to his sides as he came down from the edge.

"Mhmm…" You hummed, trailing kisses from one shoulder to the other to give it some attention.

"I guess I deserve it." He huffed a chuckle.

One of your hands traveled across his body to grab his jaw, making him turn his head so you could see his flushed beautiful face.

"Open." You ordered him, your index and middle finger brushing against his rosy lips, waiting for him to let them in.

Matt obeyed without hesitation, humming at the taste of your fingers as they slid over his tongue.

"That's it, baby. You look so beautiful like that." You praised on his ear, the encouragement making him thrust into the air again, needing to feel some friction again as he sucked on your fingers. "So needy." You cooed, leaving a kiss on his jaw as your other hand went to wrap his painfully hard cock, starting to jerk him off again.

You kept fucking Matt's mouth with your fingers as you allowed him to fuck himself with your fist, his hands holding onto your arms. You didn't have to tell him, he knew he couldn't touch you when he was at your mercy.

You felt his hips falter, his body tensing up again, so you quickly took your fingers from his mouth with a wet popping sound. His lips searched for them for a second but they were gone, your hand grabbing the column of his neck, keeping him firmly in place without choking him, the hand on his dick slowing down and stopping right before he could come.

Matt whined and turned his head towards your face. "Please, sunshine, I can't take it." He pleaded, the hot air of his panting hitting your face.

"Oh but you can, my love. I know you can take it." You nuzzled his nose, your lips hovering his but not touching.

Matt tried to kiss you but you moved away, making him whine again when you kissed his stubbled cheek instead. He almost cried in that moment, not being able to kiss you being arguably worse than not being allowed to cum. "God, please, Y/n…"

You decided it was enough punishment for today and sighed. "Okay, okay… I'll let you come next time. You know I love it when you beg for me." You said, your thumb lovingly caressing his throat.

You reached your free hand between your bodies to cover your fingers with the slick pooled between your folds before taking his throbbing, weeping cock on your hand once again, knowing you'd get a reaction from your boyfriend with heightened senses.

And you were right, Matt had been smelling the sweet, tangy scent of your arousal this whole time, but having it coat his cock and mix with his own fluids made his eyes roll back, his mouth going slack again as he breathed through it to get a better taste of you.

You moved your fist up and down his length, slow and hard at first, then picking up the pace as he got worked up again.

He was a moaning, panting mess in your arms, rutting into your tight fist almost desperately.

He wasn't going to last much longer, so you decided to finally squeeze the sides of his neck, just enough to make him dizzy.

"C'mon, come for me, I know you want to…" You mumbled against his shoulder, looking down so you wouldn't miss it and kissing whatever skin was available as you encouraged him.

The throbbing in his ears and the light-headed feeling was just what he needed to tip him over the edge, Matt's hips erratically moving as his cum covered your hand.

You squeezed him tighter, slowly milking him until the last drop. "Mmm… that's it, my love. You did so well…" You praised releasing your grip on his neck and soothing his throat, peppering kisses along his jaw.

Thinking he was done, you went to pull your cum-coated hand away, but Matt quickly grabbed you by the wrist to keep it in place, rubbing his oversensitive dick against your hand.

"More, please…" He breathed out in a whine, testing the waters by holding your hand in his, making you make a fist around his cock to keep thrusting.

"Okay, just 'cause it's your birthday." You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder and your free arm wrapped around his waist to rest there with his. "Let me see how you fuck yourself with my fist."

The friction is so addictively painful, making Matt want more and more of it even if he had already cum.

It didn't take a lot more thrusts for another orgasm to wash over him, making him tremble and hiss at the pain, his knees almost giving up as a few more drops of cum came out of his spent cock.

You gave him a last, gentle pump that made him shake, slacking against your body as his threatened to give up.

You shushed him, holding him tightly and rubbing your hand on his abdomen to calm him down.

Matt took a moment to even his breath out before turning to face you, his nose nuzzling yours. "Are you gonna let me kiss you now?"

"Yeah, c'mere…" You raised a hand to the back of his neck to pull him in, your lips finally connecting with his in a slow, tender kiss, Matt's arms wrapping around your waist to hold you tight against him.

Without breaking the kiss, he placed both of you under the stream of water, his hands leaving your waist to gently grab your face, intending to break the kiss to say something, but ultimately being unable to do it, indulging in the feeling of your soft lips brushing against his for a bit more.

"Let me do something for you too…"

"I think we've wasted enough water, Matt." You chuckled and reached to stop the running water, now that it had already washed away the remnants of Matt's orgasm of your skin.

"In bed, then." He insisted, nuzzling your nose again as his hands left your face to trail down your body.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the bruise on your ribs, Devil." It wasn't that you didn't want him to fuck you. In fact, that's all you had been wanting all night long. But he was hurt, and you knew he would not care if he made his injuries worse if that meant he satisfied you.

Matt sighed, rubbing your hip before smirking at you, leaning in. "I'll tell you what, we can go to sleep now or we can go to bed and you sit on my face. I don't have to move anything but my mouth." He said in a low, suggesting tone, the grip on your hip tightening at the thought of tasting you.

You bit your lower lip, your neglected pussy clench around nothing at his words. "Fuck, Matt… I can't argue with that."

Matt's smirk grew into a satisfied smile before kissing your lips again, more passionately this time. "Let's get out of here then, can't wait to taste my birthday gift."

I LOVE THIS SO SO SO MUCHHHH AAAAA

She said, "What's on your mind?"// I said, "Your skin"

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, Established relationship, Mirror stuff, like pussy worship if you squint

Author’s Note: I just think we should all be more comfortable looking at ourselves and getting to know our bodies and I like to image Matt would want that too. I really need to wash my hair but I also just ate so I wrote this while I waited for my stomach to settle

Post-orgasm Matt was clingy and soft but he claimed that was only for you. After a round of morning sex, you and him were on top of the covers. You were leaning against the headboard. His head was on your mound with his right ear pressed against your crotch while you played with his hair. You weren’t sure if he was listening to his cum moving around in your uterus or the pulse that was still throbbing in your loins.

There was a mirror parallel to where you and Matt were laying, giving the perfect view of your post-orgasmic state. Even though you knew he wasn’t, the way Matt’s head was resting it was almost like he was looking directly at your body in the mirror. “Tell me what you look like”

You rolled your eyes. “Matt you know what I look like.” You went on to give a very utilitarian description of the colour of your hair, your eyes, your height, your body type all the standard stuff that would show up if you got roped into more of Matt’s shenanigans and ended up as a fugitive on Unsolved Mysteries.

“That’s not what I mean.” Matt hooks his hands underneath the flesh of your thighs and spreads your legs as far as they would go, having your plush, dewy folds completely exposed in the reflection of the mirror. You had never really seen yourself like this.

“Every time I think I’ve got your body mapped and figured out there’s always something new that I find that takes my breath away.” You smiled thinking about the other night when Matt shifted the angle of his thrust. He found a new spot inside of you that made his breath hitch and you moan so pretty around his cock.

Matt’s fingers parted your labia using two fingers to hold the puffy lips apart to expose your glistening flesh. “So tell me, gorgeous, what do you look like?”

Part 2

Warmth of You (Matt Murdock x GN! Reader)

Summary: You're cold, and Matt is warm. That's it.

Warnings: Pure tooth rotting fluff.

Author's note: My house being cold AF this morning and my bestie @what-the-hell from the Horny Hive inspired this lil drabble 😘

New York winters were something you were going to have to get used to. This particular night it was positively frigid, and no amount of blankets, socks, and flannel pajamas could save you from the bitter cold. Your boyfriend Matt was fast asleep next to you, but you were wide awake and shivering.

You felt the bed shift, and then a warm hand on your arm. Matt slowly rolled you over so that you were facing him. Little did you know, he could feel you shivering.

"Sweetheart, c'mere." He whispered as he hugged you to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Matt. It's just so cold. I'm not used to this."

"Shhhhhh. It's alright. You should have told me you were cold." He said before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I thought you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're never, ever disturbing me, sweetheart. I'll always keep you warm."

He caressed your cheek and placed a soft kiss there. You snuggled into his embrace and he petted your hair until you fell asleep. Once he heard your heartbeat even out, he finally fell asleep. You were warm and safe in his arms, right where you belonged.

Taglist: @rashnuhere @faery-god @matt-erialgirl

@catholicdaredevil @star-spangled-man

@sobachka-korol

This this this this this 🥰

perhaps love

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: 5 times Matt didn’t realize he was in love with you + 1 time he did.

Warning: none!

Note: this is me indulging myself in a fic after listening to one (1) song for months over and over until i’m slowly getting sick of it. enjoy!

1.

Matt followed closely behind as you happily explored the ground beyond. He tilted his head over his shoulder nervously, silently listening to Foggy trail behind him, a little too slow for his liking. For once he was extremely grateful that his enhanced hearing gave him the upper ground.

“Matt! Foggy!” you hollered. Matt winced. Okay, maybe not that much. “I’m flying!”

“Holy fuck,” Foggy cursed underneath his breath. He slowly nudged him along to move faster. Matt rolled his eyes, at last. “What the hell are you doing? Get down!”

“What are they doing?” Matt asked warily. Having either one of his friends drunk always split into two possibilities; he never knew whether he was up for a laugh or a trip to the ER.

“Climbing the fucking flagpole,” Foggy grunted. He sounded both exasperated and amused, but his step was a little too slow from the drink he had earlier.

“Jesus.”

Keeping an eye on drunk you was one thing, but coaxing you to slowly climb down the flagpole was a whole another feast. Foggy yelled at you to climb down, which only earned him a snarky remark and a waterwork on your part. Matt was unable to hold back laughter after that, silently wondering what the hell did they put in the punch bowl back at the house party.

“Just climb down, please,” Foggy said exasperatedly. “We’re too broke for a trip to the ER.”

Matt shook his head, smiling. “Do you want chicken nuggets?” he hollered at you.

That seemed to catch your attention. You sniffed loudly, spreading and contaminating the air with your salty tears. “Chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “I have a lot of chicken nuggets back at my dorm. But you have to carefully climb down, okay?”

“Okay,” you sniffed again. “Promise?”

“Promise. Be careful.”

You hummed, slowly making a tentative step to climb down from the flagpole. Foggy hovered nearby on the left, so Matt took the right side. His heart hammered his ribcage painfully, the air suddenly felt stale and stagnant as you took a painstakingly slow pace to climb down the flagpole.

Matt heard it a second too late—a slice in the air, split into the stagnant air as you lose your grip on the pole. Matt leaped without thinking, letting his cane fall to the ground to catch you before you were able to meet the same fate as his cane. He felt his heart jump out of its pants right into his throat, suffocating him.

“I told you to be careful!” he chided, suddenly angry at your clumsiness. He knew that was irrational, you probably won’t remember anything by the time the sun was out, but he was seeing red.

But that only made you laugh—no, giggling. Your hand clumsily patted his cheek. “I love your glasses.”

Matt huffed as he hoisted you up to your feet, hands shaky with how hard his heart was beating now. Foggy handed him his cane and probably gave him slight odd looks now. He prayed that he was also drunk enough to doubt this exact memory tomorrow or chalk it up to a very nice coincidence.

“I told you we’re too broke for a trip to the ER!” Foggy joined him to scold you. He shook his head. “That was terrifying and dangerous. Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, but a wide smile on your face made the whole ordeal both felt insincere and ridiculous. “Matty,” you tugged his sleeve. “Have I told you I love your glasses?”

“Yes,” Matt mumbled, patting his chest to calm his erratic heartbeat. He pressed his lips to form a tense line, perplexed that his heart hadn’t calmed down yet from the rush of adrenaline. “Let’s get you back to your dorm.”

“But I love your glasses!”

“I know.”

Matt shook his head to snap him out of his stupor. He was just surprised. He was just scared—terrified of what just happened.

2.

You rushed into his dorm without knocking. Matt had heard you approaching before you were anywhere near his door, but he still had the decency to put a faux surprise on his face. He turned around from his chair, listening to you sauntering in like you owned the place, and sat on his bed.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Hello to you too.”

You grunted at him, pressing a pillow against your face.

“Knocking is polite, you know,” he teased. He frowned when it met with silence, and his frown deepened when he felt salt in the air, and then your quiet sob muffled by his pillow filled his every wall.

“Hey, hey,” he slowly approached you, sitting on the edge of his bed. “It’s okay. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

That only made you sob harder. Matt climbed his bed into the empty spot next to you, gently placed his hand on your back in a silent question about whether you wanted to be touched or not. You lifted your head in a silent answer, slowly melting into his embrace, and sobbed against his shoulder.

Matt squeezed his eyes shut, stroking your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. He didn’t know who he did it for—to soothe you or him, distracting himself from the very sound he knew he hated the most in the whole wide world.

“I broke up,” you said hoarsely.

“What?”

“I broke up with James,” you repeated. Matt had to physically restrain himself from scowling at hearing the name he wasn’t exactly fond of. “It didn’t work. We didn’t work. No matter how hard I try we—” you inhaled sharply. “God. God I’m fucking hard to love, aren’t I?”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows. “Who said that?”

“It just… I don’t know. I spent so many times, so many things with him, you know?” you started to teared up again, voice shaky with tears. “I felt like I poured all of my soul into loving him but he didn’t even try to give the same thing. It almost felt like I was an afterthought—god, I actually felt so lonely when I’m with him, you know? Maybe I’m just too much.”

“Don’t say that. You’re never too much, not to me.”

Matt let you collapse your head into his shoulder again, absentmindedly making a circular pattern on your forearm. He couldn’t remember when was the last time that piece of shit actually made you happy instead of eliciting tears after tears. At one point he was convinced you were dating an onion.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sniffed. “God, I’m going to die alone with twenty cats! Nobody’s gonna love me besides my family,” you wailed loudly.

“We can die alone together with twenty cats if you want,” Matt said, rocking you gently back and forth. “I love you, okay? You’re not gonna die alone. Not while I’m here.”

“I want to retire to the countryside someday,” you said. “Will you join me live in the countryside, Murdock?”

Matt huffed a laugh. “As you said, I’m a city boy through and through. But I’ll visit you every weekend.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“That’s more than enough.”

Matt grabbed your hand and squeezed it. The tears hadn’t dried up completely, but you were no longer actively sobbing or wailing anymore. He rested his cheek atop your head, feeling the familiar feeling of your hair tickling his skin and the smell of your shampoo invading his senses.

The door creaked open and Foggy walked in. He opened his mouth to make a dry remark about how often you stayed in their room—as he always does—only to stop when his eyes caught the sight of you.

“Who do I need to fight?” he demanded.

“No one, Fogs.”

Foggy immediately took a seat on Matt’s bed, his hand silently reaching for you. You shifted slightly on your seat, adjusting so you were comfortably sandwiched between him and Matt. “Seriously, who do I need to fight? What happened to you?”

“I broke up with James,” you said, shaking your head.

“What did he do to you? Where is that bastard now?”

“It’s not worth it, Fogs,” you firmly said. Matt imagined that you furrowed your eyebrows tensely, and he suddenly got overcome with a huge desire to press his thumb between your eyebrows to smooth them out. “Let it be.”

“Fine. But if he does something stupid after this, it’s on sight,” Foggy sighed, pressing his back against the wall. “You can do a lot better, you know? He’s a bit of an ass anyway.”

He’s a major ass, Matt silently thought.

3.

Matt banged his fist against your door frantically. His throat was raw from calling your name behind your door, repeatedly trying to get your attention. It was a wonder none of your neighbors had tried to kick him out yet, but he couldn’t find himself to care anyway. You failed to show up at work today, and after he, Foggy, and Karen were unable to reach your phone repeatedly—all directed to voicemail—he made the decisive decision to sprint to your apartment.

The only salvation and reassurance you did not magically disappear from the earth was the sound of your heartbeat from behind the door.

Your door opened at last, and he immediately knew something was amiss as you croaked, “Matt?”

“Hey,” he breathed, suddenly feeling light. The anxiety that shot up through him suddenly dissipated, like a knife being pulled out from a stab wound. “You didn’t show up at work today. You didn’t answer any of our calls—”

“Oh, shit,” you slapped your forehead. “I’m sorry, I think my phone died.”

Matt extended his hand quietly, pressing the back of his hand into your forehead. He hissed when his skin met your balmy one, a frown found a place on his lips. “You’re burning up,” he said. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Despite your initial protest, you made little to no effort swatting him away. Not that any of them would work, anyway. Matt tucked you to bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“Are you cold?” he murmured softly, gently propping your leg up into his lap to put on a sock on your cold feet. You hummed half-heartedly, already slipping back into slumber. “Have you eaten anything today?”

His question met with another half-hearted answer, but Matt still made his way into your kitchen anyway. He was not exactly a stranger there; he burned the layout of your apartment into memory just well enough. He scrambled through your fridge, thankful that you went grocery shopping a few days back.

Matt roused you awake to feed you some of his chicken soup—a recipe his father left him, a legacy, a memento of a happier and simpler day. You were annoyed for being woken up from your sleep, made sure to make a few grunts and annoyed huffs all directed to him, subtlety was never your strongest suit. But you relent anyway when Matt stayed equally as stubborn, the smell of the soup eventually wins you over.

“Go back to sleep now,” he said softly, satisfied that you were warm and fed and had swallowed some medicines. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you yawned, snuggling closer to your pillow.

Matt sighed, a small smile tugged his lips before he knew it. “Promise,” he brushed your hair gently.

“Okay,” you sighed loudly. “If I wake up and you’re not here, I’ll fight you.”

“Sure. If you can reach my neck.”

You shoved him gently as a response, too exhausted to verbally bite back from his teasing. Matt lingered until he was sure you were fast asleep before he made his way to your living room to ring Foggy.

“Matt?” you walked the length of the living room with your sock-clad feet. Matt jumped to his feet immediately, meeting you in the middle. “Matt, there’s a giant spider in my room.”

Matt gently grabbed your shoulders, slowly guiding you into his embrace in a protective stance. He tilted his head, a mindless attempt to hear better, and couldn’t find any living being aside from you and him.

Not that he ever paid any mind to bugs in the first place.

“There isn’t any spider,” he said softly. “Let’s go back to bed.”

You shook your head stubbornly, firmly gripping his sleeve. “There’s a giant spider in my room!”

Matt blinked. He wasn’t sure if he couldn’t hear bugs crawling in your walls, or if this was your fever speaking. He sighed quietly, gently tugging you back to your room and back to your bed.

You didn’t voice out any protest, but your clutch on his sleeve was getting firmer and firmer the closer you were to your room. Matt wordlessly tucked you back to bed and laid down next to you.

“Matt?” you called. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” he reassured you. “It’s okay, go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

“Fight the spider for me.”

Matt chuckled. “Always.”

Matt shut his eyes, the sound of your steady heartbeat slowly lulled him to sleep. He found himself silently wishing and praying to be able to stay here, protect you from countless giant spiders, for as long as he could.

4.

“Do you ever think about taking a fanny pack with you?”

Matt blinked. He slowly put down his fork, ingesting your question and dissecting it one by one until it made sense inside his brain. “A fanny pack?”

You hummed, completely ignoring his bewildered expression that he was sure painted as clear as the day on his face, or completely oblivious. Which was unlikely.

“I don’t think your funky suit has any pockets,” you said thoughtfully. Matt would find the whole thing funny that you were sincere and serious with your question if he wasn’t so surprised. “But of course, you ought to put horns on your helmet. Couldn’t say no to living up to your reputation.”

Matt huffed, a laugh escaped him before he could register it—more bewilderment than mirth. He had come clean to you about who he was a few days back. It only felt right after Foggy had found out, and leaving you in the dark, no matter how much the thought of you finding out and meddling in both of his lives terrified him to death, felt incredibly wrong.

You took the news with stride—if a prolonged silence could count as one. But Matt knew you enough to know that the truth had been slowly seeping into simmering water for a while. It was a matter of time before the kettle whistled, and he dreaded the day it happened.

“Why would I need a fanny pack?”

“So you can bring a water bottle with you. Some granola bars to snack,” your voice sounded far away. He hated it. “Dehydration is a serious thing, Matt.”

Matt pursed his lips, caught in between amusement and wariness. “You think about this a lot, don’t you?”

“Can’t get it out of my head.”

Matt toyed with his ramen quietly, the only sound that settled between you and him comfortably was the wind blowing from the rooftop. The kettle was coming into a whistle anytime now.

“I’ll be fine, I swear,” Matt said. “Don’t you worry about me.”

You threw your hands in the air. “That’s not the point Matt!” you yelled, voice cracking with upcoming tears. “What if—what if you hadn’t had time to eat some dinner before you go? What if you’re hungry during your patrol and couldn’t find anything to eat? What if you’re thirsty after leaping from building to building and fighting, I don’t know, some bank robbers?” you jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “No human can go longer than three days without water!”

Matt stayed silent, patiently listening to your rambling about the importance of proper hydration. He felt a smile slowly forming on his face despite himself, despite the tears that slowly ran down your face, and despite the fact that you were yelling at his face. The words of your ramble—slipped with fret and scolding here and there—made his heart sing, flutter with the wind.

He still had the decency not to chuckle and tried to take your words into his heart and put it in the highest consideration. The whole fanny pack idea was an instant no, but he ought to figure out how to stay properly hydrated from now on.

“Are you done?” Matt asked gently with a smile.

You must have thrown him the nastiest look you could muster. “Yes,” you said sulkily. He just knew there was a prominent pout appearing. “Don’t laugh! I’m serious!”

“I know, I know,” he coughed to masked a laughter slowly bubbling up. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried. But I can’t bring a fanny pack with me, stealth is my key and a fanny pack would defeat the whole purpose.”

“You still need to eat,” you sounded dejected, and it took everything inside him not to scoop you up to brush away all the sadness. “And most importantly to drink water regularly.”

Instead, he settled by grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently. “I promise to always eat some dinner before I go and drink plenty of water before and after patrol. How’s that sound?”

“You still need to drink after fighting too.”

“I’ll find a way. You know I’ll always find a way.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Matt squeezed your hand again. He slowly crossed his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart.”

And later that night, when he found a piece of granola bar right underneath his suit, he knew that perhaps your worry wouldn’t completely melt away—not even with the most sincere promise. Matt found himself smiling widely that his cheeks started to hurt, over a granola bar and no less, feeling his heart painfully blossoming a feeling he still yet to find the name.

But he knew, deep down, his heart was singing your name.

5.

Matt listened to the sound of your footsteps roaming around his kitchen. He stood silently, hovering on the furthest corner of his kitchen counter, waiting for his tea to steep into perfection. You had come knocking on his door first thing in the morning—he was sure the sun was barely out yet, he barely had a wink of sleep himself.

It was his birthday today. He barely even remembered his own birthday, long after he lost his father, the idea of celebrating had never been appealing. But here you were, roaming in his kitchen, rummaging through his fridge like you were the one who spent all the money that goes to all the stuff inside, chopping and staining his kitchen counter as if you owned it. You were determined to pull a birthday celebration for him, even though it only consisted of a small lunch get-together with Karen and Foggy.

Matt couldn’t find himself to mind.

He liked it even.

Little words had been exchanged between you and him. Matt had learned long ago that you have a distaste for talking when you were cooking and insisting on doing so only means inviting his own demise. The sound of your footsteps, the mumble of commentary about certain ingredients underneath your breath, and most of all your steady heartbeat were more than enough.

“Matt,” you called for him, breaking his train of thought. It was hard to get Matt startled, but again, he didn’t expect you’d start a conversation mid-cooking. “Matt!” you tried again.

“What?”

“I’m going to turn on the blender,” you said. The sound of the lid closing followed after. “You might want to put on your headphones.”

Matt pursed his lips. You had given him a noise-canceling headphone as a gift for Christmas a year ago. He didn’t hate it necessarily, on days when it was rough and everything was too loud it helped tremendously, but having himself relied on his hearing for years only to have it numbed out felt extremely jarring.

Not to mention it brought back certain memories he didn’t want to think about.

“Should I?” he asked, pulling his tea bag out of his cup. “I think I can manage.”

“It’s loud. You took a lot of beating last night, I don’t want to give you a headache.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Matt shook his head.

“But—”

“If it hurts my ear I’ll put it on, okay?”

“You tell me if it gives you a headache.”

“Okay,” Matt smiled. Always so stubborn, you are. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” you relented. You rarely dispute his claims when it comes to certain things, this included, and Matt was more than grateful. “Maybe don’t stay in the kitchen with me while I turn this thing on.”

Matt squeezed your shoulders as he walked past. A lot of words slowly pushed out of his mouth, a jumble of incoherent sentences bouncing inside his head yet nothing meaningful he could grasp. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he ended up settling with only, “Thanks for the heads up.”

+1

“Put this thing on when you go out,” you said as you draped something around his neck—scarf?—and patted his shoulder proudly. Matt practically could feel pride and happiness radiating off you from this close proximity, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s this?”

“Scarf,” you said, confirming his suspicion. You gently nudged him up to move within the queue for the new bakery that had just opened near your place. Matt had volunteered to come with you after Foggy and Karen both refused your request, not particularly fond of the long line.

He was grateful for the long line, though. Winter had started to give a little taste of its presence lately, the temperature had been dropping steadily this past week. The cold weather outside made this warm bakery a lot more hospitable, but Matt already dreaded the walk back from here.

“Is this an early Christmas gift?” Matt asked, running his hand through the soft fabric of the scarf. The smell of your perfume lingered on every inch of the fabric.

You hummed. “I planned to give it to you on Christmas, but I finished it early.”

“Finished?” Matt shot his eyebrows into his hairline. “You made this?”

“I did! Here, some cool stuff I did, something you won’t find anywhere else,” you eagerly grabbed his hand to trace his new scarf. You were practically vibrating with excitement. “Do you feel it?”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “Yes? What’s this?”

“I sew your name to your scarf, so if you ever happen to lose this somewhere, they can return it to you,” you said proudly, completely oblivious to the way the air knocked out of his lungs at once. “And this,” you brought his hand to trace a bump on his scarf. “I think you know this one better than I do.”

Matt gasped loudly, his fingers shakily traced the bumps you had directed him into. Matthew Murdock. You sew his name in braille on his scarf.

It felt like a punch in the gut, a sudden brute attack that made his lungs collapse all at once. Matt swayed slightly, feeling completely light at the way his stomach flipped out of nowhere. He kept tracing his name over and over, in awe at how perfectly it all assembled together.

“I love you,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, the words now spilling out of him uncontrollably. Matt took a long shaky breath, completely drowned in the sea of feelings that flooded him without warning. He didn’t think he could stop now the words were out in the air. “I love you.”

He heard you inhale sharply. “I—”

“No, listen to me,” Matt shook his head. He gently cupped your face, relieved that you didn’t pull away, and aware of how warm your cheeks had become. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I always have, I don’t know. It’s always been there, for as long as I can remember,” he sighed. “I also don’t think I can stop now.”

Matt shut his eyes. You deserved a lot better than a makeshift love declaration. He needed to pluck the stars in the sky and lay them on your palms, swam entire oceans, and conquer every single mountaintop. But even then, even if he dragged the moon to your feet and showered you with good-smelling flowers, it wouldn’t be enough to show how much he loved you.

You let out a laugh, soft and fluttering gently in the air. “You’re an ass, Murdock. Are you seriously making a love declaration to me in the middle of a line in a new bakery?”

Matt huffed a surprised laugh. “I feel like you need to know.”

“You’re right, I do,” you covered his hands with your own and gently put them away from your cheeks. You entwined your fingers with his together and melted seamlessly. “But you’re being unfair right now. Because you’re totally kissable, and I can’t kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t like sharing,” you said, swinging your hand and his together gently. “I don’t want these people to see me kissing you. I’d rather kiss you alone.”

Matt felt a wide smile blossoming now. “We can always step out of the line and go somewhere quiet.”

“No, we’re already here. I want my cake,” you punched his arm playfully. “But I’ll kiss you as soon as we’re out.”

Matt was positive he was grinning widely right now. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you tiptoed to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, I love you too, by the way.”

And just like that, he was nothing but a goo that bore his name underneath your touch.

This is absolutely riveting, I love the soulmate AU, Reader has a messed up backstory, and Daredevil is being as angsty as possible? PERFECT!!!

This is gonna be amazing, I can tell already 😍

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, a shy knock startled her. Door creaking open, a woman peeked in. She looked to be about Karen’s age, a timid but determined look on her face as she slowly rounded the slab of rotting wood.

Peeking around the office, she looked amazed at the closet-sized space, eyes opening a little wider as her lips curved into a smile. Karen couldn’t help but mirror her soft grin, finding the awed stranger endearing.

“Can I help you?” Karen’s question was posed at a low volume, but the girl jumped anyway, giving her a ‘deer in the headlights’ impression, hands clenched around the handle of her purse.

“Oh, um..sorry, yes.” The newcomer shifted from foot to foot, creeping marginally closer as she responded. Her voice was soft, full of doubt. “I, er, I’m looking for Karen Page?”

“That would be me,” Karen smiled as encouragingly as she could. “Were you looking for legal advice? Because I’m not an attorney–”

Shaking her head, the stranger continued to step forward chewing on her lip. “That’s not why I’m here. I saw your posts about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? If you have time, I had some questions?”

Karen felt herself flush, her eyes flitting down to her clasped hands as she suddenly felt very exposed. “Oh that’s not– I mean, I just wrote a few comments on some nasty blog posts, it’s nothing really. Why come see me?”

Inhaling shakily, the girl rubbed a hand over her arm, clearly trying to muster the confidence to reveal her reason for finding Karen. “I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

Happy New Year, Everyone!

This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I chose it to be about Matt Murdock 👉🏾👈🏾

Please do read it and comment on it, like it and support it. Thanks❤️

⚠️ Warnings: Some drunken abuse, a bit of beating (not mentioned), fluff, mention of alcohol, mention of kiss, new year's kiss, I guess that is it. Please let me know if I miss something.

A Momentous New Year's Eve!

It's intoxicating!

I didn't know it could feel this way until I stood at this spot. I lost the count of cups I had consumed of that inebriated drink. But it was the time of the year when people party and let themselves lose to the music, to the booze and maybe to some frivolous mistakes. Let's not talk about the mistakes because my life was already a mess. Partying with Columbia Law students as an outsider should be enough, for now, to think about anything else.

I might slightly be under the alcoholic influence, but one look at this black glasses guy made me sober in an instant. Could someone be this beautiful yet foolish at the same time? He was trying to perform tap dance. At least, that's what I could comprehend with my hazy mind while someone was trying to catch him in his miserable attempts. I didn't know that I was staring at him intensely when his friend looked at me once and said something in his ear.

Assuming that my party was over, I headed toward the door surreptitiously. Well, no one would mind anyway if I made my exit known to people. Moreover, my friend Stella, who studied at Columbia Law, could not be seen anywhere. And knowing her, she might be with her boyfriend and guessing their nature, both must be drowned in alcohol. Smiling at their childish behaviour, I looked at my watch, which stated 11:30 PM. Though not that late, but considering it was New Year's Eve, I should head home before some drunkard ruined my mood. I wore my coat and exited the door, ready to taste New York's winter air, but halted in my steps when somebody held my wrist a bit harshly.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" I couldn't comprehend whether he was a grown-up man or a college boy due to his drunk self. Besides, he was slurring.

"I saw you yesterday at the canteen with Stella. I wanna hangggg outtt with you."

"I am really sorry. I don't know you. Maybe we should talk tomorrow or the day after that. Sometimes later."

"Noooooo. I like you, and I want to kiss you. Right fucking now!!"

He wasn't leaving my wrist, and his grip was tightening with each passing second, which I was pretty sure would leave a mark.

"Listen, man, first of all, I don't know you, and second, leave my fucking hand! It HURTS!!"

I didn't know I was shouting until he winced and tried to cover his ears. He tugged my wrist and tried to kiss me.

As soon as I uttered a meek "no" the next moment, I saw him lying on the road, wincing in pain.

"The next time, when the lady says "NO" it means no, drunk or not. And I think you might have learned your lesson by now."

"Jesus, dude! I will not leave this matter here. Watch your back, Matt!"

"Sure, Brian. I can say the same to you."

"You fucking blind motherfucker!"

I might be a bit drunk, but that blind Matt guy (my apparent saviour) was throwing some awesome punches at Brian the asshole. I meant it was impossible for a blind man to do such things, but I could be imagining things too. God knows whatever was in New York's air. I was gawking at him intensely until someone cleared their throat.

"Oh, hi! I mean, I am sorry. I mean, thank you."

"Oh, it is okay. I mean, I am sorry you have to deal with that. But, you are safe. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. I am. Pretty tipsy, a bruise on my wrist, but I'm okay. Thanks to you."

"I wish I could come here sooner." He whispered this to himself because it was nearly inaudible.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"No, nothing. I know it's not my place, but are you two guys dating or what? I might be out of line, but I've never seen you before."

"Did you just say "seen me before"?"

"Ohh, I meant heard you before on the campus or lingered around here."

"Uhm, I'm not a student here, came here on a friend's invite."

"A friend? I hope you didn't mean Brian?"

"Oh, no! I never saw Brian before the mhmm incident. I am here or was here with Stella. She is studying law here." And all this while he held my bruised wrist, trying to create soothing circles.

"Stella Cunningham?"

"Yeah! Do you know her?"

"Not exactly! I know her, but her boyfriend, Winston, is kind of my friend."

"That's great, I guess."

"So, would you mind if I ask your name?"

"Yeah, I mean no, I am Y/N."

"Y/N. You have a nice name. I am Matt, by the way." My name never sounded better. I might be too drunk for my own good at that moment.

"You have a nice name too. And I think I should leave before the street filled with drunkards, mobsters and whatnot!"

"Really? I think it's rude to leave the place before giving New Year's kiss."

"WHAT?"

"Hahahaha...just pulling your leg. They have started the New Year's countdown. That's all I am saying."

Should I be kissing a complete stranger who just saved me from an asshole in the middle of the street?

"Hey, Y/N! I was just kidding. No need to think about it."

"Yeah, I know."

And then everyone's voices started reverberating in the atmosphere. All the people had started the countdown - 10 - 9 - 8 - 7 - 6 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1.

And I kissed my saviour on the cheeks because I still needed two-three bottles worth of alcohol courage to kiss him on the lips.

"Happy New Year, Matt!" I nearly whispered this.

"Happy New Year, Y/N. Can I hug you?"

"Uh, I think, yes."

"Yes? Thank you."

And I never felt better before. It was heavenly. Could hugs always feel this magical, or was it the person that makes hugs better?

"Thank you, Matt, for saving me."

He did not say anything at the moment, just tightened his hold. As if he was telling me never to worry because he would always be there for me. And I never felt that safer in my entire life. I was at peace. Perhaps he was too.

Some years later...

"Are you serious, Matt?"

"No, I am not! I was trying to talk to you since the day Stella brought you on campus with her at Winston's welcoming party."

"OH MY GOD! I did not know that. I swear!"

"Oh, I know, sweetheart, trust me."

"Oh My God, Matthew, you are such an idiot! Why didn't you talk to me? I mean, we could have met earlier. In reality, we met at that horrible New Year's Eve party. May I remind you, it was two years after Winston's party!"

"But it's worth the wait."

"You are such a lovely idiot, Mathew Murdock."

"Only for you, Mrs Murdock."

"I love you, Matty. Too much."

"I love you too, Y/N. Way more than you can imagine."

All these years, I was thinking we met on that dreadful yet magical night. As it turns out, he is a sneaky man, who slipped his way into my heart with love, adoration, trust, and everything that comes with it.

And on this New Year's Eve, we are sitting together, drinking each others' company and hoping for peace and happiness in the upcoming years, forever and always.

With that thought in mind, I kissed him with all my love because I do not need alcohol's assistance anymore, and him kissing me back, pouring all his love fervently.

And this, right here, is our peace, our happiness, our celebration of togetherness.

@digwhatudug

Daredevil

xmale!reader

summary: - (M/N) : "Matt Murdock isn't the daredevil, and I can prove that!"

Inspired by a post from pinterest

warnings :Fluff, mention of hickeys, hint of sex, matt murdock x male! reader

I'm not satisfied with this but here you go!

You were sitting alone in a cozy looking coffee, a cup of hot choclate in your hands. You were waiting for one pn your friends, they were suppose to meet you today, an hour ago, but their work seem to hold them.

You didn't mind, you were actually enjoying the normality, which had been robbed from you, the day you decided to help the vigilante of Hell's kitchen.

At that time you were new to the place, and it happened the night you moved in. You were reading your book on the sofa, when you heard something. A loud sound scaring the living out of you.

Thinking it was some thief, you reach for your gun. If you remember right, your friend who used to live here, had warned you about Hell's kitchen. He told you this place was full of criminals, all type of them.

Seeing as there was no other sound, you decided to check. You walked down the stairs. Very cautionsly, you looked left and right and to your suprise you saw a man, wearing all black passe out next to your neibhood door, and there was a small similar to rust, which meant only one thing, Blood.

You put your gun in your pocket, and slowly walked to the man who breathed heavely(You supected it was from blood lost), but soon as sat next to him your guard went up , you could heard someone scream, and you could guess from what you catch them saying, they were looking for someone. Putting two and two together you knew they were talking about this passe out man.

Without hesitation you cared him princess style, taking him inside your small appartment , and patched him up. It wasn't hard, since you used to work in the hospital, helping your mother around.

The next day, he woke you up with a punsh in the face. Which didn't ended good for him.

How dare he push you in the face after you helped him from been caugh from the bad guys, putting your life in danger.

After calming him down ,with one hand caging his hands above his head, the other holding his thight to stop him from thrashing around, while setting on his lap. You calmily explain what happened, as calm as someone can be in this situation. He didn't trust you entirely, until he listened to the beating of your heart.

You didn't let leave until he was complitly healed, which scared the living shit of his friends, but you did care , no. You had a patient in your hand, a vigilant on top of that, and you knew one thing about vigilant, is that they never give themselve propore rest.

The time he stayed in your house, you both become friend, closer than he liked to admit. Which soon turned into something beautiful, yet he didn't ask you for a date almsot a year later.

You can blame it on Matt's trust issues, and his past relationships, but you weren't like them, Matt knew that. You were an angel send from above, his angel. That loves him, and ready to stand between him and the bullet if they have to, a thing he doesn't a prove to, but still greatfull about.

_(M/N)!!

A voice cut your train of thought, and you looked up to see your friend. They were a beautifull , yet you never found yourself attracted to them.

_Do you know how many times I had been calling for you!

She huffed, making you let out a small laugh as you put your now cold cup down.

_Sorry I was lost in my mind.

_ So??

You titled your head confused.

_So?

_Did you find evidence that Matt Murdock is the daredevil.

Yes, you thought. The evidence been your eyes, and the hickeys on your body, espacially your chest. Man was he obessed with your chest.

So yes, you knew who the Daredevil was, but you aren't going to tell. You rather die with two bullets in the head, before you betrayed his trust. The trust he had fought his brain for, to finally be put in your hands.

_ I found more evidence that he was not daredevil!

You didn't let her comment, before you keep talking.

_First one, it's illegal, and I'm pretty sure as a lawyer (you insisted on the word lawyer) Matt would already knew that.

Her expression change in to a thinking one, and you had to stop a smile. Your plan was working.

_ The second reason, Murdock is a catholic ,from what I found, his a religious man, so he can't be vigilantes. It's writting in the bible.

_ Daredevil hocked up with frank Castle, and Matt Mudrock would never do that, he already in a relationship with me.

Frank Castle, you blushed as you remembered the man. Matt and you were drunk one night and in the middle of hooking up, the same night Frank Castle had crushed in "red's" house, and one lead to another. In conclusion, you fucked both of them, and you don't regret that.

_ the last reason is, the man is blind. Which will make it hard for him to move around, without any assistance. How would a blind guy fight a criminal with a freaking gun..hmm?

You raised an deyebrow, watching their expression change to disappointed as they crossed the name of your boyfriend out of their list, and you felt releive wash over you, with a little of guilty , they were putting so much efford in finding out who Daredevil was, and you wondered why?

They whispered a small thank you , before taking a step ourside. Head held down, you wanted to confort them but you knew them better than anyone else, they were going to be fine, and you right. Just a second later, they raised their head high, eyes shining bright, it was funny.

_Thank you.

A voice spoke from behind, almost making you jump of of your place. Snapping your head, you found your boyfriend smirking. Speaking of the devil.

_Matt, stop scaring me, like that.

Your hands were on your heart as an attempt to calm it down, before the said man stole one of them to give a small kiss on your palm, and you coudln't find in your heart to stay mad at him, how could you when he looked so innocent and cute like that, he was lucky you both in public, all your unholy thought would have become reality.

Matt let out an amused laugh, who would have thought, you were perv, but he still loved you.

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure. 

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen. 

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package. 

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities. 

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to. 

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you. 

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre. 

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter. 

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk. 

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm. 

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips. 

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

i’ve never made a request before so sorry if this is bad but if you could write something about matt murdock with a fake dating trope like that would be so cute, especially if there’s feelings realized during/after it :)

a/n: i swear, i tried to just keep this short and sweet like how i usually keep requests, but then the fantasy i came up with was just too fun and too much like a fucking romcom not to just let myself go ham and turn it into a full-on long fic

word count: 3778

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Leaning your weight against the bar, you waited for Josie to return with another round of beers for you and your friends, who still remained exactly where you’d left them, all clustered around the pool table further into the space. 

Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the ring so often glued to your fingers, passing the heirloom from each digit and sliding it onto the next. It had been your grandmother’s, and ever since her passing, the simple golden circle with a little jade embedded at the cusp of it, rarely stayed in your jewellery box as the act of simply glancing down at it on your finger somehow offered you a drop of comfort in moments of mundane gloom. 

As the heirloom arrived at your left ring finger and slid down over the knuckle, a familiar voice suddenly emanated like an echo after the bar’s front door had swung open. 

“Y/n?” your whole body froze up at the unexpected timbre. 

Slowly, you twisted around to discover none other than your ex, wide eyes trained on you as he clutched the hand of a leggy blonde. 

“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…” 

Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”

“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply. 

“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.” 

Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.  

“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”

Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger. 

“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.

“Wow, oh wow, that’s–…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”

“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!” 

“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter. 

“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.” 

“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”

“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.” 

“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”

But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”

“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks. 

“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”

“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.” 

“Then who is it?” 

“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”

“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”

“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”

“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…” you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape. 

Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him. 

“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…” 

You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be. 

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt. 

Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”

“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips. 

“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”

“Wow…” Foggy stared. 

“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?” 

“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off. 

“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…” 

“What is it?” Foggy chimed in. 

“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”

“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”

Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.” 

“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”

But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”

Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.” 

A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder. 

But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”

Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?” 

“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.” 

Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”

“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?” 

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”

“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways. 

“So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”

“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”

Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.

Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”

“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.” 

Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on. 

“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot. 

“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced. 

“You’re cheating.”

“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”

And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”

“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.” 

“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”

“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”

Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”  

“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.” 

“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him. 

With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it. 

Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?” 

“Hm?” 

“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”

Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.” 

“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”

“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?” 

Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”

“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.” 

“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.

“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention. 

Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”

“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”

As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp. 

“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss. 

At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried. 

Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth. 

“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture. 

“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale. 

Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?” 

“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.” 

“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness. 

“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”

A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.” 

“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.” 

Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar. 

As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.” 

And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.

“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?” 

“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...” 

“What?” you glanced over at him. 

“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly. 

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you. 

  © 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Tears + "I'd be lost without you."🐟✨

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Tuna-tober Day 11

"I'm not doing anymore Tuna-tober prompts. I'm too stressed for it." In which I am a clown 🤡 I spit this out yesterday at work in my downtime so I've no idea if it's any good. But I hope you enjoy this angst!

Prompts: Tears + "I'd be lost without you."

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 1041

The sound of yours and Matt's soft breathing was all that filled the apartment. You sat across from him as he laid on the couch. Foggy had left to get some air as you both waited for Matt to wake up. 

You eyed the stitches that crossed his body in several places and had to bring your hand up to your mouth, biting down on your fist to keep from sobbing. When Foggy had found Matt laying in his apartment, bleeding all over the floor, he had called you. When you got there, a nurse named Claire was just arriving too. She explained to you and Foggy that she had met Matt as the man in the mask and that she occasionally helped him. Grimly, she told you that he had never been this bad before. Which you knew. Foggy was angry when he realized that you knew about Matt's nightly activities and had not said anything. But you had calmly informed him that not only had you known Matt before you knew Foggy, but that you had met Matt as the man in the mask first. That had quieted him down.

When Foggy said he needed some air, you had quietly told him to go take a walk, that you would stay with Matt. Really, it had been just the excuse you were looking for. Now that you were alone, you were free to let your emotions take over. You kept your fist in your mouth to muffle the sobs that wracked your chest, staying quiet only so you didn't disturb Matt. Tears rolled down your cheeks and dripped from your chin, your hold on your emotions finally slipping. You cried like that for several minutes, until you heard Matt shift and groan quietly. Immediately your head whipped in his direction to see him blinking his eyes open.

“Matt…” you breathed softly, not wanting to startle him. His sightless eyes darted around and he slowly pulled the blanket that was on him off. 

“Where…?” He croaked, voice cracked from disuse. 

“You're home, Matty. You're safe.” You told him, keeping your voice quiet. You get up and go over to him, kneeling beside the couch. Your hands flit over him but not touching him, too scared to cause pain. Matt exhaled and seemed to calm some at your words and proximity.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You tell me. Foggy found you on the floor practically bleeding out. You're in pretty bad shape.” 

“Foggy?”

“Yeah… he knows. He's not happy. I told him to go take a walk to cool off.” Matt winced and you didn't know if it was from pain or from the knowledge that his best friend was angry with him. But you stood to go get him some painkillers just to be safe. Before you could get anywhere though, Matt's hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Where are you going?” He asked, a touch of panic in his voice. You immediately shushed him, gently running your hand over his cheek.

“I'm just going to get you some painkillers. I'll be right back.” Matt hesitated before letting you go. You walked over to his cabinets and pulled out a glass for water and the bottle of painkillers he had. You filled the glass up then walked back over to Matt. It was quiet as he took the offered meds and water. You watched as he carefully leaned up to take them then immediately laid back down. It was quiet for a few minutes before Matt sighed.

“Go ahead.” Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“You've got to be angry with me. So go ahead. Let me have it.” He looked so defeated in that moment that all you could do was cry. Your tears slipped free without your permission and you let out a wet laugh.

“Angry? Matt, you think I'm angry? I'm scared, you moron. I'd be lost without you. Absolutely lost. And yet you continue to through yourself into impossible fights. It's like you don't even care that I-”

“That you what?” Matt hitched out, bracing as if for a blow. You laughed again and shook your head. This wasn't the time for confessions and yet the words spilled from your tongue.

“That I love you. I love you, Matt. And you're determined to kill yourself.”

“I'm not. But I can't stop.”

“I'm not asking you to stop! I'm asking you to slow down, to think, to plan. I'm asking you to use that big, beautiful brain of yours to make better decisions.” Matt closed his eyes and sighed, wincing when the motion pulled at his wounds. It sobered you and had you reaching for his hand. When he didn't pull away, you took his hand in yours.

“Matt, I love you. And I just want you to be safe. You need body armor or something that protects you better than that black outfit.”

“I know.” He said. Then in a much quieter voice, one full of hope, he said, “You love me?” 

“More than I care to admit. But it doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you get better. We can talk about it later.” You told him, assuming since he hadn't said it back yet that he didn't feel the same way. But oh were you proven wrong. 

“It does matter. It matters a lot. Because I love you too. I've just been scared to admit it. But I do. I love you so much, sweetheart.” For what felt like the hundredth time that night, tears slipped from your eyes. You laughed quietly and wiped them away.

“Good. I could've lived without you loving me back but it would've been really hard.” You admitted. Matt smiled for the first time since he woke.

“Luckily that's not the case.” He said. Suddenly, he stiffened. “Foggy's coming back. Will you give us a minute?” You hesitated, not wanting to leave him when he was so vulnerable, before nodding. You kissed the back of his hand and stood.

“I'll be right outside if you need me.” You promised. He nodded grimly and let go of your hand. 

You would leave them to have their conversations but you would stay when it was over.

You would always stay.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: ANXIETY! 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

anxiety || matt murdock x reader

tuna-tober day 9

summary: inside out 2

word count: 815

warnings: BYE im finishing this half asleep at one am with 50 mg of zoloft in my system it’s not edited at all and also there is obviously anxiety mentions i might delete this in the morning okay bye 

a/n: largely based on my own experiences with anxiety so i hope i didn’t make it too specific!

this is an 18+ blog. minors dni. || masterlist

it started with your sleep schedule. 

you’d never been an early riser, staying up until the sunlight since you had learned how to read when you were six, always one to prefer the quiet and the dark to invasive sunlight and early-morning birdsong. the night had become a friend, a peaceful state in which you got to just be. you’d survived high school on four hours of sleep a night- that was how much you loved your quiet hours. 

but you weren’t in high school anymore. one four-hour night now rendered you a dysfunctioning zombie, and that was the most sleep you’d gotten in a single night this week. you’d spent your time at the office blinking a lot and picking up a fresh coffee cup every two hours. foggy had needed to take your fourth brew out of your hands, insisting he could practically hear your heartbeat, and it was about to jump out of your chest at this acceleration rate. 

you had walked home with matt, as per usual, hand in his as you “guided” him through the streets. he was good at keeping up the blind act, and you used that to zero in. you watched him tap his cane back and forth, nodded along to his stories, and threw in the occasional “yeah.” it was almost embarrassing, the way he was leading you instead, but your mind was not on the new york sidewalk with him. 

“is everything alright?” he’d asked at dinner, concern written in his sightless eyes. you’d just nodded and taken your next bite, taking your time chewing. 

“just a little anxious, is all.” 

he’d already known that. it was almost too obvious, actually, between the lack of sleep and the zoning out and the rising heart rate, but he hadn’t wanted to press. instead, he’d left for patrol with the best reassurances he could give you: that he’d be safe and back before you knew it, that he loved you and that he couldn’t wait to be back in your bed, but when he snuck out the window, the last shreds of your sanity clung to the tails of his black mask. when the devil left, the remaining demons were always harder to deal with. 

“do they hate me?” you thought. “karen and foggy. do they actually like me or do they just tolerate my presence for matt?” no, you reminded yourself, they’re my friends, they at least like me…

and the flood gates were opened. 

did they actually like you, or was it just courtesy? did you come up in conversations over beer at josies, and if you did, was it in a positive light? did they think you were incompetent? you certainly thought so- the way you still couldn’t figure out legal strategy, the way your messed up sleep patterns sometimes had you file things incorrectly. maybe you had answered a call incorrectly. wait, the phone lines had gone down a couple of days ago- maybe it was a miscommunication. they wouldn’t hold that against you, right? actually, on that note, had those been plugged in again properly? what if there was a fault in the wire? was the office on fire? no. that was ridiculous. you could check in the morning…you could call matt. he could stop by and check. of course you could, he’d be more than happy to, because he loved you.

…right?

that was the thought you couldn’t move past. the one that kept you awake, staring at your ceiling, analyzing every detail of every interaction you and matt had recently shared. he didn’t seem off, at least not in any typical matt sense, but maybe he was hiding it. how could he ever love someone who talked so much, who thought too much, who-

“sweetheart.” 

his low, gravelly voice instantly pulled you out of your stupor. 

“matty?” you asked softly. “you’re back early.” 

“couldn’t leave,” he admitted. “i’ve been outside the window. didn’t like how fast you were breathing.”

that was all he had to say. that was matt speak for “i know you need me”. you watched as he slowly changed, stripping down as casual as ever before pulling on a clean pair of boxers and jumping in bed with you. 

without a word, you snuggled up to his chest. he held you close against him, his hand cupping your skull in a protective gesture. 

“we gotta figure this out,” he said softly. “get you some meds, or a therapist, or something.” 

you nodded. you didn’t have the energy for anything else. 

with a smile and a soft kiss to your temple, he whispered to you. 

“close your eyes. let’s rest that pretty head, yeah? we’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

but his sentence was only heard by the surrounding air, filled with the sounds of your even breath. 

the best medicine for your racing heart was his.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Open your mouth" + "Let me see what that pretty mouth can do."🐟✨

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Day 6 - Kneel

Prompts: 9: “Open your mouth.” + 27: “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.” Character: Matt Murdock Reader: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 1545 Warnings: Explicit smut, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), mild hair-pulling, gentle mouth fucking, the Black Suit of Sin, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @shouldbestudying41 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

A little later than I originally planned but I hope worth the wait.

Kneel

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was somewhere in this apartment. Your only light was the billboard outside. It transformed your apartment from somewhere familiar into an forbidding landscape of crimson and shadows. Your Devil favored the shadows, only letting you catch glimpses of him as he stalked around on eerily silent feet.

It was easy to see why he had scared the piss out of people.

Not you. You found it exciting. In more ways than one. Your heart might be racing but there was also a wet heat forming between your legs.

A dark chuckle merged from the shadows behind you. “Haven’t even touched you and your body is already begging me. Are you so eager to be fucked by the Devil?”

You couldn’t deny that so you didn’t try. “Yes.”

“Naughty girl.” His breath ghosted over your ear. You shuddered. He was close enough to your back that you could feel the heat of his body.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

Not entirely. You knew he was somewhere in the apartment. You couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him moving around. But you knew he was there. Beyond the unlikeliness of him abandoning the little game you were playing without a warning, you could just feel his presence. The sensation of being observed.

Your breathing sounded inordinately loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Your Devil remained in the shadows, letting the anticipation build.

Then he appeared in front of you with a suddenness that made you gasp.

The red light bathing his body seemed to highlight every visible muscle. Of which there were many as the black suit fit your Devil like a second skin. You couldn’t help staring, greedily drinking in those broad shoulders, powerful chest, defined abs, and thick thighs. Nor did you miss the bulge tenting those pants.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. If you hadn’t already been aching for him before, you would be now.

The Devil before you was fully aware of effect he was having on you. You could see it in that smirk. The way he licked his lips before he moved close. His walk was unhurried but with an unmistakably predatory slink. Rather like a cat stalking after a mouse. Apt. As you did feel rather like prey.

But not in a bad way, you thought, pressing your thighs together in an effort to not squirm. Something that did not escape the Devil standing directly in front of you. That confident smirk spread wider. Feeling your cheeks warm, your gaze dropped to your bare feet. So close to his heavy black boots, they looked . . . dainty. Fragile.

Matt wasn’t an exceptionally large man. But something about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen made you feel almost small . . . no, that wasn’t the right word . . . maybe delicate? Yes. You felt delicate, standing before the Devil dressed in an almost sheer negligee that was - barely - long enough to cover your ass.

Delicate. And more than a little naughty. Your Devil had really hit the nail on the head with that one.

A gloved hand gripped your chin. The grip was gentle but you could feel the strength in his hand. The careful control of that strength. He tipped your head back, pulling your eyes away from your feet. Your breath caught. You had never met anyone else who could give you the feeling of intense, intimate eye contact without actually meeting your eyes. But your Devil could. In many ways, having his full attention on you felt even more intense, more intimate, than mere eye contact.

And this close, you could see the hair dusting his jaw. Not quite long enough to be called a beard but too thick to be called stubble. He hadn’t been shaving. And you hoped that this behavior continued. You couldn’t put into words why exactly the idea of your Devil with a beard was so hot. You just knew that it was.

His fingers tightened, then he was kissing you. It was not gentle. Kiss was almost too mild of a word. An explosion of passion where he all but devoured you with his lips, teeth, and tongue. A kiss that deepened when his hand slid to cup the side of your face and tipped your head back further.

You returned his kiss with just as much fire. His other arm snaked around your back and pulled you against him. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms. You wished that erection pressed against your bare thigh wasn’t trapped in his pants. You ached for him.

You whined when the Devil broke off the kissing. Even if he looked really pretty with his lips kiss-swollen. He ran his thumb across your lip. You shivered, tempting to see just how much your Devil could feel through those gloves . . .

“Such a sweet mouth,” he mused. You shuddered. His Devil voice always did things to you but this quiet, almost conversational tone? Similar to his courtroom voice but deeper and richer? That really sent the tingles straight to your cunt.

If his other careers didn’t work out, your Devil had a bright future in erotic audiobooks. Didn’t even need to be erotic. Reading the phonebook in that voice would leave anyone hot and bothered.

“Is there more that this sweet mouth can do?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well then,” he said. “Kneel. Let me see what this pretty mouth can do.”

You were quick to comply. As you sank to your knees, the Devil reached for his belt. Soon he was tugging down his pants and boxers. But only just far enough to free his cock. As far as dicks went, your Devil had a pretty one. Long, thick, and already leaking. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You gripped his cock in one hand and licked up one of the beads of pre-cum trailing down the side. The Devil hissed. Then, feeling suddenly mischievous, you stuck with licking. Short, flat swipes of your tongue up and down his cock. But you give particular attention to the head and that little sensitive spot just under it.

Hands grabbed your hair, firm but not painful, then pulled your head back to look at his face. The Devil’s snarl should have been scary. Was meant to be frightening. And it certainly was intimidating. But you also found it incredibly sexy.

Something, judging the flaring on his nostrils, that was not missed by your Devil.

“Very naughty girl,” he growled. “Teasing the Devil . . . soaking your panties . . . such a bad, bad girl.”

You moaned, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. The grip on your hair tightened. Not exactly painful, just the slightest sting.

“But I’ll have no more of your teasing, naughty girl. Open your mouth.”

You obeyed. He feed his cock into your waiting mouth. In a sharp contrast to his air of aggression, this was done slowly and carefully. Your Devil’s reckless streak was reserved entirely for himself. You? Not so much. 

Even with your Devil’s caution, it didn’t take long for you both to find a good rhythm. Your ears were filled with his grunts and moans along with the wet sounds of his cock filling your mouth again and again . . . the deep groans when you swallow around him . . . 

Your jaw is starting to get sore but you don’t care. You love it. Feeling your lips stretch over his girth . . . . the heavy weight on your tongue . . . the salty-bitter taste . . . that all you can smell is your Devil’s unique blend of leather, copper, spices, and old paper . . . .  you loved it all . . .

You could absolutely understand why your Devil couldn’t get enough of burying his face in your cunt.

You moaned around his cock, then felt his rhythm get sloppy. He was getting close. You moaned around him again. Digging your nails into his bare ass, you encouraged his cock further into your mouth. The deepest down your throat he had ever been. His hands, still tangled in your hair, pulled as he swore and came.

After one last suck that your Devil swearing again, you let his limp cock slip out of your mouth. Leaning your head against his legs, you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

As you did, you became aware of other things. Like the aching need in your neglected cunt . . .

“Take them off.”

“What?” you asked, confused by the growled command.

“Your panties. Take them off.”

That sounded like a great idea. Your panties were uncomfortably wet. Accomplishing this was a little awkward but you managed, throwing the soiled panties somewhere into the shadows. But your Devil wasn’t done making demands.

“Stand up.”

“Why?” you asked, even as you complied with this newest demand.

A dark chuckle. “Oh, naughty girl, did you think we were done?”

He herded you backwards until your back hit the wall. “Do you think I can’t smell just how soaked that pussy is for me?”

He put his hands on the wall, either side of your head. Boxing you in. His grin was fierce . . . feral. “Because I can. And I intend to drink my fill.”

As the Devil began to sink down to his knees, he added one last command. “And naughty girl? You better not hold back a single sound.”

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: SOMNOPHILIA 🐟✨

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Day 3 - Sleeping Beauty

Prompt: 1 - Somnophilia Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: Somnophilia, referenced oral sex (f and m receiving), hand-job, p in v sex, unprotected sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sleeping Beauty

It was early. Far too early to be awake on a day neither of you had anywhere to be. You really ought to go back to sleep. That would be the most sensible thing to do.

But you didn’t want to do the sensible thing.

Not with Matt sprawled across your bed, the early morning light painting his nude body in an ethereal glow. It was sight fit for a Cavaragio. One of his fallen angels. Or one of the martyrs. Something holy. Which was pretty ironic. Given that your thoughts were anything but holy.

No, your mind was on all the ways Matt could make you scream. There were so many. You were rather amazed that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint. It wasn’t lack of effort. You certainly hadn’t been quiet earlier this week when he had his face buried in your cunt. Not that you ever were. Matt had a very talented mouth. And a lot of enthusiasm for eating you out.

Not that your man was a one-trick pony. Far from it. He was equally talented with his hands and his cock. With similar level of enthusiasm. You were pretty sure that if he could, Matt would spent the rest of his life between your thighs. With his biggest dilmenia being deciding between fucking you with his tongue or his cock.

If you were being perfectly honest, that didn’t sound terrible.

But that did remind you that it had been too long since you and Matt last had sex. Probably not by someone’s standards since it had only been three days. But that was three too many as far as you were concerned. You wanted him inside you.

It was stupid early but you doubted that he would complain about being woken up for sex. You considered your options. Simply shake his shoulder until he woke up? Or ride him until pleasure pulled him out of the depths of slumber?

The second option had a lot of appeal. It was straightforward. It would turn Matt into a blissful puddle. And he had been very intrigued by the idea when you had first shared the fantasy with him. Unfortunately, turning that fantasy into a reality had proved trickier than either of you had anticipated.

You had gotten close on the last time. Very close. Maybe this time you would succeed.

Settling between his legs, you took a deep breath. Held it, then let it out slowly. If there was one thing your previous attempts had taught you, it was that this required patience. Go too fast and he’d wake up before you were ready.

Holding your breath, you placed your hands on top of his thigh. He didn’t stir. You breathed a sigh of relief. The first touch was among the most fraught, one of the moments where he was mostly likely to be startled awake. You gently massaged his thigh, marveling as you always did at the muscle laying under his skin.

He shifted, murmuring something too soft and jumbled for you to make you. For a moment, you thought you had failed. Again. But just as soon as it had started, the movement ended. When your fingers dared to brush against the more sensitive skin of his inner thigh, the skin rippled but otherwise there was no reaction.

Except his cock. It was waking up even if the rest of him wasn’t. As it had every time you had tried this. Could be the touching. Matt loved being touched, always leaning into your touch and looking a little disappointed whenever the touching stopped. Could be your arousal. You could feel how wet you were. Matt had shown himself unable to ignore such things. He might be able to restrain himself from ravishing you on the pool table at Josie’s but not from whispering all the things he wanted to do with you once you were alone in your ear.

Your cunt clenched at those memories. And had to take a moment to supress the urge to just grab his partially erect cock. As much as you wanted him inside you, that would absolutely wake Matt up. And you didn’t get that many chances to attempt this fantasy.

Your patience was rewarded. When you slipped your hand around his cock, it twitched and Matt murmured again but did not wake. Feeling more confident, you used a combination of your hands and mouth to work him into full hardness. All the while, Matt’s murmuring increased, sometimes becoming clear enough to be understand (sweetheart . . . . yes . . . please), along with his restless movements. Still in the depths of sleep but he was swimming toward the surface.

You didn’t have much time left. It was time to be bold. After making sure his cock was coated in your slick, you lined it up with your entrance and began to sink down. You couldn’t contain your moans. Even the smallest amount of him inside you felt so good . . . a feeling that only grew as you brought him deeper and deeper inside you. Until he was fully sheathed inside your cunt.

And wonder of wonders, Matt was on that gray zone between sleeping and awake. His eyes hadn’t fluttered open yet but he was aware enough that his hands were grabbing your ass. Not quite aware enough to stop the restless movements of his hips. Or the whiny moans from spilling out of his mouth.

Smiling in triumphant, you braced your hands on his chest and began to ride him.

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: ROLE REVERSAL🐟✨

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On Your Knees, Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 6k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Role Reversal

Warnings/tags: 18+; pure filthy smut, dom!Reader/sub!Devil, smidge of roughness (very slight), fingering, f!oral receiving, cocky Matt and mouthy Devil (they definitely need a warning)

Summary: You've never been one to take control in the bedroom–until tonight, when you're determined to draw out the Devil and make him submit to you.

a/n: I was unhinged the week when I wrote this, and I'll admit, it's a bit different from my usual smut. Enjoy the filth. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now you're just being cocky.”

Matt smirked at you from his place on the leather couch, sinking deeper back into the cushions as he spread his legs further apart. “I'm just being honest with you, sweetheart,” he replied, casually tossing an arm over the backrest. “You couldn't handle the Devil, and you certainly wouldn't be able to bend him to your will.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you arched a brow at Matt from across the coffee table. You could feel your frustration rising the more he kept dismissing you.

“How would you know?” you questioned. “You've never been with anyone as the Devil before, Matt. Because none of your previous flings ever knew your big secret like I do.”

“Sweetheart,” Matt began, his smirk growing wider, “you're far too soft spoken in the bedroom. Loud in other ways but–and I don't want you to take this wrong–you just…would not be able to handle that side of me. Especially not with you being the one in control.”

“You don’t know that,” you scoffed.

He shot you a pointed look, his head tilting to the side. Your jaw clenched at the sight of it.

“You’ve never been in that role before, sweetheart,” he said. “If you want to play out whatever’s in your head with me, then I’m all for it. But we’re not bringing that side of me into this. Certainly not like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded.

Matt sighed, leaning back into the leather of the couch. “It’s just not that simple. You don’t have any experience and you want to just immediately go straight to controlling the Devil? That’s…a little out of your league, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him, your spine straightening as his words only further increased your determination. Matt was clearly picking up on the subtle shifts in your body, and each one only seemed to grow that arrogant smirk on his face. A smirk you wanted to wipe from his lips with each passing second.

“What’s the harm in letting me try?” you asked, voice darkening.

The corners of Matt’s lips twitched at your tone, clearly catching your growing irritation. “The harm, sweetheart,” he began, his response already grating on your nerves, “is that if you don’t know what you’re doing, this could all go down in a way that we both regret. The Devil isn’t…he’s not just some costume I throw on. He’s–he’s a part of me. A darker part of me.”

“I know, Matt,” you told him. “I’ve been with you for almost a year. I’ve met the Devil. On many occasions and in many different moods. I know exactly who the Devil is and I've always wanted that side of you just as much as this one.”

Over on the couch, Matt expelled a long sigh. “I know we’ve been together for awhile, and yes, you’ve seen that side of me. And I love that you still love me despite that–”

“In spite of it,” you muttered. “I love all of you.”

Matt grinned at your comment before he continued, “But you still don’t have any experience in this area. And I just–just don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to ‘let the Devil out’ as you called it.”

For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt so casually sprawled out on the leather couch. He couldn’t look any more smug with the way he was practically taking up the whole piece of furniture, his lips still quirked into an arrogant smirk. As you stood there staring at him, an idea gradually began to form in your mind.

“So you won’t just let the Devil out,” you began slowly, studying him closely, “but would you be opposed to me drawing him out myself?”

Matt’s lips twisted into something like a smile before he regained his composure, almost as if he was about to laugh at the idea. A heat flamed within you at the sight, your resolve to tame the Devil only growing by the second.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked, amused. “Are you going to rob a bank to lure him out? Mug someone on the street, sweetheart?”

He chuckled at the thought, a deep rumbling sound. The noise had your hands curling into fists where they were crossed over your chest but you fought back your annoyance. You knew he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

“I asked you a question and I expect an answer,” you demanded.

Matt’s amusement quickly subsided at the seriousness in your tone, his own eyes narrowing back at you. A muscle jumped in his cheek before he spoke.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Matt replied. “If you can manage to draw the Devil out, I'll let you. You think you can handle the situation? Then by all means, you can go ahead and try.”

Arching a brow at Matt, you uncrossed your arms, sensually sliding one hand down your body to the waistband of your sleep shorts. Two fingers toyed with the edge of it, your focus on Matt. 

“You think I can't?” you challenged back. 

Matt's eyes darkened, his unseeing gaze seemingly following the path of your hand as it had traveled down your body. You had his attention now, at least.

“You think that's going to draw out the Devil?” he goaded. “You think that's enough to do it?”

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, your fingers gently running back and forth along your cunt over your panties. Your breath hitched just before you caught the slight flare of Matt's nostrils–exactly what you were looking for. 

“I think I know more than you realize,” you told him.

Matt's eyes further narrowed back at you, his arm lowering from the back of the couch as he leaned forward, his smirk gradually shrinking. You definitely had his attention now. 

“And just what do you think you know, sweetheart?” he shot back.

Squaring your shoulders, aware of the dampness that had begun to soak through your panties, your fingers continued running along yourself. “I know the scent of me makes you lose your mind,” you stated.

Matt's lip twitched at the corners, his nostrils flaring even more sharply at your words. You were right and he damn well knew it.

“And I know you can hear how wet I'm becoming right now,” you continued. “I can see how it's affecting you. You can’t hide that from me.”

“You're going to need to do a hell of a lot more than that if you want the Devil,” he countered. 

Slipping your fingers into your panties, you grinned back at Matt as you ran them between your damp folds. “Oh, I know.”

Judging by the way he was shifting on the couch, his nostrils repeatedly flaring as his hands gripped the cushions, you could tell he was inhaling the scent of you. You'd been with Matt plenty of times to know exactly what your arousal did to him, but there was one thing that had never happened before, one thing you had never done. 

Matt had never been denied a taste or a simple touch before. Until now.

“I told you earlier–I want the Devil tonight Matt,” you reminded him. “On his knees and at my feet.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, his gaze briefly flickering to the floor in front of you before it returned to where your fingers were still running back and forth delicately through your damp folds. You knew he could hear the wet sounds they were making and you knew the scent of your arousal in the air was only increasing with every pass of your fingers.

“You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” Matt warned you. 

“I know what I'm doing,” you replied.

“Do you?” he asked.

You slid your fingers towards your soaked entrance, your other hand sliding up beneath your shirt. The tips of your fingers barely grazed the underside of your breast and you saw Matt's grip tighten on the couch.

“If you want a taste,” you told him slowly, enunciating each word, “or a touch, Matt, you'll do what you're told. Otherwise you get nothing tonight. You hear me? Nothing.”

Matt’s lip curled back into a partial sneer at your words, his gaze somehow darkening even more at the thought. He clearly didn’t like the idea of you denying him the opportunity to pleasure you, let alone denying him a simple taste–something you’d already guessed he’d be exceptionally unhappy to hear. 

“You wouldn’t,” he ground out.

“You can listen to me take care of myself, I’ll let you do that,” you continued, your hand snaking its way up to tweak a nipple as Matt’s lip tugged further back into a snarl. “But when I’m done and I fall asleep in bed afterwards, I know you'll still be awake smelling the scent of me lingering all over the apartment. And while I’m contentedly dreaming, you'll be laying there in bed as the sounds I made–that you love so much–replay over and over in your mind.”

Matt sat stiff on the couch, his elbows now resting along his knees as he leaned forward towards you. His head was cocked even further to the side, his lips still drawn back into a snarl that was bordering on animalistic at your words. His control over the Devil was slipping, that much you could see already. Though it wasn’t Matt that would be your biggest fight, you knew that, but you were certainly thrilled at the sight of him like this. The challenge of bringing the Devil to his knees next was only increasing the dampness pooling between your thighs.

“Really trying to push me over the edge, aren’t you?” he gritted between his teeth.

Slipping two fingers finally into yourself, you loosed a soft sigh at the sensation. On the couch, Matt struggled to contain himself as you slowly pumped your fingers into yourself, your hand on your breast tugging at your nipple. Matt’s knuckles almost turned white as he gripped the cushions tighter.

“Give me the Devil, Matt,” you demanded. “Stop holding back already.”

Visibly teetering on the edge of entirely losing his composure, Matt’s lip began to repeatedly twitch. A deep rumble vibrated in his chest at your words and you knew he was close to losing his control. 

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he warned.

Pressing the heel of your hand against your clit, a jolt of pleasure shot through you as you sunk your fingers deeper inside. Matt lurched to the edge of the couch cushion now, his body tensed and ready to pounce. He needed a nudge, just a little one, and then you’d have him.

“Let the Devil out, Matt,” you pressed.

The look on his face in conjunction with what you were already doing to yourself had the quietest little moan slip out of your lips. And that was all it took. 

Matt’s demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes darkened to something predatory and dangerous before he launched himself off of the leather couch. An excited thrill shot through your body as he took just three brief strides to close the distance between you. And then he was standing before you, one hand darting out lightning quick before his fingers were tightly gripping you by the chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“You wanted the Devil, sweetheart?” he growled out in that familiar gravely tone. “You got him.”

“I said no touching,” you reminded him, your fingers pausing their movements as you stared back at him.

“Do you think I care about your rules?” he challenged. “Your body is begging for me right now. I can hear it.”

“No, it's not,” you disagreed, shaking your head in his hold. “And I know you'll follow my rules because I know you'd never do anything that I don’t consent to.  And right now, I didn't say you could touch me, Devil.”

Frustration and annoyance flashed in his eyes as they focused on your mouth while you spoke. His teeth noticeably ground together, his fingers still gripping your chin. You arched an eyebrow at him, knowing full well no matter the situation, Matt would never pass one of your boundaries–even as the Devil. Another moment passed before the Devil growled in aggravation, his fingers abruptly releasing you before his hand dropped back to his side. A shudder of pride burned in you as he did. He wasn’t on his knees yet, but you were positive you'd get him there.

“Fine,” he spat. “I won’t touch you. But don’t think for a second you’re the one in control here.”

With a pleased grin on your lips, you slid your two fingers out from inside of yourself before removing them from your panties. The Devil’s head snapped down towards your hand, tracking its movement as you held up the two glistening fingers in the space between you both. He was almost immobile now, completely fixated on your fingers.

“Every time we’ve been together,” you began in a hushed tone, reveling in the way he was locked on to your fingers, “you always like to call me yours. ‘My good girl,’” you repeated. “So tonight, I want you to be my good little Devil.”

“Think I’m some pet to tame?” he ground out between his teeth. “Think you can control me?”

“Oh, I know exactly how you operate,” you assured him, watching the way he was still focused on your fingers. You knew the scent of your arousal so close to his face was taking every bit of his willpower to hold back from sucking your digits into his mouth. “Those senses of yours can get overwhelmed, and you’ve never been the most patient. Doesn’t help that I can see how much the scent of me is affecting you. You want a taste don’t you, Devil?”

A low growl reverberated through his chest in response. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his gaze never wavered. Satisfied at his answer, you drew the fingers up to your mouth and slipped them inside, your tongue lapping over them instead of his. You grinned when another deep, irritated rumble vibrated in his chest. You knew you were beginning to do more than frustrate him now.

Slowly you slid the fingers back out of your mouth, enjoying the irritation evident on his face. His body was tense with his restraint, struggling to resist the urge to just tear your clothing off and have you. The thought that he knew he couldn't was incredibly exhilarating. 

“Think you can keep teasing and taunting me without any consequences?” he questioned sharply. “You're pushing me, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, I think,” you hummed out as you turned towards the bedroom, “that you're all bark and no bite. You've got absolutely nothing to use against me tonight because there's only one thing I want.”

You gradually began to make your way to the bedroom, grinning when you heard his soft footsteps following after you. He was honed in on you now, his attention fixed. You just had to outlast his stubbornness and you'd have him.

“You really think you've got the upper hand here,” he asked, voice dark and low. 

Pausing halfway to the bed, you glanced over your shoulder and saw him stop directly in the doorway. His expression was almost pained beneath his scowl.

“Well you're already following me like a dog,” you teasingly pointed out. “Leaves me to wonder what you think you could possibly tempt me with?”

The Devil's face darkened at your question, a devious smirk curling his lips upwards. “I can give you an entire evening of pleasure like you've never experienced before, sweetheart,” he promised. “Stop this little game now and I'll push your body past its limits until you can hardly feel it anymore. I can make you forget your own name for a few hours. You know I can.”

Walking the rest of the way to the bed, you felt a rush of warmth flood you at his words. You'd never slept with Matt when he was like this before, but you'd always been tempted. You were curious to know what the Devil would be like in the bedroom after all the times you'd seen him come home worked up from patrol, but despite how enticing his offer was, it still wasn’t what you wanted.

“The only thing I want,” you repeated carefully as you sat down on the end of the bed and faced him, “is you right here on your knees doing what I tell you to. And I know you can hear the truth in my words.”

You pointed at the ground in front of your feet, accentuating what you'd said. Another flash of frustration shone back at you in his eyes as his smirk entirely disappeared. His jaw tightened once more, determination to fight you still written across his face. Despite his rigid posture and the way he remained in the doorway, you noticed how he'd gone temporarily quiet. The knowledge that he had no leverage, no way to tease you and distract you, had him closer to breaking. You could feel it.

“Still need more encouragement?” you asked coyly.

Hands grabbing onto both your shorts and your underwear, you gradually pushed them down your legs before tossing them carelessly off to the side of the bed. The Devil’s hands began to clench and unclench at his sides but he didn't move from his place in the threshold. With your lower half now exposed, the unobstructed scent of your arousal was likely driving him mad. Lightly resting your hand along your stomach, the tips of your fingers just barely brushed the sensitive bundle of nerves as you settled in to give him the last few pushes over the edge.

“You have two options, Devil,” you told him, watching his nostrils sharply flaring back at you. “You can stand there and keep fighting me and I'll happily get off on my own just watching you. Or you can tell me that you'll be my good little Devil and I'll let you help me.”

A dangerous snarl tore out of his chest at your second option. The sound sent a delicious wave of arousal through your body, your skin practically humming in response. But he still didn't answer, continuing to remain silent. His lack of response had you grinning, especially when you caught the bulge now poking through his gray sweatpants.

“That your choice then?” you asked.

Fingers moving down a fraction, you began to gently draw circles over your clit. A soft, pleased sigh slipped out of your lips as you lowered back onto the bed, resting on one elbow. Eyes falling shut, you focused on pleasuring yourself, enjoying the fact that he was still standing in the doorway focused on you while you did. 

“You're not going to get off right in front of me,” he snapped.

You opened your eyes, attention returning to him by the door. He'd taken a single step into the bedroom now, that pained expression becoming further visible on his face. That one step said more than he realized.

“I'll finish without you,” you warned him with a sly grin. “Show you how little I need you.”

Back arching along the bed, you caught the second step he took towards you as a feral snarl tore through the bedroom. Your finger began to move a little quicker as you added a bit more pressure along your clit, your breath coming in sharper.

“I'm not going to make this easy for you,” he growled.

Laughing lightly, your eyes fell shut once more as a shudder raced up your spine. It was an empty threat and you both knew it.

“Not a damn thing you can do, Devil,” you told him, breath coming in quick pants as another surge of pleasure raced through you. “You're not allowed to touch. Not until you–” 

Your sentence broke off on a soft moan, the noise loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. With your eyes still closed, you could almost feel his senses raking over you, taking in the racing of your heart, the scent of your arousal, the blood rushing through your body, the flush in your cheeks. 

“Not until you agree to be my good little Devil,” you finished, eyelids fluttering back open.

He’d taken another step closer now, standing barely two feet away from you. His jaw was tensed, his teeth grinding back and forth as the muscle repeatedly jumped in his cheek. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders drawn up to his neck. You could hear his sharp breaths each time his nostrils flared now. Biting your lip, you tilted your head to the side as you once more slid your fingers through your damp folds, teasing your entrance. The sensation had your eyes almost closing, but you fought to keep them open, watching as he almost took another step closer.

“Last chance, Devil,” you told him. “Come here or I'll finish without you.”

A dark, almost guttural growl tore straight out of his chest in sheer frustration. Removing your hand from yourself, you sat up on the edge of the bed. His unseeing gaze once more snapped directly down towards your damp fingers, his tongue yet again darting out along his lips hungrily. 

“Come here, Devil,” you ordered. 

An almost imperceptible whine slipped out of his lips before he grudgingly closed the remaining distance between you both. You smiled at the sight, realizing he was on the cusp of submitting–even if reluctantly. Leaning closer towards him, you reached your hand up to his face. His sightless eyes managed to track the movement almost perfectly until you’d gripped him by the chin, your fingers intentionally near his mouth but not remotely touching it. A rough grunt fell out of him at your touch, his eyes narrowing back at you.

“You’re going to regret this later,” he warned. “I can promise you that, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that, Devil,” you murmured, still holding his chin. “But for now, you need to do what you’re told.”

His lip twitched in response, his eyes glaring darkly at you. Biting your lip, you gave a little tug downwards on his chin.

“On your knees, Devil,” you ordered.

A deep, rumbling snarl slipped out of his lips at your order and the way you’d tugged his chin, but you held your ground as you sat on the edge of the bed. Seconds passed as he stood there towering over you, a fire burning in his eyes that was a mix of desire, need, and sheer agitation. But then gradually, ever so slowly, you saw him finally and reluctantly sink down to his knees before you, his lips still curled back into a frustrated sneer. A slow, triumphant smile spread across your mouth as you continued to hold his chin firmly between your wet fingers.

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you asked.

“Enjoy this moment while you can,” he growled up at you. “Because it’s never happening again, sweetheart. I’ll have you on your knees–”

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you questioned more firmly, cutting him off mid sentence.

An irate growl rumbled in his throat. “Is it necessary to call me that?”

“Answer the question,” you ordered.

His eyes narrowed further back at you, his hands slowly coming up to rest along the bed on either side of your hips. A shudder ran through you as he gripped the mattress tight, your cunt clenching around air at the sight of him like this before you. His attention immediately snapped down to the space between your thighs, an almost choked noise getting caught in his throat.

“Yes,” he ground out.

Releasing his chin, you slowly set both of your legs over his shoulders before leaning back and resting your elbows along the bed. You stared down at him, comfortable on the bed as he sat gnawing on his bottom lip just before you, his sightless eyes staring longingly at one part of your body in particular. 

“That’s my good little Devil,” you praised.

A sharp grunt met your words and you grinned. He might’ve been irritated, but he was technically still obeying. 

“Do you want to get me off?” you asked him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to make you feel so good you can’t do anything but scream,” he snarled back. “Want to hear that pretty little mouth crying up there. Show you how much you do need me, sweetheart.”

“Watch yourself, Devil,” you warned. “You’re getting a little too feisty down there.”

“What did you expect?” he snapped. “This is the closest thing you’re going to get to what you want with me. You can’t tame me. Can’t control me.”

Your eyes narrowed at his challenge. “Yeah? Take one taste, Devil. Go on.”

With his hands gripping the bed tighter on either side of your hips, he leaned in and swiped the flat of his tongue entirely up the length of you, as if trying to taste as much of you as he could. Your eyes snapped shut the second he’d touched you, the sound of his throaty groan cutting straight through the bedroom. Opening your eyes a second later, you saw his own eyes had closed, his face contorted into a mix of pleasure and pain before he released a long, low growl.

“You want more?” you whispered down to him.

His eyes snapped open at your voice, their focus finding your chin. He blinked a few times, his expression wavering between bliss and frustration.

“Yes,” he ground out.

“You’re going to be my good little Devil then, do you understand?” you asked.

“Yes,” he grunted.

“That’s a good little Devil,” you replied. “Fingers first. Prove you can behave, then maybe I’ll let you use your mouth.”

A frustrated noise rumbled in his chest in response, but he didn’t argue back this time. Instead, one of his hands released his tight grip along the bed before he lifted it over your leg and left it hovering in front of your soaked entrance. His lips twitched again before his tongue slipped out, gliding along the length of his bottom lip. A jolt of excitement raced through you at the sight, anticipation of what was about to happen taking hold of you as you held your breath, awaiting his touch.

Two of his thick fingers finally began to slide back and forth delicately along your entrance, teasing you just a little as your arousal gathered along his fingertips. Then slowly he slid them up through your folds towards your clit with a faint groan of pleasure. With the slightest pressure, he began lightly tracing the exact patterns to immediately cause your hips to squirm along the bed. A satisfied rumble met your ears as your eyes fell shut and your breath came in faster.

His other hand released the bed, grabbing the thigh resting along his shoulder in a tight vice as he yanked you further towards him. A surprised gasp flew out of you as you slid forward on the bed, your eyes reopening at the movement. You’d been about to chastise him for what he’d just done, but the sight of the devilish grin on his lips had your mouth momentarily going dry. As much as you wanted to appear confident in this situation, you couldn’t deny that the Devil was certainly a challenge, even if he was mostly obeying you now.

After a moment, his fingers traveled back down towards your entrance, the sensitive bundle of nerves above still desperate for his attention. But instead he slipped a single digit inside of you, sinking it in as far as it could go. Your breath hitched in response, your hips raising just a fraction off of the bed. The Devil immediately pushed you back down with the hand gripping your thigh, holding you still on the mattress.

“I want more,” he growled.

His eyes darted up to you as his finger began to pump in and out of you, the wet squelch with each thrust loud even to you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your body begging to reach your climax after everything that had been leading up to this moment.

“And I can tell you do, too,” he said. “Don’t deny it.”

“Bit–bit mouthy for one who’s supposed to be behaving,” you stammered out, the continued waves of pleasure causing your mind to cloud. 

“I want a taste,” he shot back, his finger pumping a bit more roughly into you as he said it. “I’m doing what you want, sweetheart. Now give me what I want.”

Your eyelids fluttered as he stuck a second finger inside, his pace moving agonizingly slow on purpose. Struggling to focus, you tried to formulate a coherent thought, but it was difficult to do with his hot breath washing over you as he worked.

“That sounded more like a command, Devil,” you replied, trying your best to stay focused. “Try that again.”

A frustrated rumble sounded in the room, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you. Your breath was coming in shallower now, your body getting closer and closer to your climax. You knew he could tell, and you knew he’d do what you wanted before you came. Because you knew he’d want his mouth on you when you did.

His eyes closed as his head snapped to the side. A look of distaste crossed his features before he spoke. “Let me use my mouth…please.”

Your cunt tightened around his fingers when you heard the Devil actually beg you. The power you felt at that one word alone almost had you toppling over the edge, but you fisted the sheets in your hands and tried to hold on a bit longer.

“That’s–that’s my good little Devil,” you breathed out. “You ask, you don’t–don’t demand.”

The sound of his irritated growl broke on a whine this time and your eyes darted straight to him. His fingers were still sinking into you repeatedly, but it seemed as if his composure was breaking the wetter you were becoming.

“Please,” he ground out. “Let me get you there. The way I know your body is begging for it.”

Your breath hitched at his unexpected and sincere plea, but you found yourself wanting a little more. “Ask again,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice even.

“Let me taste you,” he began, his usually husky, dark tone laced with growing desperation. “Please, let me–let me take care of you how I know you need it. Please.”

Struggling to keep your orgasm from crashing into you, you nodded quickly. “Yes, use–use your mouth,” you whispered back.

The Devil didn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence before his face had lunged forward, his plush lips sucking your sensitive clit right into his mouth. The sensation had a sharp cry flying out of you, your head falling back over your shoulders. He began frantically sucking on your clit, his teeth lightly grazing it at one point. The sensation caused you to hiss in pleasure, your hips fighting against his hold on you. But as his fingers inside of you never ceased their movements, relentlessly fucking into you over and over, his other hand had slid up your thigh and over your stomach. His thick, single muscular arm was holding you firm to the mattress as he brought you even closer to the brink. 

Your body felt like it was on fire with sheer pleasure, your back fighting his hold to arch along the mattress as your eyes had begun to roll back. You were close, so incredibly close. And that’s when you caught the sound of his hungry, vexed growls against your clit turning into high-pitched whines. Struggling to keep your focus, your breath repeatedly catching in your throat as you fisted the bed sheets tighter in your holder, you glanced down at the Devil. From your angle you couldn’t see much, but it almost looked as if he was struggling from rutting against the bed. The sight had a curse slipping out of your lips at just how desperate and aroused he was himself.

“Doing–alright–down there?” you panted out.

You were growing dizzy at the sensations his tongue and his fingers were giving you, your entire body feeling like it was vibrating. The Devil only responded with something like a choked moan, the sound muffled against you as he continued to diligently and determinedly get you off. That needy, desperate sound coming from the Devil–the same one criminals feared in Hell’s Kitchen’s streets–as he fought the urge to rut against the bed just from the taste of you, from the sounds your body was making in his ears, had you immediately hitting your peak.

One hand releasing the bed sheets, you reached out and gripped his forearm so tight your nails dug into his skin. He hissed against you just as your head fell limp over your shoulders, your eyes closing as your mouth went slack. A long, low moan gradually tore out of you just as you reached your climax. You felt the Devil slip his fingers out, instead using those against your clit as he worked you through your release. His mouth had latched onto your cunt, lapping at your release like a starved man. The bedroom around you filled with his strangled moans of pleasure and the wet, hungry licks of his tongue against you. 

Body suddenly heavy, you sunk down into the mattress, your eyes blinking blankly up at the ceiling. Below you, the Devil’s movements had gradually begun to take an obvious shift. You felt soft, gentle laps at your entrance before his wet mouth was gently kissing and nuzzling at your inner thighs. Struggling to sit upright on the bed, you glanced down to see Matt’s half-lidded eyes as he continued nuzzling against your leg. Reaching a hand out, you gently began to card your fingers through his hair as you tried to catch your breath.

“Matty? You good?” you asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, planting another kiss against your skin. “Yes. You–you taste so good.”

You smiled softly down at him, your hand coming to lightly tap the arm he still had resting along your stomach. “Hey, come up here,” you whispered.

He gently kissed your thigh once more before he sluggishly rose to his feet. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the damp patch soaking the front of his sweatpants, your eyebrows rising. 

“Matty, did you…?”

Sinking into the mattress beside you, Matt wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you towards himself with a huff. He buried his face into your shoulder, his eyes closing.

“I…guess I underestimated you,” he murmured into your skin. “That was–” he paused, teeth lightly nipping your shoulder. “I like you like that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” you teased back.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

You grinned, resting your cheek against the top of his head as you tried to catch your breath. “We should probably get cleaned up, though,” you whispered.

Matt burrowed closer to your neck, releasing a soft sigh. “Mmm, in a minute, sweetheart,” he replied. “Let me just–just recover first.”

You laughed lightly, one hand gently resting along his thigh that was nestled beside your bare one. “Alright, my good little Devil,” you teased. 

Matt’s lips pulled into a smile against your shoulder at the praise, a soft, contented hum vibrating in his throat. You had a feeling that after tonight he wouldn’t fight you so much the next time you asked for the Devil.

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

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: ROLE REVERSAL🐟✨

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Tuna-tober Day 3

Here's day 3!

Prompt: Role Reversal

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Word count: 428

Matt was usually the one in charge. It worked well for the two of you. You were timid and so taking control was not something you usually did. 

But seeing him around Elektra did something to you. Maybe it was the way she pushed boundaries. Maybe it was the way Matt was spending more time with her lately. You knew it was strictly work, that Matt would never cheat on you. But that didn't stop the little seed of jealousy from growing into thick, thorny vines around your heart.

So you decided that tonight, you would take control. Provided Matt even made it home. But still you dressed in a red and black corset with matching underwear and thigh high stocking. You completed the look with a pair of black high heels and a black silk mask that covered the upper half of your face. As you slipped on the mask, you let yourself slip into a more dominant headspace. Then, you waited. 

When you heard the key turn in the lock, you nearly sighed. But instead you stood and turned to face the hallway. You heard Matt pause then take his shoes off and set his cane aside before heading down the hallway. He shuffled into view and took a deep breath. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Don't sweetheart me. It's nearly midnight. You're still in your lawyer clothes so where have you been?”

“I'm sorry, we got busy in the office and-”

“Bullshit. You were with Elektra, weren't you?” By the way he stiffened, you knew you were right.

“Sweet-”

“Get on your knees.” He froze, glasses glinting in the light of the billboard. When he didn't move, you took a step towards him.

“I said, Get. On. Your. Knees.” He didn't need to be told a third time, thankfully. The sight of him sinking to his knees was beautiful but you forced yourself to stay on track.

“For weeks now, you've been abandoning me and your friends for Elektra. I know you say it's just work but work has never made you lie to me before. I've had enough. That being said, I'm willing to let you make it up to me. Do you think you can do that, Matthew?” You purposefully called him by his full name, just like she did. Matt licked his lips and nodded slowly.

“I am sorry. I'll do anything you want, sweetheart.”

“You'll start by calling me ma'am. I'm not your sweetheart tonight.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good boy.”

He was in for a long night but damn, if he didn't put in the work.

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: "Why? Why do you love me?"🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Tell Me

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Why? Why do you love me?”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, almost breakup

Summary: Matt has been acting cold for the past couple of weeks–ever since you told him you loved him.

a/n: Of course Matt was the first one who came to my mind for this prompt. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“We’re done,” Matt stated. “That’s it. I can’t do this any longer.”

A thick and palpable tension hung in the air at Matt’s words, a heaviness so pervasive that you didn't need his heightened senses to feel it filling the apartment. Standing beside the leather couch, your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if they alone were the only thing holding you together. Heart pounding rapidly inside of your chest, it felt close to bursting straight out if you dared to move your arms even an inch. 

Across the room, Matt stood in front of the large living room windows with his back turned to you. The light from the billboard across the street washed the front of him in a dark crimson, casting looming shadows along his tense and rigid form. His hands were situated on his hips, fingers digging so sharply into his dress pants that they were pulling the fabric even more taut around his waist. Everything about his posture–from his clenched jaw to his squared shoulders–felt as if he was intentionally shutting you out as well as keeping a physical distance between the pair of you.

This is it, you thought. This is where he finally tries to push me away.

You’d known Matt for a while now. Long enough to know how he operated when things became just a bit too much for him or if someone grew a bit too close. Over time you’d slowly learned the signs of when he’d start to close himself off, beginning to read him sometimes better than he thought he could even read you. 

It had been ten months since you’d met Matt while working on an article for The Bulletin. You’d interviewed him about a case that his firm had won and the pair of you had steadily and easily grown closer together after that initial encounter. Neither of you had been able to stay away from the other. You’d long since been past the point of just dating and occasionally sleeping together–you’d been an official couple for months now. You had clothing hanging in his closet and you knew exactly where he stored the red Daredevil suit that he donned most evenings. You knew about his past from the many late nights he'd opened up to you either after a rough patrol as the Devil or a case he was particularly fired up over.

But lately Matt had started to become prickly around you. Constantly on edge. Canceling dates and intentionally trying to avoid you. He was often gone in the mornings the few times you’d stayed over at his apartment, not even giving you his usual goodbye kiss before he left. He hadn’t invited you over as frequently either because most nights now he told you that he planned to stay late at the office before running out to deal with one thing or another as Daredevil. 

This had all started just over two weeks ago. Right around the time you’d first told him you loved him. He’d seemed off that night, too. You remembered how he’d suddenly grown quiet in bed, his expression shifting to something impossible to read as he almost immediately shut you out. You’d assured him that you hadn’t expected him to say it back in the moment–and you’d meant that. You knew he’d heard the truth in the firm beat of your heart. Because you loved Matt. You knew him opening his heart up to let someone in was not something he did easily, and you were prepared to continue proving to him that you weren’t about to disappear from his life like he seemed to secretly fear.

You’d long since wondered if his sudden coldness was some sort of a test, one he himself wasn’t even aware he was putting you through. As if he expected you to leave at the first sign of difficulty in the relationship which had otherwise been fairly smooth. You’d always encouraged open communication between you both–something else you were aware he struggled with–but you’d always been patient and understanding with him, which was what you’d tried to be over these past couple of weeks.

Until this very moment. Because right now you did not fully understand why Matt had just told you that he couldn’t continue the relationship anymore. You could feel the tears building in your eyes as you stared at the back of his navy blue dress shirt, your eyes fixed on the wrinkles that formed throughout his work day. In your chest, you could feel your heart teetering on the verge of shattering, ready to break into pieces with only a few more words from his mouth. You found yourself wondering if Matt would be able to hear your heart break.

But you didn't want to let him go without a fight. You didn’t want to lose him. You loved him far too much to let him self-sabotage the relationship you'd both created and poured yourselves into over the past few months without even trying to get through to him first.

“There’s no way you mean any of that, Matt,” you told him, shaking your head and ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His head snapped to the side when you'd finally spoken, the sharp angle of his profile swathed in red just over the top of his broad shoulder. His jaw was set firm, but even in the light from the billboard you could see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, a rough edge to his words.

“Because,” you answered, taking a small, hesitant step towards him and noticing the way he flinched. “I know you. I think you’re just trying to hurt me to avoid the perceived hurt you think is bound to happen if you continue getting close to me. Growing comfortable in our relationship. Because you think I’m going to leave you. You think it's inevitable.”

The muscle jumped in Matt's cheek again, the only movement you caught on his otherwise immobile body. Pressing your lips together, you tried to fight the way they'd begun to quiver. In this moment, it felt more like you were approaching a feral cat than a grown man–a feeling you'd experienced a few times with Matt in the past. And you knew right now that if you showed him any sign of weakness he'd pounce on it.

“You're scared,” you continued slowly, taking another cautious step towards him. “I think you're terrified of how great things have been between us. I think you feel as if you don't deserve the happiness I've seen written on your face when we're together.”

Something like an agitated growl rumbled in his chest at your words. Not exactly a noise of disagreement, but also not exactly the sound of a warning. It sounded more alarmed than anything, which had you feeling more confident that you'd just struck the exact problem he'd created in his mind.

“But you're wrong,” you assured him firmly. “You deserve love and happiness, Matthew. And I intend to be here with you. I will happily spend every day right by your side helping you until you see it for yourself.”

You took another cautious and careful step towards him, but you stopped moving the second you saw his lip curl back into something like a snarl. You could see his eyes narrow at you even behind the lenses of his red glasses just before he spoke.

“Why?” he growled. “Tell me why.”

Swallowing hard, your hands nervously curled up inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Why what?” you whispered.

“Why do you love me?” he demanded. “Why? How could you possibly love me?”

Freezing on the spot as your breath hitched, confusion briefly washed over you. Despite having now learned his strange behavior had indeed been brought about by you saying that you loved him for the first time weeks ago, it had taken you entirely off guard that he'd wanted an actual explanation as to why you did. But then again, that really shouldn't have surprised you quite so much considering you knew just how unlovable he thought he was. And you weren’t going to let an opportunity to tell him how you really felt slip between your fingers. 

“Because you have the biggest heart I've ever seen, Matthew,” you began softly, emotion thick in your voice. “You keep it buried deep in your chest, hiding it from everyone, but I see it. Every time you come home with another banana bread or casserole dish and an excited story about how you helped someone in this city who'd otherwise have been looked over because they couldn’t afford good legal representation. I see it when you come home late at night bruised, exhausted, and bleeding but grinning in triumph as you tell me who you saved. I see it whenever you just simply look at me.”

The snarl that had initially curled his lips back gradually slipped off of his face while you'd been speaking, the hard lines of his body slowly beginning to soften. He didn't speak, but his shift in body language had given you some hope back. Hope that you could get through to him.

“And I'm not bothered by how much of yourself you give to this city,” you continued, once more carefully closing the space between you both as you slowly lowered your arms to your sides. “I admire you for it, Matthew. Ever since you told me the truth. I've never disliked that part of you. I’ve never taken issue with it. I’ve never been afraid of you. That part of you has only made me admire you more. Love you more.”

You were standing a few feet away from him now, able to see the faint tremble of his lips with how close you were. Everything you were saying was having an effect on him so you continued, hoping your words would start to sink in. Even just a little.

“And it's not just that I admire that big, beautiful heart in your chest,” you told him, “but I admire that big, beautiful brain in that handsome head of yours.” You paused, smiling a little back at him. “I think you're incredibly smart and brilliant, Matt. In and out of the courtroom. You're fiercely passionate about justice no matter the cost to yourself–whether it's sleepless nights out on the rooftops or hours pouring over files here at your apartment. And you're funny when you let yourself stop being so broody most days,” you said, your small smile growing a bit more on your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek. “You brighten my days more than you know, Matty. Always helping me to find the light in the darkness when I think there isn't any. Seeing the good in everyone…except for yourself.”

Reaching up, you wiped away another stray tear that had raced down your cheek with the back of your hand. Matt sniffled quietly, his shoulders sagging as he finally and hesitantly turned towards you. His hands had fallen from his hips, hanging at his sides as his fingers twitched.

“Do you really want me to go?” you whispered, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Because I–I can take my things and leave if that's what you really want, Matt. I can walk out that door and leave you alone.”

Matt shook his head firmly, his mouth visibly trembling at your words. Tears had managed to slide their way beneath his glasses, trailing their way down his cheeks. The sight had your own tears falling faster as he timidly approached you, closing the small bit of distance that remained. 

“No,” he breathed out. “No, I don't really want that.”

Feeling a flood of relief, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist. Drawing himself the rest of the way into the front of you, Matt immediately buried his face directly against your neck. You could feel a dampness forming on your skin from his tears, the feeling only causing you to hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean it. I’m just–just–”

Turning your head, you buried your face into his hair as your hands began rubbing light and soothing patterns over his back while he struggled to find the words he wanted. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you breathed in that warm, rich scent that was always uniquely Matt. With his warm body wrapped around you, your once rapidly beating heart began slowing back to a normal rhythm.

“I know,” you murmured back, lips brushing his hair as you spoke. “I know you didn’t mean it, Matty. Relationships are scary,” you told him. “Giving someone so much of yourself is terrifying, I get it. But I love you and I don’t want to leave you. I’m not going to leave you.”

With his face still buried against your throat, you felt his features screw up against your skin before another rush of Matt’s warm, wet tears began to slide down your neck. Your hands fisted his dress shirt, holding him even tighter to the front of yourself as he cried. You didn’t need him to explain why he’d suddenly begun to weep because you’d already known the answer. He’d heard the truth in your explanation for why you loved him as you’d spoken them aloud. The same unwavering truth that was always present in your words. 

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

A smile pulled your lips upwards, tears burning at your eyes for an entirely different reason now. You pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of his head as a warm rush of emotion filled you at hearing him finally say those three little words back to you.

“I love you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “And I don’t ever want to stop.”

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