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0ctober-writes · 2 months

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Hello, have a smut Matt X wife reader request. You are part of Nelson and Murdock and have your own office, there you have dirty thoughts, but this does not go unnoticed by Matt who really has to pull himself together not to storm into your office

Behind Closed Doors and Paper-Thin Walls

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, Reader is thirsting hard, Foggy is an innocent bystander. Potential reference to switch!Matt and switch!Reader if you squint, Matt has a cock, Reader has a pussy; oral, p-in-v, bondage, and pegging/bottom!Matt fantasies. Part 2 potential if it's wanted. No use of Y/N. 2,761 words.

The only thing that separated you and your husband, Matt Murdock, was a papery-thin wall and a cracked window.

You sat at a desk in the main room in the office, prepping Wednesday’s case file for Matt and Foggy. With every trial the law firm only got bigger and bigger, and they desperately needed help planning cases. In the other room, Foggy’s office, the duo were on the phone with some-such or another. It apparently wasn’t going well because you could hear Foggy slam close his desk drawer. You huffed yourself, not exactly in the mood to deal with two very grumpy men, no matter how professional they maintained.

Matt walked out of the office, hands running through his hair. He made a beeline to the coffee pot, hoping to drown his woes into a cheap brew. Of course, it had been emptied by the three of you in the morning, so he went to work looking for the ground beans.

“Sounds like you guys are dealing with a nightmare,” you said. You stood from the desk to help him find the coffee, fetching the bag from one of the top shelves. “Let me make your coffee so you can breathe for a minute.” You knew you didn’t have to do this, Matt was capable of making his own drink no matter his mood, but you wanted to alleviate his stress in any way you could.

“You don’t have to do that, honey, I got it,” Matt objected, going to take the bag from you only for you to snatch it from his reach.

“I know, now go sit down. I love you,” you said, throwing out the old filter and putting a new one in the brewer.

Matt obeyed, quickly accepting a chance to be doted on. He sagged into one of the chairs by the entrance door, loosening his tie and leaning back with a sigh. You glanced over for just a second to check on him, but stopped all movement when you saw him. Disheveled hair from running his hands through it, loose tie, head leaned back… it was a position all too familiar to you. You coughed to keep yourself from whining, a blush rushing to your face and running down your neck.

You tried to keep your thoughts from trailing off the task, telling yourself that you were at work, Matt was in a bad mood, and Foggy is literally right there. Like playing tug-of-war with a team of oxen, you quickly fell down the horny rabbit hole. Your mind flashed with images of all the times the two of you had fucked at work–when you were still the newbie, after a date night that turned into a work night, the week before your wedding–there were definitely a dozen more examples, but those stood out to you the most. Your thighs squeezed together, suddenly so desperate to touch yourself. You hoped Matt would be too distracted to notice your sudden change in mood.

Matt didn’t notice at first, too caught up in his own whirlwind of thoughts, only none of them were anything like yours. It was only when the coffee pot beeped, alerting that it was finished, that the two of you were ripped from your trances. With shaky hands you filled a mug. Still oblivious, not paying attention to anything beyond how the hell he was gonna get his client to cooperate, he took the cup from your hands. It was when he felt the small tremors in your fingers that he perked up.

At first he thought you were upset, considering that he’d let his bad mood rub off on you, but that possibility was almost instantly eliminated when he took in the rest of you. Your hands had been abnormally warm, your heartbeat stuttering and speeding up, and that smell he knew all too well. You were needy, for whatever reason, and he knew you were already wet.

You gulped, fiddling with your skirt. “Anything else I can do to make it easier?” You asked, trying your hardest to keep your tone appropriately concerned and not desperate. Matt’s eyebrows were furrowed together–god fucking damn it, he was so hot–like he was still frustrated from what happened earlier. No, little did you know, he was trying to figure out how you got so aroused in between the time he left Foggy’s office and now, unless he’d somehow missed it even earlier.

Matt hummed an indication of no, taking a drink of the coffee to ground himself for totally different reasons. “Thank you, I really appreciate this,” he said.

You bit your lip, deciding to lean down and give him a chaste kiss to his lips. Just a taste, that’s all you wanted, all you needed, you told yourself. He eagerly returned it, reaching up to rest his hand on the side of your neck to let you know he didn’t want you to pull away. He was trying his hardest to control himself, but you were so tempting, and you always knew all the right ways to destress him.

An awkward cough echoed in the room and you jumped, pulling away from Matt despite a quiet huff from him. There Foggy stood, clearly still annoyed, but definitely not at you two. “Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but I heard the coffee. Matt, hands to yourself, buddy,” he said lightheartedly. He’d walked in on much worse in his three years of knowing you.

With a blush, you licked your lips, trying to savor the lingering taste of your husband. You glanced one last time at Matt before you walked back to your desk and pretended to get back to your work. He definitely knew.

“How you holding up, Fog?” You asked, flipping between the same two pages in the case file like that would exorcize your brain.

“You do not want to know, this guy is probably as big of a nightmare to work with as Castle. He’s not telling the truth about something, I just know it, and it’s making this a whole lot harder than it has to be!” Foggy freely ranted, pouring his coffee much closer to the top than was safe for your floors.

You tried to be sympathetic, you really did, but your will was not that strong and your cunt was soaking your panties. You thought back to last night, when Matt’s cock hitting the back of your throat satisfied every part of you. He was so thick, stretching your lips more than you ever thought you could handle before you met him, and the feeling of him throbbing against your tongue had you whining around his cock. When you finally had him cumming down your throat, it was your turn, Matt throwing you back on the bed so he could worship you between your legs until you couldn’t stand to cum anymore and then some.

“Okay, I know the first two pages aren’t that interesting,” Foggy teased. “If you’re bored you can do something else, you’re not bound to this case forever.”

God, he really should’ve said anything else, because now you were picturing tying Matt’s wrists together, riding him and taking care of him after a long day of bullshit. Leaving scratches down his chest, feeling his hand wrapping around your neck, and forcing his cock as deep as it can go inside of you... The warmth in between your legs exploded into tingles and your face got hotter with each passing fantasy.

Matt tried his hardest to keep himself together, focused entirely on tuning in to your body. He sensed every little reaction, could hear your thighs rubbing and squeezing together behind your desk. He wished Foggy was anywhere but here right now so he could touch you in all the ways you so desperately craved.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, guess I’m not all the way here right now,” you said, brushing off Foggy’s comment, “maybe I need some of that coffee for myself.”

“I got it!” Matt rushed, all too eager to serve you. Foggy rolled his eyes at how lovestruck Matt always seemed to be for you, but deep down he found the pair of you adorable. You were like the power duo, a classic Romeo and Juliet–minus the family feud, the weird age gap, and the suicide.

You slyly stared as Matt poured you a cup. Your eyes trailed up and down his body, taking your time when they landed on his ass. A shiver ran up your spine as you pictured him bent over for you, maybe over your very desk, presented and waiting for you to fill him up. It was a fantasy you’d discussed before, even planned to try out soon, because recently he’d been obsessed with the idea of you fucking him. Using one of your dildos, stretching him out, and filling him up in ways no one else ever had, touching him in ways he’d never let anyone else even think about.

“Thanks, hon,” you said when Matt brought you your coffee. “I’m gonna go finish these up in my office, okay? Let me know if you guys need anything.” You were hoping with a little more privacy you could ease the ache a little bit. You pecked Matt on the cheek and entered your little sanctuary, adorned with a cat calendar and a couple dying succulents.

You closed the door and plopped the small stack of files on your desk. You sat in your rolly chair and leaned back with a sigh that was somewhere between relief and frustration. You pushed your lap all the way under the desk to ensure a little more modesty. You ran your fingers over the front of your skirt at first, letting the small tingles run their way through your body. There was no way Matt couldn’t hear you right now, but part of you was hoping that he was getting as riled up as you were.

Meanwhile, Matt was trying his best to split his attention between you and Foggy, with you clearly dominating. Even with Foggy’s loud ranting and raving about the woes of their client, all he could hear was your shuddering breaths and the rustling of your skirt. The picture was almost crystal clear: you leaned back against your chair, skirt hiked up to your waist, and hand shoved down your panties. He could feel a warm flush of his own traveling lower and lower.

“You know what I mean?” Foggy finished, almost out of breath after his long winded soapbox. Matt quickly snapped out of his trance.

“Hm? Yeah, this guy’s a nightmare, Fog. Hey, why don’t you go on a walk to clear your head?” Matt suggested. He was hoping and praying to every Saint above that he would just leave the office already so he could get his hands on you.

“Maybe later. Let’s just get this done today, I’m sick of this case,” Foggy said.

Deep down, Matt was crying on the inside.

You were too, but for a totally different reason.

Your skirt was well up past your hips and your panties pulled down to stretch across your thighs. Your fingers are slowly stroking the length of your clit to really tease yourself. A shiver reverberates across your body and you let out a small moan. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as Matt’s fingers, but you’re still left melted against your chair.

Matt’s legs are crossed in a desperate attempt to hide his erection from his best friend. He gulps when he can hear a shaky whine slip past your lips. He has to grip the arm of his chair to keep himself grounded.

You’re not oblivious to the effect you’re having on Matt, though you can’t actually see or hear him. Instead you use your imagination. He’s probably fiddling with his tie, one of his nervous habits. His breathing is probably getting heavier, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and hard cock straining against his dress pants–you throw a hand over your mouth the stifle a moan. Your fingers start rubbing tight circles against your clit, sometimes dipping down to tease your hole every once and a while.

Matt felt like his skin was on fire at this point. How Foggy hadn’t noticed him dying in his chair was beyond him. He was barely able to grit out brief answers to whatever bullshit was being discussed. He could practically taste you from across the office.

You were using both hands at this point, one hand fingering your cunt and the other stroking your clit. You could feel the orgasm building up as your clit pulsed and throbbed from your touches. Flashes of Matt danced across your closed eyelids. Memories of him fucking you up against these very walls, his cock impossibly deep inside of you while you scratched at his back. Him dropping to his knees to tongue fuck your pussy from under your desk while you completed work. You teasing your poor husband as he begged you to finally let you cum after denying him for the third time.

Your heart was pounding against your ribs and you could hardly catch your breath. Your fingers pounded against your spot relentlessly. You were surprised you could stay as quiet as you had been, yet Matt could still hear everything. Your labored breathing, your racing heart, the wet noises of your cunt. He was gripping his knee, so desperate for you, he could hardly stand it. He could tell you were close and that made it all the more painful. He should be the one driving you to the edge, not your hands.

It hit you suddenly, the first wave of your orgasm. The hand rubbing your clit flew up to cover your mouth once more while you fingerfucked yourself through each and every wave of euphoria. You whimpered Matt’s name under your breath as quietly as you could, knowing that it would rile him up even more. It worked, Matt’s cock leaked precum into his boxers.

Once the final wave passed, your muscles collapsed and you sagged against your chair. You pulled out your fingers and limply laid your hand against your thigh. You took deep breaths to ground yourself. You wished Matt was here to help you clean up.

Matt could hear that your breathing had slowed and the wet sounds of your fingers slipping in and out of you had ceased. He matched your slow, deep breaths to bring himself down as much as possible. His cock still painfully throbbed and the flush on his neck refused to go away.

The sound of your clothes rustling, then your office door opening, alerted Matt that you were going to the bathroom to clean up. He lamely excused himself from Foggy and rushed to meet you on your way there. When he stepped out into the main room, you stopped just at the bathroom door and waited for him. He made his way over to you and stood close, nearly right up against you.

“You know I heard that,” Matt breathed into your ear. You couldn’t resist shivering.

“I know, baby. I’m surprised you were able to keep yourself together,” you teased back.

“You know you’re paying for that when we get home, right?”

Your heart jumped at the implication. What did Matt have in store for you? Would you fuck you the minute the two of you passed the threshold, shoving you against a wall and taking what was his? Or would he take you to bed and tease you, going tortuously slow. Would he deny you, making you wait to cum the way you made him wait? Would he refuse to stop, making you cum over and over again until you were shaking and couldn’t cum anymore? Your cheeks burned bright red from all the possibilities.

While you were stuck in thought, Matt gently took the hand that had been inside of you. He raised it up to his lips and slowly took them in his mouth. His tongue swirled around each finger to catch any of your cum that he could. You whined without thinking, definitely too loud to be discreet. Matt slowly pulled your fingers out with a quiet ‘pop’ and dropped your hand back down.

“Just needed a taste, sweetheart,” Matt teased through his grin. “Go clean up and I’ll let Foggy know we’re going home early.”

“Fuck, okay Matt,” you replied. You rushed into the bathroom and all but slammed the door behind you, nervous and excited for whatever your consequences might be.

#Matt Murdock #Matt Murdock x Reader #Matt Murdock Smut #Matt Murdock x Reader Smut #my writing #mine #request

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0ctober-writes · 2 months

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Just spent 30 minutes trying to research what conditions allow/disallow a blind eye to dilate for a single sentence in a fic just for my sub to remind me of that fuckin scene from S2E6

#“would the radiactive waste damage his pupillary nerves?”#idk man maybe watch the show #daredevil #not writing

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0ctober-writes · 5 months

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Break the Tension [Chapter One "The Arrival"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: When Marci first asked you to be the Maid of Honor at her and Foggy’s wedding, you'd already been forewarned that your old college rival from Columbia, Matthew Murdock, would be Foggy’s Best Man. And while you'd expected a long weekend filled with tension between the pair of you, you hadn't anticipated all of the sexual tension–or the sex.

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: This is a short series (planned for seven parts) and I just really needed to get the idea out of my head. This is definitely not my usual Matt x Reader dynamic nor the usual cocky Matt in an enemies to lovers fic; you'll see why even more in chapter two. Let's just say Matt needs the smug wiped off his face and I wanted to see him desperate. Feedback is always appreciated! The chapter list can be found here!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705

The taxi driver hefted your suitcase out of the trunk of his car, setting it onto the circular gravel driveway beside you with an audible huff of exertion. You watched as he wiped a hand across his forehead, one hand still holding the hanger of your dress high above your head so the white garment bag wouldn't drag along the ground.

“Thank you,” you said, arm already growing tired from holding up your dress.

The man closed the trunk of the taxi, turning around and sending you a friendly smile. “Of course, miss,” he replied. “I hope you have a lovely weekend. Certainly looks like a nice place you’re staying at.”

You laughed lightly in return, wishing the man a good day before he turned and headed back to the driver’s side of the car. Lifting up the handle of your suitcase that you'd brought for the weekend, you turned and focused on the grand building before you. It was easily two levels tall with trails of ivy growing along most of the stone exterior between the numerous large windows. The manor itself was impressive with two wings branching off either side of the main building. The front driveway you were currently standing on led up to a walkway that wound between an impressive garden of hedges and flowers. In the center was a large fountain, and the peaceful sound of the water spewing forth met your ears once the taxi had finally driven off behind you.

The venue was massive, boasting quite an expansive plot of acreage that it was nestled inside–or so Marci had told you during all the wedding planning. A long, winding road encompassed by trees on either side had led up to Fairfield Manor, and not too far behind the manor you'd spotted what looked like a forest when the taxi had pulled up. You were positive if you consumed too much alcohol this weekend and wandered outside past sunset, you'd surely end up lost.

As much as Marci had shown you photos of the place, gushing over it repeatedly to you about how perfect it was for her and Foggy’s wedding, the photos certainly hadn’t done it justice.

Beginning to make your way up to the entrance of the manor, you walked towards the winding path which led through the stunning garden out front, carrying your dress and toting your luggage behind you. Seeing the place in person had left you wondering how Foggy and Marci had afforded this venue for an entire three days. You figured Foggy’s firm must’ve been doing well because Marci’s salary alone couldn't possibly have paid for everything. Though with how extravagant it was, it most certainly screamed Marci.

This weekend the entire bridal party, along with Marci and Foggy’s immediate family, were staying here for the duration of the wedding festivities. Tonight you were practicing the rehearsal for the wedding ceremony here at the venue before heading to a nearby restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. Tomorrow was the big wedding day itself, which meant an early morning start for hair and makeup during breakfast, followed by an incredibly long day and probably a drunken evening. Then on Sunday Marci had scheduled a late morning brunch before everyone departed the manor, allowing a bit more time to visit before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon.

Coming to a stop before the large, ornate wooden door that seemed to tower over you, you released the handle of your luggage long enough to push it open. Immediately you were met with the sound of voices and loud, boisterous laughter coming from a hall to your right as the door swung wide into the foyer. Though as you began to pull your suitcase into the building, still juggling your garment bag in your other hand, your ears picked up on the sound of a familiar voice. One you hadn't heard in a long time.

One that instantly set you on edge.

It was annoying that he was here. Of course you'd expected it–Marci had warned you ahead of time–but actually seeing him again this weekend was going to be another story.

Matthew Murdock. The cocky fuck boy of Columbia who thought he was smarter than you, always going out of his way to show you up and point out your every mistake because one time you had embarrassed him by correcting him in class. He was an asshole, always so irritatingly ethical for a man who slept around without a care for anyone's feelings. Though of course he'd never flirted with you , always choosing to argue with you instead. And when graduation day had come, he'd certainly rubbed it in your face that he'd been top of the class.

Though what he hadn't known was that you'd spent most of your time busting your ass working at a coffee shop just to try to pay what the scholarships wouldn't cover of your tuition while your mother was struggling with a cancer diagnosis. Thankfully she'd gone into remission not long after you'd graduated, but still, Matthew Murdock had made college miserable for you on top of everything you’d had going on. And you'd despised him for it.

So you certainly weren't excited to see him this weekend.

Setting your luggage down and turning back around to close the heavy door after yourself, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and remain calm. You were here for Marci, after all. This weekend was a big moment for her and you were excited and grateful to be a part of everything. She was one of your best friends. And truthfully you'd never had issues with Franklin Nelson. He had at least always been cordial and friendly to you.

So you weren’t going to think about him .

The moment you’d shut the door with a solid thud , you heard your name being excitedly called from behind you. Spinning around with a smile already plastered across your face, you spotted Marci with outstretched arms racing towards you across the foyer. Her short, flowy white dress fluttered around her legs as she nearly jumped on you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You’re finally here!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering when you’d show up!”

"Sorry, I got caught up at work," you told her, squeezing her just as tightly back the best you could with your dress still in hand. "Had some details to finalize before I was gone for the weekend and you know how Sheridan gets."

Marci pulled away from you, rolling her eyes at the mention of your boss.

"I do, in fact," she answered. "But you're here now so let's not talk about work! Come on, let's get your things to your room. It's almost time for the rehearsal."

Grabbing your luggage handle you followed Marci down the hallway, wheeling your bag behind you in one hand and now no longer as concerned about the garment bag dragging along the floor in your other, your arm tired from holding it above your head for so long already. As the pair of you walked, you could see a group of others that you assumed were the bridal party already congregating about midway down the hall, drinks in their hands and dress clothes on. The sight was a reminder that you’d still have to change quickly before the events of the evening because you hadn’t wanted to stay in the dress slacks and blouse you had worn to work earlier for the duration of the evening.

"I take it I'm the last one to arrive then?" you asked Marci.

The sound of both of your heels clicking along the marble floor echoed around the elaborate hallway as the pair of you walked. Your eyes scanned each painting lining the walls that you passed, noticing each one was a beautiful watercolor of a picturesque scene. Overhead you noticed the ornate chandeliers hanging down, the crystal glinting in the light. Truthfully this place was stunning.

"Yes, but that's alright," Marci answered, waving a hand. "I appreciate that you sent a text as a forewarning though. But," she continued, glancing at you over her shoulder and wincing before she leaned in to whisper, "that also means you're the last to pick a room. So you sort of…don't get to pick."

Shoulders sagging, you shot Marci a flat look. "What's that supposed to mean? Is the heat not working in it or something? Or it's haunted by a hundred year old ghost?"

Marci shook her head, a sheepish smile on her face. "No, it just means the only room left is the one…next to Matt’s," she answered softly.

You came to an abrupt halt, stopping dead in your tracks and closing your eyes. Your first instinct was to turn around and call that taxi back to see if you could catch a ride back to the city. It was bad enough you'd have to be cordial to Matt this weekend, but you certainly did not want to interact with him more than necessary.

But you were here for Marci this weekend, you reminded yourself again. It was only for a few days that you’d be staying here and having to run into him, and then you'd go back to never running into him again in the city. And it would be heaven. Inhaling a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face as you focused back on Marci.

“I know you both never really got along but–”

"It’s okay," you replied slowly, shaking your head. "So our rooms are next to each other for a few days? Not a big deal," you said, trying to convince yourself just as much as Marci. "Doesn't mean I'll have to talk to him. Or see him. Or anything more than necessary."

"Right," Marci agreed, nodding quickly. "Exactly. You two only need to interact for the wedding and the rehearsal a bit.”

With a sigh you grabbed your luggage, continuing to make your way back down the hall with Marci at your side. But as the pair of you began to pass the group of bridal party members already loudly conversing with Foggy, you heard them call out to Marci, begging her to stay and join them. Attention shifting to the group, your eyes almost instantly landed on Matt standing just beside Foggy. Your jaw clenched at the sight of him, your hand tightening around the handle of your luggage as your back stiffened.

He was dressed in a nice pair of slacks, a white dress shirt with a dark red tie, and a dark suit coat. He'd apparently switched out those black rectangular glasses he always wore in college, exchanging them for some round ones with red lenses. Admittedly they looked good on him, which only annoyed you further. Because of course he'd grown more attractive in the years since you'd last seen him–he even seemed broader and somehow more muscular under that fitted suit coat with the buttons of his dress shirt straining at the seams. Though you had a strong feeling he was probably still the same flirty asshole you remembered him as, maybe even worse now since he could throw around that he had his own law firm. And the stupid smile on his face as his head turned in your direction only irritated you.

"I'll be back in a minute," Marci told the group. She said your name, telling them you'd just arrived. "I was going to show her to her room. Help her get settled first."

"No, that's alright. Go on," you assured her, gesturing your head to the group. "I can find the room on my own. I need to change anyway and then I can join everyone."

"You sure?" Marci asked carefully, focusing back on you.

"Yeah, don't worry about me," you replied.

And that’s when you heard it. Matt saying your name, the sound of it on his lips causing your eyes to narrow as your head turned slowly back towards him. It had been so long since you’d heard him say it, yet it still had your blood boiling almost instantly. The smug smirk that quickly grew on his mouth wasn't helping, either.

"Showing up late?” Matt teased you. “Even after all these years, you still need to make everyone wait on you?”

You bit back the comment forming on your tongue. This was not the time nor the place and you certainly weren’t going to let him openly get a rise out of you in front of everyone. Though it didn’t escape your notice when Foggy nudged Matt’s shoulder, leaning in and whispering something to him.

“Some of us had work to finish, Murdock ,” you countered briskly. Turning your attention back to Marci, you told her, “I’ll get changed fast and be right out. I won’t keep you waiting on me.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” Marci told you, shooting Matt a glare that you know Foggy saw. “We’ll be here a bit longer before we head down to the ceremony location out in the courtyard. And your room is just at the end of the hall,” she continued, pointing down the hallway. “Room twelve. On the right.”

You thanked her before continuing the rest of the way towards your room, fuming internally because you’d been here a matter of minutes and Matt was already getting under your skin. It didn’t bode well for the rest of this weekend.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and your focus fixed straight ahead on the wedding coordinator who was currently running over details about tomorrow’s ceremony with Foggy and Marci. The rest of the bridal party had been paired and lined up at the back of the courtyard behind you, all of you patiently awaiting instructions on what to do next.

There was a lot of chatter coming from the group behind you, too. All of the other bridal party members were taking the time to get to know their partners, animatedly talking to each other. Unfortunately you being the Maid of Honor when Matt was the Best Man meant you two were stuck together for the wedding events this weekend. Currently you were doing your best to ignore his irksome presence beside you as he continued to tap his cane against the stone pavement, the repetitive sound causing you to grind your teeth back and forth. It didn’t help that you were forced to stand so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his body along your bare right arm, the heat of it raising goosebumps. But it was only because it was early fall and a little chilly outside; you couldn’t help it that the bit of warmth happened to feel good.

“So are you just planning to ignore me the entire weekend?” Matt asked softly, leaning slightly towards you as he spoke.

“I would prefer to, yes,” you answered simply.

Matt laughed bitterly, shaking his head. The gesture caught your attention and you glanced at him beside you through narrowed eyes.

“What?” you asked him.

“Just can’t believe you haven’t changed after all these years,” he replied.

Eyebrows shooting up onto your forehead at his comment, you gaped at him. Was he serious ?

“That’s funny coming from the self-important asshole who upon hearing I’m here decides to immediately make a rude comment,” you shot back. “Pretty sure you haven’t changed one bit, Murdock.”

“And you’re apparently still stuck on using my last name,” he quipped back, his head turning towards you as that smirk you hated tugged at his lips. “Why is that, I wonder?”

He leaned over just a bit, his mouth gradually lowering beside your ear. You felt a shiver run up your spine when his warm breath grazed your neck. You told yourself it was due to the chill of the evening and not whatever effect he thought he had on you.

“Is it because you’ve always been afraid that you might actually enjoy saying my name? That you might like the taste of it on your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred in your ear.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed back, your hard stare focused ahead of you once again. “I’m not like those other women, Murdock. Don’t use that patronizing pet name of yours to lump me in with everyone else that bullshit works on. Because your so-called ‘charm’ doesn’t work on me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, straightening back up beside you. “You sure it doesn’t?”

A second later you felt his fingertips lightly brush against your thigh, grazing your skin just beneath the hem of your dress. You sucked in a breath and held it, your eyes falling shut at the warmth of his calloused touch. Matt had never flirted with you before–and he’d certainly never touched you before. You’d only ever seen him try to work his charm on other women, so what the hell was he doing right now? Was he actually interested in you?

Though when he chuckled softly beside you, your eyes immediately flew open again. Your heart began to pound hard in agitation as opposed to whatever it was that had sped it up a moment ago. Because the cocky asshole had done that on purpose . He was fucking with you, just like he’d always done in college. Except this time it felt significantly more embarrassing because, for the briefest of moments, it had felt good when he’d touched you.

“Seems like it might, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

“Use my name if you have a need to speak with me, Murdock,” you ground out between clenched teeth, your cheeks heating. “Though I’d prefer if we kept our interactions limited this weekend so we don’t ruin things for Marci and Foggy.”

“Oh you’ve grown so much more bossy ,” Matt teased in delight. “That makes ignoring what you want that much more fun, sweetheart.”

As the wedding coordinator began to make her way back towards the bridal party still lined up, you expelled a sharp breath from your nose. Your hands balled into fists as you hugged your arms tighter over your chest, your nails biting into your palms. This weekend was going to be far worse than you’d imagined. Initially you’d hoped that Matt had grown up since graduation, willing to let whatever it was that made him a prick to you go for a few days for the sake of his best friend’s wedding.

But instead he was still so… Matthew Murdock . Had he really not grown since college? Matured into an actual adult? Why the hell was he like this? Because you’d only ever seen him treat you this way, and it was infuriating.

“Alright ladies and gentleman,” the wedding coordinator announced.

Stopping just a few feet before you and Matt, she clapped her hands together to quiet the group. A smile spread across her mouth when the chatter came to a stop and you placed all of your focus on her and not Matt, though you could see that smug smile on his lips out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ll be starting the processional inside, just past those doors behind you, for the actual ceremony tomorrow,” she continued, gesturing to the French doors you’d all come out of a few minutes ago before lining up. “But for the sake of time we’ll start out here. You’ll be paired up with whomever you’re walking down the aisle with, moving one at a time down the aisle that’ll be here tomorrow when the chairs are set up. Then the pair of you part before the stone steps for the ceremony just there,” she said, turning at the waist and pointing to where Foggy was already standing and looking nervous. “Once the couple before you parts, the next one proceeds down the aisle. So let’s practice that for now, shall we?”

The woman had turned, making to get out of the way of the line for the processional, but then her eyes caught you and Matt standing beside each other. Her brows creased as she abruptly came to a stop, turning back around and pointing a finger between the pair of you.

“You two–Best Man and Maid of Honor–you need to link arms while you walk down the aisle,” she said. “Go on, just like the others behind you.”

At her comment, Matt’s arm rose up beside you, brushing against your own arm as he offered it out to you. You looked over at it, your lip pulling back in slight distaste. You did not want to have him escort you down the aisle now or tomorrow. And that sentiment was made all the more true when your gaze slid up, noticing Matt was smiling down at you in sheer amusement. He was clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Matt urged. “Let me escort you.”

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you slipped your arm through his before grabbing onto his bicep. But as soon as your fingers lightly curled around his suit coat, you could feel the thick muscle of his arm beneath your hand. Swallowing hard, you pushed that observation as far from your mind as you could. It wasn’t a fact you needed to remember about him.

But as the pair of you began to make your way towards the stone steps where the ceremony would take place tomorrow, Matt’s cane lightly tapping along the stone as you led him there, you couldn’t help but notice his head had turned a bit towards you. And unless your eyes were deceiving you, it looked like he was focused on you behind his red lenses.

#we're not gonna talk about it #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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Okay but like Matt and premature ejaculation

lemme give you my thots 😌 (18+)

mdni below cut

with his heightened sense sensitivity, he is partial to busting a nut a little earlier than some. I do think it's something that has happened on more than one occasion, so it's something you're both aware of

he def gets in his head, especially if there’s a lot on. and it’s like both his heads aren’t on the same wavelength

I do think that he gets a little flustered after coming (cumming?? idk which is right) early, maybe apologising a lot. but you reassure him, go on saying that him falling apart with a light touch to the thigh was the hottest thing you'd ever seen, also telling him it's normal and not to be sorry blah blah. you'd stroke his ego for a little, making sure he doesn't actually feel bad about coming too soon

you'd either slowly wank him off, using his cum as lube, kissing him sloppy, all that good stuff. or he'd make you cum to make up for finishing too soon - eating you out, or he'd squeeze his soft cock in you and slowly fuck you to make himself hard again

but just bc he came, that doesn't mean you're done for the night

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#absolutely abusing his sensory sensitivity to overstim him–#i mean what #matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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Sub Matt is to live for

sub!matt is just the sweetest <3 always aiming to please and be good for his partner whenever he gets into that headspace

“you’re so good, matthew.”

you could see him preen at that, eyes fluttering shut as his lips and tongue worked overtime on your dripping cunt. he nuzzled himself between your thighs, feeling absolutely euphoric at the feeling of plush, velvet smooth skin enveloping him whole. he felt safe. you were his safe place.

“fuck, just like that, pretty boy,” your back arched as two corse hands pulled your thighs impossibly closer. god, there was nothing better than the feeling of the stubble lining his jaw rubbing at your skin and the vibrations occasionally wracking through your lower half as he moaned at your taste. matthew had always said there was nothing better than the taste of you, something so sweet and one of a kind, and absolutely all his.

as your fingers carded through his hair, tugging and pulling as the unruly, disheveled mess atop his pretty head, your moans began to grow higher in pitch and much more breathy. every touch from his lips and tongue sent your body into overdrive, and it was all too much yet not enough. it could never be enough, not when it was him.

as mindless praises fell through your lips, filling up an otherwise quiet room, you could feel him pawing at your thighs, blunt nails dragging across delicate skin. it was more than evident he was enjoying this as much as you were, perhaps even more so.

with a little more encouragement, you came. hard. shudders wracked your body and you gasped wantonly, jaw gone slack and eyes rolled back. even then, matthew didn’t let up. how could he when you sang praises so sweetly and emitted something akin to nectar honey?

“good boy.”

#YES HE IS SO BABYGIRL #sub!matt murdock #sub!matt murdock x reader

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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btw to the person who requested a Matt x Reader fic where Reader gets pregnant, it's currently standing at 3,222 words and they haven't fucked yet 🙏 I promise I'm working on it, it's just gonna be long

Everyone else who made a request, I'm working in order of first come first serve, so unless I reach a writer's block with this current fic, I won't begin those until I'm done with this

#size matters (to me) (for fics)#not writing

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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Seeking Forgiveness [Part Six]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: Another angsty and sad installment, but hey there's finally an update for this fic! There's also some POV switches in this one but it should be obvious. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt hadn’t meant to show up at the office in such a foul mood that Friday morning. That wasn’t his intention. He’d gone through a multitude of emotions last night, barely getting any sleep after he’d stopped by your apartment and found out that you were pregnant. Eventually he’d finally decided that he would seek your forgiveness for how awful he’d treated you, wanting to prove just how serious he was about being there for the both of you. And he was not going to give up until he’d somehow managed it. Until he proved himself to you. With a focused calm after that silent vow, he’d put back his apartment after the destructive mess he’d made of it in his self-loathing fury.

But yet somehow as he stepped into the office and heard both Karen and Foggy working at their desks, he couldn’t stop that bit of bitter anger that suddenly burned white hot in his stomach. Because they both had to have known that you were pregnant this whole time. He knew Karen had been spending time with you, and he figured Foggy’s rage at him back on Monday morning had to have been due to him finding out the truth, too. And yet neither of them had said a thing.

Feeling irrationally angry, Matt slammed the door harshly behind himself before roughly storming his way to his office. He heard the way both Foggy and Karen had glanced up from their desks at his loud entrance, probably exchanging a look with each other about his bad mood.

Dropping his briefcase onto his desk in his frustration, Matt folded up his cane before he also slammed that onto his desk. Closing his eyes, he blew out a rough breath, his hands aggravatedly readjusting his tie.

This wasn't on Foggy or Karen, he reminded himself. This was between the two of you. What had happened was due to his actions. You were allowed to be friends with them still, allowed to have confided in them. Even if it hurt him to be the last to know.

But as much as Matt tried hard to calm himself down and not lash out, ultimately his anger won out.

Swiftly turning on his heel, Matt stormed back out of his office, his teeth grinding together. Hands rising to roughly grip his hips, he couldn’t fight the near growl in his voice when he spoke.

“Both of you knew, didn’t you?” he called out into the office. “That she was pregnant? With my child?”

He heard Foggy sigh, gradually sliding his chair back and making his way around his desk before exiting his office. Karen hesitated for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she slowly rose from her desk, too. Both of them entered the main room of the office a moment later, focusing on Matt.

“So you finally spoke with her?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah,” Matt snapped. “I did. Turns out she’s pregnant. But you both knew that, didn’t you? Before I even did?”

“Yes,” Karen replied. “Wasn’t exactly my place to tell you that, though.”

“She was planning to tell you herself, Matt,” Foggy added. “That was her place to do so, not ours. I know you know that.”

Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation. Of course he knew they had a point, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, but that didn’t stop him from being angry that he’d been walking around this office entirely oblivious while both of them knew what was really going on. While both of them knew he was going to be a father.

“I…take it the talk didn’t go so well?” Foggy asked carefully.

Matt’s eyes narrowed back at him behind his lenses. “No, Fog, it didn’t,” he answered. “She told me to leave. Told me she was raising our child by herself, even after I practically begged her to let me be a part of things with her.”

“I mean,” Karen began cautiously, “can you blame her?”

Matt’s head darted in the direction of Karen’s voice. He heard the way she crossed her arms over her chest and leant up against the doorframe of her office. His eyes narrowed even further at her words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply.

“It means that you’ve been throwing yourself out there as Daredevil for so long now, Matt,” Karen explained. “You don’t even think about the consequences of it anymore. You were supposed to be in a committed relationship with her. And things had been going well between you both, but in the entirety of your relationship, nothing crazy had been happening in Hell’s Kitchen until just recently. And then you prioritized that over her,” Karen continued. “So can you blame her for not wanting you around for this? For not wanting the added stress of wondering if you’re actually going to show up for her when you say you will? For not wanting to wonder if she even matters to you? If you’re even going to be any help to her when she needs it?”

“Well, I–”

“Because you have absolutely no idea what she’s been going through for the past few weeks,” Karen barreled over Matt. “The fear and the loneliness she’s been feeling. Struggling with uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms while trying to take care of herself all on her own. She’s been in this alone for weeks now, Matt. Because you couldn’t have just put her first for a single damn minute and listen to her the other week when she begged you .”

Matt stood there dumbfounded when Karen finally finished, his mouth falling open as his hands dropped from his hips, coming to hang loosely at his sides. In all his anger at himself since finding out that you were pregnant last night, he admittedly hadn’t thought too much about what you’d been going through alone. Sure, he figured you were scared, he’d certainly thought about that last night–cried over it repeatedly–but he hadn’t thought about what you must be feeling from pregnancy on top of all of that. The memory of you having been sick last night surfaced in his mind and guilt burned through him, dissipating the anger within him immediately.

“She thinks you wouldn’t want to be a father,” Foggy added softly. “That you’d care more about the city and Daredevil than raising a child.”

Matt shook his head firmly, a pain hitting him hard in the chest at Foggy’s words. You’d said that to him last night, too, but it still hurt to hear.

“That’s not true,” he breathed out, still shaking his head. “Nothing could ever be more important to me than my own family. Nothing . Especially because I never–” the words caught in his throat, his eyes closing sharply, “–I never really had one. And I wouldn’t–wouldn’t do the same to my own child. Wouldn’t have them growing up feeling like I ever abandoned them. Because I wouldn’t ,” he nearly snarled out. “I would never . And I will do everything in my power to get her to understand that.”

"I believe you," Foggy said.

The words caught Matt off guard, his head tilting to the side as he heard the truth in Foggy’s heartbeat.

"I know you, man," Foggy continued. "I know how difficult it was for you not having your family once your dad passed. We talked about it often at Columbia. So I believe you."

Matt felt his throat closing up with emotion at his friend’s words. Tears were brimming in his eyes behind his glasses and he blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of Foggy and Karen.

"For what it's worth, I do, too," Karen added gently. "And we have both told her that. But honestly? You do have some changes to make, Matt. You need to learn balance if you're ever going to make things work. Because it's not Foggy and I that you need to convince."

"You're right," Matt readily agreed, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You're right, I do. And I will prove to her that she can depend on me. That I want to be in this with her."

"Good," Foggy firmly replied. "Cause I think you've got some work to do, buddy."

Matt kneeled down on the roof of your building, hunching over and turning an ear towards your apartment below so he could listen in better. He'd passed by here earlier when he'd first gone out tonight as Daredevil, which was something he had been avoiding ever since the breakup. He hadn't wanted to catch so much as a single beat of your heart, afraid the sound alone would shatter him to pieces, only reminding himself how much he missed you. But after the past couple of nights, stopping by your apartment was all he ever seemed compelled to do.

Earlier when he stopped by you'd been curled up on your couch, quietly watching some of those shows he knew you liked. He'd noticed you were tired, close to drifting out of consciousness as you lay there focused on the television. He could hear the exhaustion in your body and the countless times you'd yawned. He'd been itching to hop down onto your fire escape and slip through the window as he listened, desperate to peel off his suit and hold you on the couch like he used to. To let you drift to sleep in his arms while he buried his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

He'd focused on the baby, too. He'd listened to that fluttering heartbeat for quite a long while, having to eventually tear himself away from it only when he overheard someone screaming for help in the city. He hadn't wanted to go, deluding himself into feeling like he was there with you both if he focused hard enough. But ultimately you both were safe inside that apartment and somewhere in the city someone else needed his help.

But he'd come back one last time before he planned to head home for the night and try to sleep because he'd heard you up and about in your apartment. He knew it was early in the morning and he'd been curious, wondering if you were alright. Because you should have been asleep at this point.

So he had settled on the roof, and now he heard you rummaging around your kitchen. A loud rumble of hunger from your stomach met his ears and he understood immediately why you were awake–you were hungry. Making something to eat in the middle of the night.

His shoulders sagged as he placed a gloved hand to the floor of the roof as if that would somehow bring him closer to you. He'd have made you anything you asked. Would have ordered you whatever you wanted, any time of the night.

He'd have done anything for you.

Too little, too late , the bitter words of the Devil reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, I'm going as fast as I can," he heard you say. "Don't forget you're the one who woke me from a dead sleep at two in the morning wanting a grilled cheese. So you'll just need to be patient cause I am not awake, and that weird hunger-nausea is not helping.”

A smile slowly pulled Matt’s lips upwards under the mask as he listened in. You were talking to the baby, your tone a mix of tired, affectionate, and frustrated. He wondered how often you did that. This was the first time he’d stopped by and overheard you.

"Would be a lot easier if you craved things like an apple," you continued, heating the pan. "You know how much work it takes to prep an apple? None, my little devil."

Matt's hand curled into a fist at those three words you'd spoken so lovingly from your lips. My little devil . You used to call him that when he'd make his way back to you at night, running your fingers so delicately across cheek, just beneath his mask, as you inspected him for injuries.

Now you were calling the baby that? It was almost too much for Matt to bear. Sitting on the roof, bent in half over his knees, he became very aware of how much he wasn't quite a part of any of this with you. How separate he felt from you and his own child growing within you. Because of his own mistakes, his inability to prioritize the different parts of his lives. Because he should have just listened to you when you’d asked him to stay.

The burn of tears unexpectedly hit him fast and hard, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to slip through your window right now and pull you into a kiss, to wrap you in his arms and just hold you. He’d love nothing more than to settle you on the couch and make you the best damn grilled cheese you’d ever had. Afterwards, he'd happily clean up the kitchen and take you back to your bed, curling himself around you and falling asleep. You'd always fit so perfectly in his arms.

But you’d probably have yelled at him if he tried to step foot into your apartment again to help. He honestly didn’t think he could handle hearing you tell him yet again that he wasn’t wanted. That he had nothing to offer. That there was nothing here for him. Because that part wasn’t remotely true–you and that unborn child meant more to him than you clearly knew.

“I don’t understand how this smells like the best thing in the world right now,” you said to your belly, Matt’s ears picking up on the way you were rubbing a hand across it. “Yet coffee makes me want to throw up. I have never been a grilled cheese person. Your dad can attest to that.”

It wasn’t until he heard a few droplets land on the roof beside his fist that he realized he’d been crying. His tears had somehow managed to slide out beneath his mask as he’d been listening in to you making your late night snack. His throat had felt like it was closing up the second you’d mentioned him. And the emotions that stirred awake inside of him when you’d referred to him as dad were strong and foreign to him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he croaked out between his tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Talked to you like that. And I–I certainly shouldn’t have left you when you’d needed me.” He slammed his fist against the roof, grimacing at the force as his knuckles stung beneath his gloves. “I should’ve been better. You deserved better. But I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I will fix it.”

“Wonder who you’ll take after more,” you mused softly, entirely oblivious to Matt sitting on the roof of your apartment building listening in. “Me or your dad.”

Raising a gloved hand to his mouth, a muffled sob slipped out of Matt and into it. As much as hearing this was further twisting his heart in his chest, he couldn’t tear himself away. He couldn’t stop listening, wishing he could be part of the conversation with you.

“Hopefully you get your father’s intelligence,” you continued on. “He’s a smart man, even if he’s stubborn and makes absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.”

A humorless laugh fell out of Matt next, still muffled against the palm of his glove. More wet tears trailed down his cheeks, the brisk night air biting unforgivingly against his damp skin. You weren’t wrong on that.

“I wonder what your favorite animal will be, too,” you said, turning off the stovetop. “Dogs? Cats? Koala bears?”

He heard you hum in thought as you plated your grilled cheese, walking your way over to the small table in your kitchen. The same table he’d sat at with you for many dinners, flirting with you over a meal he’d helped you cook or one you’d both ordered out. The same table you both eventually crawled out of bed in the mornings together to have coffee at, with Matt often pulling you down to cuddle in his lap while he slowly woke up.

“Or will you like narwhals maybe?” you murmured, breaking through the memories playing through his mind. "What do you think, my little devil?"

Matt forced himself to stop listening in to that one-sided conversation when he heard you take a bite of your food, shaking his head roughly as he rose to his feet. His heart ached far too much, the tears continuing to drip down his chin and land on the cement roof with an echoing plop each time. He wiped the sleeve of his suit across his face below the mask, trying to dry the tears even though they still kept coming.

He didn’t think he could sit up on your rooftop any longer. It wasn’t the same as actually being there with you. Touching you. Smelling you. Holding you. He needed to find a way to do more than this. To be welcomed back into your life, even just a little bit, so that he could prove himself. He couldn’t just sit here pathetically crying on your apartment building’s rooftop while he eavesdropped.

With a frustrated growl, Matt threw himself over to the next rooftop, heading back out into the night.

Groaning, you woke up to that familiar, unpleasant dizziness as your alarm rang out on the nightstand beside you. Pulling a hand up from out of the sheets, you turned off your alarm before running your hand across your forehead, keeping your eyes closed and waiting for the sensation to pass. It was a few minutes before it finally did, and you slowly began to toss the sheets off of yourself.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you reached over and grabbed the half-full tumbler of water from your nightstand. You had been keeping one there every night lately, noticing that the cool water sometimes helped ease the nausea that woke you from a dead sleep.

Bringing the tumbler up to your parched lips, you slowly drank a few sips down. Your stomach immediately grumbled, churning once the water reached it. Groaning again, you stopped drinking, not wanting to push your luck and end up hunched over your toilet again. Apparently you still had a few more weeks before the morning sickness generally wore off for most women in pregnancy, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t counting down the days. You’d celebrate with a cup of coffee–assuming the scent of it didn’t still deter you.

Rising up onto your feet, you groggily trudged your way out of the bedroom and across the hall to your bathroom. You flipped on the light, setting your tumbler down on the bathroom counter so you could relieve your very full bladder. You’d woken up a handful of times to pee in the middle of the night, but yet somehow there always seemed to be more to empty.

When you’d finished in the bathroom, you shuffled your way down the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth as you yawned. If only you could have crawled back into bed and taken the day off of work. It was the last thing you felt like doing today. But as you made your way past your couch in the living room, something had caught your eye and you paused.

Doubling back you stopped at the armrest of the couch, staring down at what was positioned in the middle of it. A blue plush narwhal with a gold horn sat smiling back at you. One that hadn’t been there earlier.

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at it, confusion washing over you. Until you remembered how you’d gotten hungry in the middle of the night last night and made yourself a grilled cheese. And you’d been talking to your baby bump aloud, musing what they may or may not be like in the future.

You gasped when realization dawned on you, your hand flying back up to your mouth. Matt must have been nearby, eavesdropping on the conversation you were having. He must’ve heard you mention narwhals last night, and then apparently decided to run out and buy one–and the thought of him doing that dressed as Daredevil was admittedly amusing–before slipping into your apartment and leaving it here for you to find. For the baby.

As you trudged your way over to the couch, setting your tumbler down onto the coffee table and collapsing into the couch cushions, you didn’t know what to make of that. Picking up the stuffed narwhal, you hugged it to your chest, your eyes closing. Half of you wanted to be pissed that he’d been listening in without your knowledge, wondering if he’d been doing that often, but the other half of you was touched. It may not have been a grand gesture, but it was a gesture that clearly meant something. But what exactly still remained to be seen.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon

The tags aren't working for some and I'm not entirely sure why (could be a settings issue or just tumblr being annoying, I'm sorry!)

#IT'S HERE EVERYONE IT'S HERE #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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This is what I look like fighting the urge to begin every single Matt Murdock x Reader with a meetcute

#IT'S THE EASIEST WAY TO OPEN UP A FIC #AND GET THAT WORD COUNT UP #word count means a lot to me sorry #not writing

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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By the way I've seen all your asks/requests!! I'll be writing them out whenever I get the free time, I just finished a mini-thesis and I'm in a content-heavy history unit so I need to put my energies into that. Thank you for your patience and all the requests for more of my work, it means a lot to me 🥹

#I'm working toward a BA in history btw :3 #0ctober lore #not writing

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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Calling sub transfem Matt Murdock your pretty princess while you ride her cock? She’s just been so stressed lately and you want her to feel loved <3

GOD YES. I'll explore this more when I'm not tired but. Here's a drabble for now:

Lifting yourself up and down on Matt's cock, going at a torturously slow pace. The whole time she's whimpering and whining for you to speed up, please can you please go faster, she'll do anything. Instead you gently shush her and card your fingers through her hair like you're lovingly petting a dog, sending shivers down her spine. She closes her eyes and whimpers again.

“That's my girl, such a pretty princess," you coo at her. The sudden petname has her gasping and her cock twitching inside of you. She reaches for your hips, desperate to force you to go faster, but you beat her to it and pin her hands back down. She needs this, you tell her, she needs to let go and be taken care of. Finally she gives in, nodding her head and pathetically mewling when you tell her how much you love her.

#ask #request?#transfem!matt mutdock #trans!matt murdock #sub!matt murdock #sub!matt murdock x reader #sub matt murdock #sub matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock smut

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

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Lizzi's Kinktober 2023

Day 14: Pain Kink

October 29th, 2023

Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: You discover that it turns Matt on when you push down on his bruises.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ MINORS DNI), pain kink, unprotected p in v, mention of injury and blood, slight sub!Matt

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/n: I'm not sure if this is kinky enough.

He has been in worse shape.

That is the one sentence you try to tell yourself every time he comes home with a new battle scar that needs to be taken care of.

Matt has been in worse shape, so he will be okay. It offers you a little solace from the truth, and if it helps you, it helps him.

When he knocked on your window in the middle of the night, you expected the worst. Usually, he calls before he comes over, especially when he is out on patrol.

You opened the window to let him in, your eyes full of concern. You figure he must have heard your heartbeat because he reached for your shoulders, his lips curving into a smile. “It’s just a few cuts and bruises,” he assured you.

It took you one good look at him though to convince yourself that he isn’t seriously hurt.

Every night he goes out, you worry. You worry he might not make it back to you. Whenever he does, you thank whatever God he believes in and then some for bringing him back to you. And you thank him for only being a little reckless and surviving whatever he put himself through.

When Matt told you that he only received a few cuts and bruises, he meant more than just a scratch, but nothing life-threatening. It is nothing that you can’t handle with some disinfectant and a first-aid kit.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he breaks the silence that had befallen you. “I could have patched myself up. I just… I needed to see you.”

You stop cleaning the nasty cut on the right side of his chest. You meet his unfocused eyes. The small he carries is tired, but it is genuine. You know he means what he said. He needed to see you, and now that he has, he doesn’t want to leave.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” is all you can answer.

Your eyes flick to his bruised ribs and the shallow cuts that must have been made by a jagged knife; he got lucky that he encountered an amateur this time. Well, he is as okay as he can be.

Matt smiles back at you. “I’m okay,” he says.

You move from his chest to the last cut on his ribs. On your way though, you accidentally brush over one of his bruises. He sucks in a sharp breath.

Your face falls in shock. “I’m sorry!” you say. You want to smooth over the ache, but you’re not quite sure how to salvage a bruised rib.

He pats your hand as if to reassure you. “It’s fine.”

Though when you look up at him, your shock changes into something else. He may have hissed in pain, but the look in his eyes… It is familiar in an entirely different way. It can’t be, can it? This isn’t the first time you’ve patched him up, and certainly not the first time he has been in pain. But you know that look. You know that look better than anything because it is a look only reserved for you.

You don’t say it out loud. Instead, you brush your fingertips over the bruise again, just enough to make him feel it.

Matt sucks in another sharp breath. This time, his hand shoots out and he catches your wrist. The look in his eyes resembles a warning. “Don’t,” he says.

You tilt your head. One glance down at his clothed crotch and you can see his cock starting to harden through his thin boxer briefs. He isn’t wearing anything else.

“Matt,” you say, your voice quiet yet stern as you pull your hand from him.

His blush deepens. “Sweetheart, I swear to God. If you–”

He doesn’t even get to finish. You tasted blood, and now you need more. The sight of his stiffening cock is one thing, but his flushed cheeks, his dilated pupils, and the way he looks at you without actually looking at you make your core pulsate with a need you haven’t felt in a while, but he surely is the only one that can make you feel so awfully needy.

You straddle him. The way he sucks in a sharp breath tells you that he can smell the wetness that has started to gather in your underwear just from seeing him half-naked on that chair, bloody and bruised. You feel bad, but at the same time, you don’t. You have never been the kind of person to feel ashamed for finding him delicious. And you’re certainly not sorry for being obsessed with him.

“You swear to God?” you pur. Your fingers tangle in his sweaty hair.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Sweetheart,” he says again, his tone turning even more warning, but you know he won’t take control.

He took control the whole night, and now he feels like he failed. He did so well, he got hurt, and still, he feels like he failed. He needs someone to take care of him tonight. Someone to take charge so he won’t have to.

Who are you to deny him this unspoken desire that you can see reflected in every fiber of his being as his hands slowly come to rest on your hips, unsure yet confident at the same time?

You brush your fingers over the bruise on his ribs again, a little firmer this time. His hiss turns into a grunt. His cock jumps against your clothed core. It’s just your panties and his shirt, but any fabric is too much fabric separating you.

“Do you like it when I do that?” you ask.

He bites his tongue. Matt has never been too open about his needs.

“Tell me, baby.” You brush over the bruise over and over again. You need him to break, to tell you he wants this just as much as you do.

He almost howls when you apply full pressure, the pain shooting straight to his cock. “Yes,” he chokes out. “Fuck, yes. I–” He bites his lip, but the whimper escapes anyway.

“Good boy. I can work with that.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I know,” you shush him with your finger against his lips. “I want to.”

You pull down his boxers. His cock is so hard, it’s already leaking pre-cum, and you just started touching him. He isn’t going to last long.

“I want you to let yourself go,” you tell him. “I’m going to fuck you, and you are not going to worry about anything but your own pleasure.”

His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to object, but you kiss him to shut him up. He moans into your mouth. He melts like ice cream between your fingers.

With one swift flick of the wrist, you have pulled your panties off, tossing them into a corner of the living room. Matt doesn’t have the time to comprehend what’s happening. Your arousal hits his nose full-on, and he groans when he can taste the particles in the air. For a moment, he wonders if he has finally gone to hell, but then you sink down on his cock, and he is sure that this isn’t hell… It’s heaven.

He throws his head back far enough for your lips to find the bare skin of his neck, just below his stubble, and you suction your lips around his pulse point.

You ride him with a purpose. The walls of your cunt grip his cock so tightly, he feels like he’s falling with no ground to land on. His nails dig into your bare thighs, searching for something to hold onto, but it isn’t enough.

You wrap your hand around his neck. His pulse jumps. Your other hand comes to rest on his ribs, right above his bruise. It rests, but it applies pressure, and he feels the pain all over. His nerves are on fire.

Matt lets out a needy moan. The most beautiful sound known to moan is the sound of his pleasure. It is a choir. It is a symphony. You never grow tired of hearing him sound so wrecked under your touch.

Your body is his way to redemption, and you are offering him your hand. You are the only good thing left on this earth. He would worship at your feet any day because he knows that when he’s with you, even hell can feel like heaven. You’re the one thing pulling him away from the edge and offering him a light at the end of the tunnel.

“That’s it,” you breathe. “You’ve been working so hard, baby. You deserve this. You’ve been such a good boy, and good boys need to be taken care of.”

With every movement of your hips, he fills you up just right. The head of his cock brushes your g-spot. It takes everything in you not to let the pleasure take you away. This is about him, but it’s hard not to be selfish when he feels so good inside of you. When his cum feels like the one thing sustaining you on a night like this, and you need it all. You need him to fill you up until he is oozing out of you.

But this isn’t about you. This is about him. You have to remind yourself of that.

Matt yanks you down, his lips desperately seeking yours. It comes as no surprise to you. The muscles in his arms are straining. He’s panting, and the blush has traveled from his cheeks to his chest. He is so close, he could burst any second now.

“I love you,” he breathes into your mouth, injecting the sweet confession into your bloodstream. “I love you so fucking much.” And it is only when he is reaching the pinnacle of pleasure that he swears like a sailor.

You brush the hair out of his face. You kiss him again. Teeth and tongues clash.

“I know,” you breathe back. “I love you too.”

He bites down on your bottom lip.

“Come for me, Matthew.” That’s all it takes for him to wrap both of his arms around you, his lips parting in a loud moan as his head drops to your shoulder, and he comes.

Your hips stutter, halting in an instant. His cum spurts into you. You can feel him so deep, as deep as he can possibly get, as his orgasm ripples through him and shakes his world. He’s quivering in your arms. There is nowhere for him to land, he just continues to fall, and the noises he makes send you over the edge within seconds after him.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable.

“Did you–” Matt begins.

You nod. “Don’t worry about that right now,” you say. “Just… breathe.”

You stay in each other’s arms for a while, his cum leaking out of you, but you couldn’t care less.

You break the silence to ask, “You okay?”

He takes another deep breath. “Yeah,” he answers. “I’m okay.”

“And your bruise?” You refrain from touching it.

“Trust me,” he kisses you, “A bruise has never been so worth it.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @ravenclaw617 @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch

Also tagging: @blackshadowswriter @1988-fiend

#MASOCHIST MATT MURDOCK MASOCHIST MATT MURDOCK MASOCHIST MATT MURDOCK MASOC #sub!matt murdock x reader #sub!matt murdock

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0ctober-writes · 6 months

Note

heyy!! how are you? I love your writing!! could you please do some sub!matt murdock headcannons? 🥺 (I cant express how much I'd love to turn this man into a beggin mess)

hii again lovie!! im doing well ty, how are you? and thank you so much!! 🫶 ofc ofc! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌 and apologies for the delay

—

SUB MATT HC’s

matt murdock x f!reader

word count. <300

warnings. 18+ only!! couple descriptions. mdni

— he's a different person when he's submissive. when dom, he's grunting, slapping (?) praising. but when he's sub, he's whiney and handsy, pleads and begs a little. he makes these half-breath-like noises. they're kinda strangled and choked🫠

— if you're riding him (slowly) his hands would paw at your thighs and waist, squeezing and digging in bc you're teasing him too much. he gets a tad overwhelmed with the slow pace. the way his cock drags from you at such an excruciating speed ??!!??? makes the back of his head burrow into the pillow - he gets all annoyed, and frustrated

— his reactions and noises would probs fluff your ego, the way he'd buck his hips up into you, wanting more - whimpering and pleading for you to stop being a tease

— his hair gets all tousled, and he pants and makes these really fucking hot whimpering sigh sounds :((

— dirty talker, even when sub's. he's a natural at it, and it just slips out

— he's very sensitive when subbing, especially to touch. you know his pleasure spots and where likes being touched - a light stroke on the thigh, a nibble on his ear lobe, a hesitant kiss to his lips. he likes the tension, and the longing of it, but he might not admit it though

— every once in a while he enjoys receiving princess treatment - to be kissed, admired, worshipped. he likes giving it to you, but sometimes it's a nice change of pace, and it's often needed (like after a bad patrol)

— just had an idea - maybe if were 69ing, you'd keep yourself perched higher so he can't reach you. he’s so close to be able to eat you out, but just so far. maybe you have him cuffed to the bed just to tease him that bit more

— he can only sub for so long. he lets you have your 'fun' before wanting to switch

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

matt taglist @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @simplyreflected @kinglokisqueen4ever

#sub!matt murdock x reader #sub!matt murdock #matt murdock x reader

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0ctober-writes · 7 months

Text

Ghost songfic or She Wants Revenge songfic??

#i want religious trauma #i want catholic guilt #mmmm yummy

0 notes

0ctober-writes · 7 months

Text

Seeing Matt absolutely break down after doing what he did to Reader

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Five]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: The part you've probably all been waiting for is finally here and I'm dying to see reactions to this one! Also, I have no idea why tags aren't working for a couple of you, I tried a few times to get them to work but I blame tumblr, I'm sorry! As always, Feedback is always appreciated!

Lying in bed with your sheets pulled up to your chin, it felt like the entire room around you was spinning. Even with your eyes clamped tightly shut, you could feel that uncomfortable churning in your stomach, that dizzying sensation making it feel like your bed was rocking back and forth on the ocean. You’d been lying there for at least a half an hour now, practically begging the higher powers above to give you just one night where you could fall straight to sleep without feeling like you were going to be sick.

Your morning sickness had only gotten worse now that you were entering the ninth week. And you absolutely hated the deceiving term of 'morning sickness' considering the fact that you’d thrown up a handful of times over the past few days now, and most of those times were not in the morning. It affected you on and off throughout the day, and almost always hitting you as you were relaxing and trying to fall asleep.

That telltale feeling quickly began to creep back up on you, your saliva pooling in your mouth. You winced, groaning and burying your face into your pillow as you swallowed, hoping to stop what was about to come. But the saliva only pooled more along your tongue as you felt your stomach give an uncomfortable lurch. The contents within it abruptly surged their way upwards with barely any warning.

Kicking your sheets off of yourself, you tossed your legs over the side of your bed. You threw a hand over your mouth as you hurried out of the bedroom, racing across the hall to your bathroom. You’d barely managed to flip the light on before dropping down to your knees in front of your toilet. Lifting the seat up and lowering your face above the bowl, you began to violently empty your stomach.

By the time you’d finished retching, you pathetically slumped on the floor before the toilet, running a hand across your sweat-dampened forehead. Groaning miserably, your eyes closed as you cringed at the disgusting taste in your mouth. Though thankfully the longer you sat on the cool tile of your bathroom floor, the more your nausea and dizziness began to subside.

“This is such bullshit,” you moaned to yourself. “Why does every part of this have to be so awful?”

It was a few minutes that you sat hunched on the floor in front of the toilet before you finally felt like you weren’t going to be sick again. Gradually you pushed yourself up from the bathroom floor, making your way over to your sink. Picking up your toothbrush from its holder, you got it wet and covered it in toothpaste before you began to vigorously brush the disgusting taste from your mouth. At least now that you’d gotten sick and gotten that out of your system, you could hopefully get comfortable in bed and fall asleep this time. That’s how things had gone the last few nights at least; the nausea seemed to disappear once you finally got sick.

Finished brushing your teeth, you rinsed off your toothbrush and put it away. After, you turned off the faucet and dried your face and hands on the nearby towel. Exhausted, you stepped out of the bathroom, flipping off the light as you went, but you’d barely reached your bedroom before you froze at the sound of your name being spoken through the silence of your apartment.

Fear shot through you immediately, the hair bristling on the back of your neck as you spun on your heel. A soft, surprised gasp slipped out of your lips when you spotted Daredevil standing just at the edge of your hallway, the faint light trickling past the curtain-covered windows in your living room casting dark shadows across his masked face.

You stood there in shock for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that Matt was even here in your apartment. He’d called you again just earlier today, but you’d once again refused to answer your phone for him. And now here he was, just letting himself into your apartment like he always used to do. As if he was still welcome here. The thought of that had your anger soon reigniting within you, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You saw the way Matt stiffened in response, clearly picking up on the sudden shift in your mood.

“So you think you can just break into my apartment now, do you?” you hissed. “After everything?”

“I came here to talk,” he replied, an edge to his tone. “Because you certainly weren’t answering your phone. I’ve been trying to call you for weeks.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you, your arms coming to cross over your chest in agitation. You ignored the way your breasts ached at the gesture, too angry to care about that.

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after the way you ended things,” you shot back. “Maybe that’s why I wasn’t answering your calls, Matthew .”

The corner of his lip curled back at your words and the way you’d shot his full name out at him, as if it had physically hurt him as he winced in pain. Good, you hoped the bite in your words hurt. He deserved it after how he’d hurt you.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you saw him close it again almost immediately. His head canted to the side, the gesture which you knew meant he’d picked up on something with his senses. A different kind of fear rippled through you next, wondering just what he’d noticed.

“Are you sick?” he asked, his tone softening.

You scoffed at the question, shaking your head. So he’d noticed you’d been throwing up. You hoped the smell of your sick lingering in the air would send him away. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have right now; all you wanted to do was go to sleep. You were exhausted from your work week on top of everything else, you didn’t need a vigilante ex-boyfriend breaking and entering on a Thursday night just to fight with you.

“No, I’m not sick,” you snapped. “Not that you’d care anyway.”

“Of course I’d care,” he immediately disagreed.

“Sure as shit didn’t care when you ended things,” you spat back. “Couldn’t care enough to give me a single evening of your time. So don't tell me you suddenly care now, Matthew .”

Matt’s body went rigid, something dark crossing his masked features. A bit of the Devil was peeking through right now, you could see that. Because you’d touched a nerve of some sort.

“I wasn’t the one who ended things,” he replied, his voice rough and low. “ You did that. I came here to apologize for how I’d treated you that night and for all those times I’d broken promises to you. That’s why I’m here.”

Your brows shot up onto your forehead in shock, your mouth falling open. He thought you had ended things? With everything he’d been doing, all the promises he’d broken and the way he’d slammed that door on his way out that night–he had the audacity to claim you broke up with him ? Your fury only coiled tighter as you glared back at Matt, shoulders squaring as you held your ground, desperate to unleash the pain you’d been holding back for weeks.

“ I didn’t end the relationship, Matt,” you retorted, tears brimming in your eyes. “That was entirely on you when you chose to walk out that goddamn door and put Hell’s Kitchen over me. Like you did night after fucking night. For weeks . Because that’s all you fucking care about, isn’t it? This goddamn city. When it comes right down to it, you’d choose this city over me. That’s what you proved to me, Matthew."

Inhaling a sharp breath as you saw his lips thin out along his face at your accusation, you realized you couldn’t stop the words that were about to come flying out of you. Because for weeks now you'd wanted to hurl them at him like knives, hoping they’d hit their mark and wound him.

“You did this, Matthew,” you growled, pointing a firm, accusatory finger at his chest as that rage and pain finally loosed itself on your tongue. “You abandoned me–abandoned us . That is on you.”

“I didn’t abandon–” he began, stopping almost instantly.

His head yet again canted to the side and you swore you could almost hear his thoughts suddenly racing.

“What?” he asked sharply. “ Us ?”

There was a pause that followed his question, Matt’s entire body frozen on the spot–until his head abruptly shifted. You watched as his head tilted a few different times in confusion, his lips twisting beneath the hard line of his mask. And then the red lenses of his mask finally found their focus–fixed on your abdomen. His mouth fell open in shock as he stood there speechless, the tension quickly leaving his body as if he'd lost all of his fight in that instant.

"You're–you're pregnant?" he breathed out.

"Yes, I am," you answered.

As he continued to openly gawk, your arms lowered, wrapping protectively over your stomach. Matt took a cautious, hesitant step towards you, his gloved hand reaching out. Though he promptly stopped himself in his tracks, his hand frozen and left hovering between the pair of you.

"Why did you never say anything?" he asked softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A humorless bark of laughter flew out of you at that. What a ridiculous question to ask. As if you hadn't made an attempt to tell him.

"I tried to tell you," you said bitterly. "That night I practically begged you to stay with me, Matt. The night you walked out that door and chose Hell’s Kitchen instead. After that, I hadn't been able to bring myself to talk to you. Couldn’t look at you and tell you."

His hand that had been hovering in the space between you both continued its way up, pulling the mask from his head and revealing his stunned expression and mussed hair. There wasn't an ounce of anger anywhere on his features in the dark, his sightless eyes still fixed on your abdomen. Most likely tuned into the small, fast heartbeat there.

"I–I didn't know," he choked out, shaking his head. "I am… so sorry, sweetheart."

"Don't," you warned him, eyes narrowing. "Don't call me that, Matt. I'm not your sweetheart ," you bit out. "I'm not any of that to you anymore."

Matt visibly shrunk back, wincing at your words. His gloved hands nervously fidgeted with the mask he held between them both as you saw his throat bob with a hard swallow.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, his face contorting with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I was–was such an asshole. You didn't deserve that. Any of it."

"No, I didn't," you agreed. "You turned into a different person, Matt. One I didn't recognize. But maybe that’s who you really are."

"I thought you were trying to give me an ultimatum," he confessed, his voice tight with emotion. "That night. That's what I thought. That you were going to tell me I had to pick you or Daredevil and I–I was hurt and angry. Because I thought you knew I couldn't give that part of myself up completely. I thought you’d accepted that side of me."

"I would never have done that," you told him. "You certainly need to learn how to compromise and how to figure out what is truly a priority, Matt, but I would never have forced you to choose one or the other. Because I loved you for all of you. I'd always told you that."

"I know, you're right," he said, nodding quickly as he took another step closer. "I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I fucked up, I know I did. And I'm sorry. So incredibly sorry. You deserve better and I want to make it up to you. To fix things."

You shook your head, taking a step back from Matt. His face fell instantly at the physical distance, his eyes pinching tight.

"You can't fix this, Matt," you told him, waving a hand between the pair of you. "You walked out on me–on us. You'd been breaking promise after promise to me for weeks. I don't trust you anymore, don't you get that?"

"What do you mean?" he whispered, his face twisting in pained confusion. "Of course you can trust me. I love you. I'd never hurt you. Either of you."

You grimaced at the way he said he loved you, your heart constricting in your chest. What you wouldn't give for the situation to be different, to be able to have those words not feel like shards of glass tearing you open as they came out of his mouth.

"I don't trust that you'll do what you say," you countered. "I don't trust that you'll be there for me when I need you. I don't trust that anything else could ever mean more to you than this city, Matt. We would only ever come second, and that's not enough."

In the dim light coming from your living room windows behind Matt, you could see the glisten of tears in his eyes. His face further scrunched up as he tried to fight back his tears, roughly shaking his head at you.

"That's not true," he said softly, the words breaking. "That could never be true."

He sniffled loudly, the sound shattering your heart even further. As angry as you'd been at him and as much as you'd wanted to hurt him for weeks now, actually seeing him so emotionally distraught didn't make you feel any better. If anything you just felt worse about this entire disappointing situation. His actions had only left you both broken and lonely.

"I'd never pick anything before you or my own child," he assured you. " Never ."

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, the warmth of them a noticeable contrast to the cool air of your apartment. Your arms hugged your abdomen tighter as your lips trembled.

"I don't believe you, Matt," you whispered.

His face tightened further, a choked sob falling out of him. You grimaced at the sight, your own tears starting to fall faster. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again right now having this conversation. Having to tell him the things you knew you needed to.

"I would never keep you from your child, Matt," you began slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, "but I'll be the one raising this baby. Alone."

"No," he disagreed quickly, shaking his head at you. "No, don't say that. You won't do this alone. I want to be here for you. I want to be a part of this. To do this together ."

Jaw tightening, your fingers gripped the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. You wanted that, you really did, but not after what he’d put you through for the past few weeks. You couldn’t handle navigating pregnancy and raising a young child with a father who was unreliable, always in and out of the picture at their own leisure. That would only make things worse, and it would only hurt you and eventually this child more.

“We can’t, Matt,” you said, forcing the words out. “I can’t depend on you. And if I can’t depend on you–if I can’t trust that you’ll be there when we need you–then I don’t want that. Because you’ll only cause more pain.”

You bit your lip, struggling to get the words out as you watched Matt crumple to his knees before you. He was openly weeping now, each strangled sob only causing your heart to ache further. There was no pleasure to be gained in watching how broken he looked right now, bent in half on his knees before you with tears streaming down his face, but you knew this was what you needed to do.

“If the responsibilities of a committed relationship were already too much for you,” you continued, voice cracking on a few words, “then I don’t think you’re ready to be a father, Matt. Not like that. Not now, at least.”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he choked out. “Please.”

Eyes snapping shut at his plea, you couldn’t look at him as you forced yourself to finish what you knew you had to tell him. It was for the best in the end.

“I’m nine weeks along,” you told him, eyes still clamped shut. “So there’s–there’s not really anything for you to be a part of at the moment, Matt.” Swallowing hard, you tried to ignore the way it felt like someone was squeezing your heart. “I don’t need your help with anything. And maybe–maybe farther along we can set something up for you to occasionally hear the baby or feel their movements, but until they’re born…there’s not really anything more for you here right now.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please don’t say that. I’ll fix this! I promise I’ll fix it!”

You swiftly turned around, burying your face in your hands. Telling Matt all of this pained you far more than you imagined it would. It didn’t help that there was a small part of you that felt like you might’ve been making a mistake. That somewhere in the back of your mind there was a small voice wanting you to turn back around and give him another chance. To let him try to prove himself. To see if he could fix things.

But you ignored that voice, shoving it far away. He’d walked out on you. What you were doing now was not the same.

“Please leave, Matt,” you whispered.

You didn’t wait for a response before you stepped into your bedroom, closing the door behind you and hurrying over to your bed. Climbing into it, you threw the blankets over yourself, burying your face in the pillow and trying to muffle the sound of your crying. In the hallway you heard Matt slowly rise to his feet, his sobs still audible to you in the bedroom. But he didn’t follow after you. Instead, you heard him make his way out to your living room, sliding a window open as he stepped out onto your fire escape. Then you heard the soft thump of your window closing after him.

That’s when you let yourself openly weep, crying into your pillow until you eventually cried yourself to sleep.

Furious at himself, Matt slammed the door to his roof access behind himself with a sharp bang that echoed loudly throughout his apartment. Tearing his helmet from off of his head, he stormed over to the stairs before he stomped his way down them, his boots landing with a heavy thud along each step. At the bottom, overcome with sheer rage, he threw his helmet forcefully from his hands with a roar. He heard the way it flew across the room and skidded along the floor before slamming loudly into the radiator.

Matt began to tear his gloves from his hands after, his chest heaving with fury and shame and despair. He threw each glove roughly onto the floor next beside his boots, pissed at himself. Pissed at Daredevil. Pissed at everything.

You were pregnant. That’s what you’d been wanting to tell him that night. And like the fucking piece of shit he was–self-sabotaging as Foggy always told him–he’d yelled at you. Pushed you away. Abandoned you. And all you’d wanted was him. For him to be there for you.

And he hadn’t even given you something so goddamn simple as that.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly.

In his agitation, he began to pace the length of his apartment like a feral cat. His hands were in his hair, roughly tugging at the strands as more tears slipped down his cheeks. He had fucked things up far more than he’d realized. But knowing that you were carrying his child? How was he supposed to let that go?

He loved you. Truthfully he loved you more than the city he swore to protect, even if he’d been an absolute asshole when it came to showing that to you lately. Because you were right. His actions hadn’t shown that you were his priority.

With an enraged growl Matt’s hands darted out, grabbing onto his kitchen table and violently flipping it over. Everything on it clattered noisily to the floor, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was fuming and too far gone in his thoughts. He could feel the Devil’s wrath inside of himself, begging him to be released. He could hear the Devil’s voice telling him that he did this to himself. That he got what he deserved. That he’d never be good enough for you or anyone. That he’d be a terrible father.

Gritting his teeth roughly together, his breathing came in sharp and hard. His hands landed on his hips as his eyes clamped shut, the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he tried to quiet that voice in his head.

Because no. That was wrong.

Exhaling a rough breath, he tried to regain his composure. You deserved better, that was true. He hadn’t been treating you the way he should’ve been before things had ended. That was on him. But you and his unborn child deserved better. And he was going to give you both that.

So that’s what he would do. He’d find a way to fix things. To prove how wrong you were about him not wanting to be a father and about him not loving you more than Hell’s Kitchen. To find a way to get you to trust him again, feel capable of depending on him. And while he knew he couldn’t give up the Devil, he knew he could learn to compromise. To truly be there for you. And he’d do whatever it took for however long it took for you to trust him again. Because you and that baby were his family.

You and that baby were his.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst

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