#father matt murdock x reader

[brianwashere]

saw requests were open so might as well request :p ; imagine being peter parker’s younger brother that also has spider powers and during the snap peter turn dust so most likely aunt may did as well. So reader was most likely homeless for a while until matt murdock comes in as daredevil and becomes a father figure for the reader :)

Kicking my feet and giggling. I haven’t got a req in so long and I love getting them so this made me very happy. So sorry the ending is abrupt I really wanted to get this posted!

If anyone wants another part to this I will write more!

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from Daredevil or Marvel**

Paining: Matt Murdock/Daredevil x Male!Teen!Spider!Reader

Genre: family stuff(?) it’s all light hearted

Summary: look at req

Tw: a bit of language, probably; Matt punches reader on accident lmao

Fear’s corner

You seemed to only be scared these past few months. You were scared when you watched your brother climb aboard that flying alien donut. You were scared when you lost connection to his com and phone.

You were scared when you held your Aunt May and watched her turn to dust.

You were scared when the landlord kicked you out and called CPS after she realized you couldn’t pay rent.

It had been two months living on the streets. Two months starving; two months waiting for Peter to come home. Deep down you knew he’d suffered the same fate as Aunt May.

The cold winter winds rattled your bones and caused you to pull the threadbare ski jacket closer to your body. You shivered and kept moving down the street.

Tonight was a shitty night. You never stopped your spidey-work because you knew if Peter was here he’d want you to continue. Tonight was too cold for it, the suit doesn’t exactly provide thermal insulation, and the suit that was a gift from Mr. Stark was only for emergencies.

As you wandered through Hell’s Kitchen you searched for any grocery stores or restaurants with accessible dumpsters so that you could dig through and find food. You squinted at the sign of a large glass door entrance and saw it was a grocery store.

Jackpot.

Walking around to the dumpster, you took a running start and scaled the wall, not so gracefully landing on top of the dumpster.

You grabbed one of the two lids and threw it over. The heavy black plastic banged against the green rusted metal and you cringed.

The black bags seemed to taunt you, reminding you of how low you’ve sunk in only two months. You shook your head and jumped down, beginning to tear through garbage bags upon garbage bags.

You found an unopened granola bar and ripped the packing open, gobbling it down without another thought. You gulped heavily, pushing the last of the granola down and taking a large gasp of air. You got back to searching for more food.

That’s when you got the feeling. Your spidey-senses were tingling. You grabbed ledge of the dumpster and threw yourself over. A man in a red suit with devil horns landed in front of you. Stumbling back, your back hit the brick wall of the dumpster.

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” He said collectedly.

You gulped and easily jumped over the brick wall, taking off in a sprint.

“Hey, wait! Hold on!” The man called.

You sprinted even faster, any stranger chasing you and telling you to ‘hold on’ was an automatic threat.

You could hear footsteps following you.

‘Holy shit. This guy’s fast.’

You ran down the dark streets, trying to find somewhere to get up higher. You turned down a pitch black alleyway and jumped onto a fire escape, scaling it as fast as you could. You grabbed the ledge of the building and dragged yourself over it, gasping for breath.

Two red boots blocked your vision and you shot up. The man punched you right in the eye before gasping suddenly and gripping your hoodie.

“Jesus, you’re just a kid, aren’t you?” The question was more rhetorical but you shook your head ‘no’ anyway.

He didn’t need to know your age or that you were on your own. You began to flail to get away but air wasn’t reaching your lungs. The man let you go and you broke into a coughing fit. Collapsing to the ground, you wheezed for breath, desperate for air.

“Hey, hey kid, breathe. Breathe. In and out.” He spoke softly to you.

You followed his instructions and realized there was a weight on your back. This stranger was rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“There you go, just calm down, Kid.” He comforted.

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from the first positive touch you’d had in a while.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” The vigilante asked.

You shook your head, seeming to forget that you shouldn’t be telling him this. He sucked in a breath.

“I know someone I can take you to, ok?” The devil said quietly; silently asking if you would go.

You just nodded pathetically. Trying to get up was very wobbly for you. The man helped steady you though.

“You’re in no condition to jump rooftop to rooftop,” He said, seemingly to himself. “We’ll walk instead.”

You just shrugged half-heartedly, suddenly feeling very tired. You met his mask and he gestured near the ladder expectantly. You raised an eyebrow at him but began your descent down the fire escape.

You finally reached the point where you could jump off. You landed on your feet, but your knees buckled and you fell back. The man was standing over you in a second. He reminded you of Peter some.

Peter would always be the first one by your side if he thought you were hurt.

You stood up slowly and dusted yourself off.

“Follow me.” The red man instructed.

You caught up to walking beside him. You glanced around the buildings and cleared your throat.

“So uh…what’s your deal, huh? You just go around finding homeless kids to shove into randos’ homes?” You asked, trying to fill the void noise.

He seemed surprised you could talk and fumbled over his words.

“I am Daredevil, protector of Hell’s Kitchen.” He stated.

“Wow.” You said, unimpressed. “So is that like—the full name or is it just Daredevil?” You teased.

He huffed out a laugh, seeming to realize the ridiculousness of his introduction.

“Just Daredevil.” He smiled.

You nodded some.

“So this ‘guy’ you know…is he like..some foster care guy…?” You really didn’t wanna go into the system; you’d met other homeless kids who had ran away from their foster families because of how awful it was.

“…no. Would you rather he be?” Daredevil responded.

“Hell no. I think I’d rather die.” You laughed some.

The silence was more than slightly awkward. You cleared your throat. Your eye throbbed.

“Soooo…why’d you punch me?” You swung your arms back and forth.

He choked at that.

“Thought you were a criminal. And an adult. Most people don’t run unless they’re guilty.” Daredevil explained.

You hummed in acknowledgement. It was his turn to ask questions now.

“So how’d you just…jump that wall like that?” He asked.

“Oh uhhhh. Parkour…?” You tried.

The red man nodded some, though he didn’t look at all convinced.

The rest of the walk went well. He stopped at an apartment complex and buzzed in.

“Fourth floor. Room 14.” He stated before running off.

You raised your eyebrows as you watched him scurry off.

‘What a weird guy.’

You just shook your head and began your ascent to the fourth floor.

When you got to the fourth floor and room 14 you paused, hearing various crashes and curses. A few seconds later the door opened and a scruffy looking man appeared. He was dressed in a wrinkly t-shirt and pair of sweatpants; he was staring right over you.

You started to regret coming into the apartment complex.

“Uh…the devil guy told me to come here.” You stated.

He blinked and his face morphed into one of what you supposed to be surprise. It more just looked like over exaggerated confusion.

“Yeah come in,” the brown haired man opened the door wider for you to pass through. “I’m Matt. Matt Murdock.” He said with a smile.

“Yeah…so you’re uh…some kinda—“ You made a vague, random gesture with your hands.

Matt just blinked and waited for the end of your sentence. It was then you noticed his eyes didn’t actually track and movement or shifts of light.

“Forgive me for asking, but are you blind?” You attempted to ask politely.

At that he cracked another smile and laughed some.

“Indeed I am. I hope that won’t be much on a problem.” Matt grinned at you.

“No! No of course not!” You rushed to explain, at which he laughed more.

“Calm down, Kid—“ The rest of his sentence faded out as you zoned in on those three words.

The words that had been uttered to you not half an hour before. By the same voice. Matt seemed to catch on that something was wrong.

“Everything alright, Kid?” He asked concerned.

“You’re Daredevil, aren’t you?” You swallowed thickly.

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

“No? Why would you say that? Why would I even know Daredevil?“ Daredevil started.

“Your voice is the exact same as his. And you’re the only one who’s ever called me ‘Kid’ before.” You explained.

He pursed his lips, looking more disappointed in himself than anything else.

“Yeah I’m—I’m Daredevil.” He awkwardly stated.

“So…you’re not really blind?” You knit your brows together.

“No, I’m blind it’s just that I can—it’s hard to explain, let’s just get you settled in for now.” He changed the subject.

It left you more confused but you supposed you had no better option but to agree. You hadn’t slept on anything remotely related to a couch in two months and you couldn’t wait to get the best night’s sleep of your life.

#marvel x male reader #matt murdock x reader #male reader #fanfic #fanfic writing #marvel #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x male reader #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x teen!reader #daredevil x son!reader #father matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x son reader #matt murdock x male reader #spider!reader #Matt Murdock x spider!reader #daredevil x spider!reader

[teacupcollector]

Playlists

Should I make Playlists for some of the fic series I have made? I just listened to a song that reminded me of “Loki and His Follower” So I was wondering if that would be something anyone would be interested in. This may also get me out of a writers block for some of these! Feel free to send in music you think I might like as well!

Here are some Series that I have ideas for: Rebel (Father Matt Murdock x Reader x Father Figure Frank Castle)

Loki and His Follower (Loki Laufeyson x Reader)

My Missing Piece (Peter Parker x Autistic Reader) A Helping Hand (Joel Miller x Pregnant Reader)

The Undead Kind of Love (Vampire Bucky x Reader)

#father daughter angst #father matt murdock #father figure frank castle #father matt murdock x reader #father figure frank castle x reader #loki #Loki Laufeyson #Matt Murdock #frank castle #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x autistic reader #spiderman #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #vampire bucky barnes #vampire bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes

[angelyuji]

what romance trope would they have?

characters: miguel o’hara, matt murdock, father paul hill, peter parker (any live action), natasha romanov, regulus black, harley quinn [all x gn!reader]

warnings: angst... idk... none really lol kinda cute too kinda idk im insecure about my writing

this is non-yandere sawry guys, also when i started this, i started with miguel so his kinda almost ended up being the shortest cuz i got inspiration halfway through lol and also mixed styles of writing for each character becuz the one thing i am not is consistent.

each character is written in order as listed above saur if you're looking for characters near the end of the list, you're gonna have to scroll... sorry

miguel o’hara: unrequited love

miguel had been on a mission on another earth when he had seen you. you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. with one glance, he had felt things he hadn’t felt since… since he lost everything. he came to see you every day, never talking to you, but watching you from a far. he knew better than to disrupt your life, he knew better than to disrupt the timeline. he watched and loved and protected you, like a guardian angel.

“you’ve been watching that screen for a long time.” jessica comments, giving miguel a knowing stare.

“it’s nothing.” he’s short with her. he knew she’d get it, but she would also try to talk some sense into him. he knows that it can’t happen. everything he touches, he ruins.

“miguel. i don’t know what you’re doing, but as your… friend, i know that this isn’t healthy.” jessica places a hand on his shoulder, he brushes her off.

“i’m not doing anything that needs to be worried about. i’ve sent you a mission.” he hears jessica sigh before leaving him alone in solitude.

he felt better knowing that he was protecting you and keeping you safe, but he knew that it would end. even with the sense of foreboding lingering in the back of his mind, he fell deeper and deeper for you. for your kindness, for your beauty, for your silly laughs and stupid jokes. he loves you more and more with every visit. but then he saw it, he saw the end.

“hey parker.” you pull your earth’s peter into a hug, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i love you.” you tangle your hands in peter’s hair as you both kiss, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i know you’ll always protect me, peter.” peter wraps an arm around your waist and you both fly through the city, miguel feels himself shatter.

he watched as you met peter parker, he watched as you fell in love, he watched as you stopped needing him. he knew that it was never meant to be, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

matt murdock: right person, wrong time

you and matt clicked the moment you met. after bumping into you walking out of a coffee shop, he felt sparks the moment you touched. you relentlessly apologizing to him, pressing a handful of napkins to the stain on his shirt. he barely felt the pain, focusing on your touch. with that one moment, everything fell in place. every moment with you felt magical, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, and your quiet moments together, daredevil doesn’t exist, only you and matt. but as your relationship progressed, it was getting harder for matt to keep daredevil a secret: canceling dates, sneaking out in the middle of the night, giving you shitty excuses for his mysterious bruises. he knew you don’t believe him, but he knew you loved him enough to trust that he would tell you the truth in time. he wanted to tell you so bad, but when he wakes up in the morning, hearing your peaceful breathing, your soft skin pressed against his, he holds back. all he wants is to tell you, but he knows that to keep you safe, you must remain oblivious. but he can see the lies weighing on you. he knows you stay up at night waiting for him, he can see the worry ruining your health as you fuss over his injuries. so he let you go. it was hard, letting you sob and scream, fighting the urge to comfort you. he felt his heart shatter as you packed your things. you were the love of his life, but he doesn’t deserve you, not yet.

father paul hill/john pruitt: forbidden love

you were new to the small island, new to the church. you had caught his eye when you had left sunday mass the moment the eucharist had been given. from the corner of his eye, he had seen bev frown as you leave the church. he had put it out of his mind, of course, focusing on mass.

“are you new?” he had seen you walk in with a dog on a weekday, while he was writing his sermon inside the sacristy. with his interest piqued, he walked out. you looked up at his voice and he felt his heart stop. you were beautiful. two paws launched themselves onto his chest and he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. you raced over, frantic.

“oh my god, father, i’m so sorry. i didn’t think anyone was here so i had let go of his leash.” you frantically explain, trying your hardest to pull your big dog off of him. john paul couldn’t help, but laugh as the dog licked at his face.

“it’s fine, (y/n). it’s very… friendly.” he chuckles as you manage to wrestle the dog off of him. once your dog had settled down, you both sat down on a pew near the back. your dog had jumped into both of your laps. “you’re new, right? i saw you at sunday mass, but i hadn’t recognized you.”

“oh, yeah, father. i just moved here. just like you.” you let out a small laugh.

he bumped your shoulder with his, “guess we’ll have to help each other out then.” from that point on, he noticed that you had been coming around the church more often. soon, he was dropping by your house for dinner and wine once the town goes quiet. both of you sit on the couch, watching some movie that you had picked. he enjoyed every movie you pick, loving every interest you have. you set a plate full of pasta in front of paul and poured him a generous amount of wine. paul felt his eyes drift to your face as you watched the movie. he noticed every little detail about you: the way you bit your lip in concentration, the way your hands gripped the couch in suspenseful moments, your eyes welling up and your lips quivering when the scene gets sad. you turn and paul quickly turns away, feeling his face burn. he feels the cold touch of your hand on his cheek. he looks back and you smile, your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips.

“father, w-will you kiss me?” you stammer and he feels his heart stop. you take his silence as rejection and your eyes shine, “i’m so sorry, father paul, i didn’t me-” he presses his lips against yours as he pulls you into his lap. from that moment on, his daily dinners turned to something more secretive, more taboo. he felt like he was betraying everything he had been taught, but how could your touch be sinful if it feels like an angel’s. every wink, every secret smile, every late-night escapade, his heart had never raced like this. he knew that it could never be, his soul would always belong to god, but he lets himself get fooled by his heart. especially if it means he can feel your skin against his every night.

peter parker: friends to lovers

you had been friends with peter since freshman year. you had been with him through everything: every heartbreak, every broken friendship, every death. you gave him a safe haven after spider patrols. you hadn’t thought of peter as anything more of a friend till he saved your life. you had gotten mugged and peter had jumped in, in that moment, you felt something wash over you. you couldn’t place the feeling till you saw him the next day. peter had pulled you into a hug and you felt your stomach flip.

“i’m so glad you’re okay, god (y/n).” he mumbled into your hair.

you feel your heart beat faster, hyper aware of his arms around you. you laugh, trying to sound normal, “thank god spiderman was there.” he pulls away and laughs.

“yeah, yeah. sorry i couldn’t stick around though. you can’t be too careful.” he bumps his shoulder against you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach rage. since then, you became more aware of the quick touches, the secret glances, the subtle flirting. at first, you really thought it was in your head.

“i really don’t think it’s on purpose.” you frown, recounting to your friend about your feelings.

“you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” they look at you, eyebrow raised. you look back, doubtful. they groan, “oh my god, (y/n), you guys have been so weird around each other for like two months now. everyone has noticed. i mean, you remember when we went to go see a movie last week?”

“i’ll buy it for you, don’t worry. go save our seats.” peter smiles at you. “everyone else is also inside, so just save me a seat.”

 “but, i don’t want you to be standing out here alone.” you frown, looking around. the concession area was almost empty as most people were already inside, waiting for their respective movies to start.

“i’ll be okay, what’s a movie without our food.” he winks and gets into the line. he shoos you off. you wait for peter in the theater, your friend sits in his seat.

“hey, peter’s sitting here.” you whisper.

they laugh, “he’ll be fine if he’s away from you for a couple of hours.” peter walks in, hands full with popcorn and icees. he walks over and stops, he gives you a look and you shrug.

“move down, guys.” he calls to the rest of your group. everyone moves down, but your friend stands their ground.

“peter, there’s a lot of seats, pick one.”

“i want to sit next to (y/n).” he shrugs. your friend gives you a shocked look and you shrug again. they roll their eyes and moves down. peter sits down and hands over your things. as the movie went on, you could feel peter’s arm lightly touch yours, his foot bump into yours. at one point, you can feel him staring at you, but when you look over, his eyes are on the movie. your heart raced, but you grabbed his hand and entwine your fingers. he looks over and you can feel your face burn.

“i know it looks like he likes me, but what if he doesn’t? he hasn’t said a word to me since then. like no surprise visits, no texts, nothing.” you groan and lean your head against the table. your friend hums, but doesn’t respond. the next week, peter showed up at your door.

“i need to be honest with you.” peter sighs. you let him in and he steps in, looking around awkwardly. you gesture to the couch and peter sits down. “look, (y/n), i just feel so- i don’t know. i have to say this, but i don’t want to- to ruin what we have, you know?” peter stumbles through his words. you don’t say anything, heart in your throat. you can feel dread, ‘he knows how i feel, he’s uncomfortable. oh my god, i ruined our friendship.’ you feel like throwing up and tears well in your eyes. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? why-” he puts a hand on your arm, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“i’m sorry, peter, i know i must have made you uncomfortable during the movies. god, i don’t even know what came over me. i just really, really, really like you. i-i’m so sorry, peter. i’ve ruined everything.” you break down, and peter gets up and kneels in front of you.

“(y/n), baby, no, please don’t cry.” he pulls you into a hug and you feel worse, how can he comfort you when you’ve messed up your friendship? how can he sit there and treat you like you’re a good friend? “i like you too, that’s-that’s what i wanted to say. i thought…” you pull away, in shock. “i thought i ruined everything, but i guess,” he laughs and looks up at the ceiling, “i guess we’re both kinda stupid, huh.” you sniffle, letting out a mix of a sob and a laugh. he laughs and you notice the tears in his eyes.

“yeah, i guess we are.” you cup his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss.

natasha romanov: office romance

you’ve been working at S.H.E.I.L.D for a 6 months and natasha has had her eyes on you for 6 months. at first it started harmlessly.

“hello agent romanov, i’m (y/n) (l/n).  director fury told me i’d be handling your cases from now on.” you keep a neutral face as you address her, and she smiles.

“good to meet you, agent (l/n). i’m glad to know that my cases are in such good care.” she looks you up and down, you quirk an eyebrow before smiling. you stick a hand out and nat examines your face. she smiles before shaking it, “i think we’ll make a good team.”

you let go of her hand, “i think so too.”

she doesn’t really know when friendly interactions turned flirty. it was so easy to talk to you, easier than the others. you were just so… patient, so understanding. she hadn’t felt this way about someone in a very long time, but it was just so easy with you.

nat trailed her fingertips along your arm, she had pulled up a chair next to you as you sat in your office. “what’s our next case?” you ignore her, but don’t make any effort to move away from her antics. “(l/n).” she whispers into your ear. you look over, eyebrow raised. “case?”

“hmm,” you flip through the stacks of manila folders on your desk. “nothing for this week, so you can go get some beauty sleep, nat.” you smile and turn back to your paperwork.

“maybe you should come over tonight, (l/n).” nat smiles at you, mirth twinkling in her eyes. you look away, smiling wide, and decide to indulge her.

“i don’t think that’s very appropriate, agent romanov, i mean what would people say?” you act as if you said something scandalous. nat bites her cheek to fight a smile before leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

“i don’t know, baby, but i think they’d kill to be me.” she mumbles into your neck, playfully biting you.

regulus black: rivals to lovers

you were the first one to raise your hand, first to make potions right, first to turn your tests in. regulus black hated you. you were a stuck up, know-it-all, whose only purpose for existing was to piss him off. you’d smirk at him when you get the answer before him, when he gets it wrong. and he especially hates that stupid laugh you have when you see that your test scores were higher than his. regulus black hated you. and what makes it worse is that his parents loved you. you were so respectful and good when they were around, hooking your arm with his, smiling and laughing, making his heart beat faster, and his stomach turn. regulus doesn’t really know when that happened. when your stupid face started seeming less stupid and more… pretty. when your ugly laugh was more amusing than annoying. and he doesn’t like thinking about it. you and him? you’ve been enemies since the first year, and even as fifth years, you’ll continue to be his sworn enemy.

“reg?” your angelic irritating voice brought him back from his daydream. he had been sitting under a tree near the whomping willow, reading a book. he looks up to see your face, crouching down in front of him.

“what?” he looks back at his book, you huff and pull his book out of his hands. “(y/n)!”

“listen to me! ...please.” for the first time since he met you, you sounded utterly pathetic. he bites back a gleeful smile.

“fine. you are holding my book hostage, i might as well listen, for its safety of course.” he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the tree.

you sit down onto your knees and laugh and regulus feels like grinning, “of course, for your book’s safety.” you rip a couple blades of grass out of the ground and bookmark his page. he feels his heart jump, but clears his throat. “you know how the parkinson’s are holding another winter gala during the break?” you look at him with your dazzling eyes, he nods, “well, i was wondering if you wanted to go with me… as my date?” he straightens, eyes widening before he narrows them, examining the hopeful look on your face and your wringing hands.

“are you joking with me right now?” he scoffs, leaning back, feeling a twinge of hurt.

“no! no, listen, i’ve really liked you… since maybe the third year? i don’t know, i know we haven’t been the nicest to each other, so i understand if you don’t want-”

“well, i never said that.” he interrupts you, your eyes shine and regulus fights the urge to kiss you. “and i’m fine with putting a pause on our… rivalry.” he rolls his eyes, feeling his face burn in embarrassment. you drop the book onto the ground and toss yourself onto him. regulus starts to shout, but he feels your arms wrap around him.

“thank you, thank you, thank you! i’m so excited!” you hug him tighter and regulus relents quickly, hugging you back. he buries his face into your shoulder, squeezing you against him.

“yeah, yeah, you don’t have to be so excited.”

harley quinn: partners in crime

you met Harley while shoplifting at the jewelry store she was robbing. she had a gun pointed right at you when she paused.

“oh. my. gosh. you are absolutely…” she pauses, tilting your head, before squealing “adorable!!!” she grips your face in her hands, gun still cocked. you feel true fear spreading through your body. “absolutely adorable, we should be friends!” she swings an arm around your shoulder before ordering the jeweler to give her everything. then in one blink, you were in her apartment (lair?) and making out on her couch. you became the planner and she became the plan-ruiner, she did the real action and you were the getaway driver, she brought you the money and you made sure to keep everything off of batman’s radar. even if the plans you make go sideways cause of harley, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get mad. you fell in love. she always made sure to protect you from joker and batman, putting herself on the line when shit hits the fan. she’d never let anyone hurt you, she’d rather be in danger before you.

“angel-cakes! let’s go get some sandwiches from that place near the bank, i’ve been dyinggg for an egg sandwich.” she jumps onto the couch, tossing her legs into your lap.

“you planning on getting some money from the bank?” you start rubbing her feet, as a reflex, eyes still on the t.v.

“no, silly, i just want a sandwich.” she pulls her feet off and twists herself to get her head in your lap. you smile and play with her hair.“alright, let’s go get some sandwiches and some money.” harley shoots up and leaves a big, wet smooch onto your cheek.

#like and reblog <3 #and ALSO PLS BE FRIENDS WITH ME NONE OF YOU INTERACT WITH MY SILLY POStS AND IT BREAKS MY HEART #x reader #gender neutral reader #spiderman imagines #tasm spiderman #tobey spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #father paul hill x reader #midnight mass #the avengers #matt murdock x reader #daredevil imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black #harry potter imagine #harley quinn x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #angst #unrequited love #right person wrong time #forbidden love #friends to lovers #academic rivals to lovers

[munsonownsmyass]

Priest!Matt Murdock x reader

Author’s note: what was supposedly a innocent picture shared by @mindidjarin in our TFC server caused a few of us to go feral for Father Matthew. And here's my contribution 😅

Oh, and just because I really needed Matt with the glasses, let's pretend he's almost blind 😆

And I have to say religion is not my forte, so if I've made a mistake, I'm sorry. I tried to do some research 🙈

Warnings: Oh Lord, where to begin? Sacrilege, blasphemous behavior, probably incorrect use of prayers/confessions, taking some liberties with the size of a confession booth, biblical references, corruption, Father Matthew is a virgin (because i said so!), SMUT! 18+. Implied masturbation, Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, choking, cream pie, body worship, Catholic guilt. Let's just say I'm gonna burn in hell for this.

Words: 4K. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop.

”Church? Really?”

You can’t hide your disgust and instantly you see your roommate's smile fade. You don’t mean to offend her, not really, religion has just never been your thing. Never even been to church, you can’t really imagine going now.

“Come on. It’s always so nice to go during the holidays.” Laura tries, taking your hands in hers. “Please. For me? You only have to go once if you don’t like it, promise.”

Laura gives you a pleading smile and you feel yourself give in. She’s the kindest person ever, so how can you even say no to her? And maybe it won’t be so bad.

“But… Am I even allowed to go?” you ask with a shrug of your shoulders, causing Laura to laugh. She just wraps her arms around you, before giving your forehead a kiss.

“Of course, silly. What do you think will happen? You’d burst into flames?” she giggles before walking towards the kitchen to get your dinner started. Little does she know that is exactly what you’re thinking.

You weren’t exactly a complete sinner, but you weren’t a wallflower either. Never been afraid to try things, you’re quite sure you’ve done things Laura haven’t even heard off. She’s probably spray you with holy water if she knew. It’s quite ironic you ended up with a good modest catholic girl as your roommate, when you live in Hell’s Kitchen of all places.

The following Sunday you find yourself in front of Clinton Church with an overly excited Laura at your side. Her family would go to church religiously every Sunday and she never missed one. After moving to Hell’s Kitchen, she had quickly found a new church and according to her, the priest here were amazing and really inspiring, whatever that means.

Laura drags you all the way up to the front. You’re about to protest, hoping you could have hidden in a corner, when you hear people fall silent. Looking up at the alter, you see the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Who’s that?” you whisper, earning an annoyed look from Laura. “That’s the priest. Now shush.”

And you do. Not because she told you too, but because you wouldn’t even be able to form words if you tried. You’re instantly drawn to him. His dimples when he smiles, his smooth voice as he talks passionately throughout the sermon, his beautiful eyes as they look over his congregation.

After the service, Laura drags you up to the priest, wanting to introduce you. “Father Matthew, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She says softly, causing him to turn around. He’s even more handsome up close and you feel your mouth go dry. Laura gives him your name and when he repeats it, you feel yourself blush.

“Welcome. It’s good to have you with us.” He says with a bright smile, taking your hands in his. “If there’s ever anything, my office is always open.”

Oh, if only he knew what you were thinking right now. You nod politely, thanking him. Another person demands his presence, so he bids you farewell with another killer smile, making your knees weak. Unable to tear your eyes away, you eye him as he talks to the other attendants. Charming, handsome and passionate. You start to see the appeal of going to church.

A few days later you find Laura knee-deep in flour when you come home from work, the kitchen looking like a mess.

“What’s going on?” You ask with a grin, trying to help lessen the damage. With a heavy sigh, she sits down on a stool, pulling some dough out from her hair.

“There’s a bake sale at the church. I want to help.” She huffs out, pouting like a child. You can’t help but laugh softly, helping her with another lump of dough.

“Let me bake it for you.” You pat her shoulder, as you return to the counter and start cleaning up some of the mess she’s made. An idea pops into your head. “Maybe I should come to the bake sale. Help you out.”

At that she stops and look at you, confusion written all over her face. “You? Wanna help? But you don’t even believe in God.”

“No, but I believe in Father Matthew’s ass.” You grin, but stopping as soon as you see the horrified expression on Laura’s face. “What?”

“You really shouldn’t talk about a priest like that.” She counters, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t think a man as devout as him would appreciate it.”

“Oh, come on!” You grin, leaning against the counter as you face her, arms crossed over your chest. “You make it sound like it’s a sin or something. I’m just saying he’s hot.”

Laura avoids your gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the little piece of dough she pulled from her hair. She’s clearly uncomfortable, trying to find the right words. “But… It kinda is forbidden. I mean, he’s a priest. A catholic priest. They have to abstain from such things.”

Putting down the spoon in your hand, you look at her confused, replaying her words in your mind. “So… You’re telling me Father Matthew is a virgin?!”

“Not that it’s any of our business to discuss, but…” she pauses, her cheeks a bright pink, clearly not used to conversations like this. “It’s most likely, yes.”

And with that she walks away, done with the conversation. Shaking your head in disbelief, you save the batter before pouring it into a pan. You couldn’t wrap your head around a guy like him being a virgin. So charismatic and kind, there was no way.

The next day at the bake sale, Father Matthew comes over to thank you for the help. You generously offer to help whenever he needs it, which is how you found yourself helping out at the church several times a week. Whatever it took to get closer to Father Matthew.

He was like this forbidden fruit, a beacon calling you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself smiling in his company, craving his attention. And you dont think the affection is one sided. Father Matthew smiles more in your presence, always finding reasons to be near you.

Small fleeting touches would send your heart soaring. You wondered if he knew the effect he had on you, how much you longed for him.

Especially late at night, laying alone in your bed, you found your thoughts invaded by him. How his perfect body would feel against yours. How those lips would feel, trailing kisses over every inch of your skin. His voice whispering sweet praises in your ears.

It really wasn’t fair. A pious and devout man with an ass and lips made for sin, and you couldn’t touch him. You were starting to think that if there really was a God, he certainly was a cruel one.

It’s a quiet day at the church, not really anything to do. But still you stayed, talking to Matthew about… anything really. Today he talked about how his life sometimes had been lonely before he found his calling. The words from Laura still ringing in your head, you find your courage to finally ask the question that’s been burning to come out.

“Have you never been curious?” Your ask, your fingers grazing the rows of benches as you make your way over to Matthew. Looking to you briefly, he just offers a smile as he keeps putting the bibles in place.

“It's my job to be curious, but for the sake of argument. Curious about what?”

“What I mean is…” You step forward, further closing the distance between you and Father Murdock. “Have you ever been tempted?”

He swallows hard and you hear his breathing get heavier. Licking his lips, he puts down the bible and turn to you. “I have.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you walk closer still, your body almost touching his. “And you never wanted to give in to temptation?”

“Tha-that would be a sin.” He breathes out, clearly affected by you. “The, uhm… The devil often sends temptations in the most…” he pauses, breathing strained as his hand comes to rest on the bench in front of him, knuckles almost turning white as he clenches around the wood. “Alluring forms. All to test our faith.”

“And how strong are you in your faith, Father?” you breathe out, using every single ounce of willpower not to kiss him. Never one to believe, you feel yourself praying for strength to resist him.

“Not-” he swallows, turning his head to you, his face a mere inch from yours. “Not as strong as I want to be.”

The air between you is thick. You want to lean in, claim his lips with your own. Your whole body is screaming for him. It’s so forbidden, but you don’t care. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted a man before. Needing him like you're drawing and he is air.

Unable to hold back any longer, you lean forward and gently press your lips to his in a sweet, brief kiss. Petrified, he stands there wide eyed, mouth slightly ajar.

The door to the church opens, causing Father Matthew to break away from you. His face flustered, bottom lip quivering as he tries to compose himself. He looks to the man who entered the church, swallowing hard, as he takes one of the bibles, using it to cover his erection.

“I-I must go.” He stutters, fixing his glasses and smoothes down his hair, trying to look unphased when in fact his insides are in turmoil, his soul on fire from your kiss. He gives you a soft smile, his free hand squeezing your arm, before he walks down the aisle.

You sit down in the confession booth, waiting. It’s not long before the hatch slides away, the unmistakable voice of Matt Murdock greeting you.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first time confessing.”

His breathing changes. He knows it’s you. He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat before he speaks. “What do you have to atone for, my child?”

“I have had unpure thoughts of a man I shouldn’t lust after. A man of the church. I feel myself drawn to him.” You confess, looking to the little window between you and Matthew. “I… I have touched myself thinking about him.”

“Oh God.” He breathes out, barely above a whisper.

“I have thought about all the ways I could please him. How he would feel inside me.”

A soft whimper fills the air. You can hear him squirming beside you, finding it hard to sit still. “I wonder if he thinks of me too. If he has laid there in the darkness, hard at the thought of me.”

“Please… Don’t…” is all he manages to say, hearing the struggle in his voice. “I can’t…”

In that moment you give hell to everything, leaving the booth and find yourself opening the door to his side. Father Matthew looks up, breathing coming out hard, as he tries to control himself. His cock is straining against the zipper, begging to be released. He tries to hide it, ashamed of how little self-control he has around you.

You walk in, not even bothering to close the door behind you before you straddle his lap, your core rubbing against his hard length. He whimpers at the contact, muttering prayers under his breath.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go.” You say, the pleading clear. You want him with every fiber of your being, already soaked through your panties. A wicked part of you wants to ruin him, wants to know you were the one taking his innocence, right here before the eyes of God.

“You know I can’t.” He looks up, eyes glazed over with lust. He swallows hard, his hand cupping your cheek. He prays that you have the strength to leave, because his is faltering. Leaning in closer, your breath ghost over his lips, causing him to shiver.

“Please don’t. I… I’m not strong enough to resist you.” He stutters, not breaking away. You claim his lips in a soft, almost timid kiss. Moans fill the air as he feels your soft lips against his. Deepening the kiss, you grind against him, feeling how hard he is under you.

Your hands move down his chest, cupping his bulge, eliciting sweet whimpers from Father Matthew. You push away, falling to your knees, the cold stones hard against your skin. You unzip his pants, hand wrapping around his weeping cock, so desperate for attention. Father Matthew puts his hand over yours, causing you to stop.

“No, we can’t… ” He tries to protest, yet his hips jerk up into your hand, whimpering at the friction. At that you just smile softly, taking him into your mouth down to the base, getting a loud moan from him. Father Matthew throws his head back, eyes open, thinking about the lifeless figure hanging over the alter, judging him.

“God forgive me.” He whimpers, his fingers gripping onto the bench beneath him. You bob your head, moaning as his tip hit the back of your throat. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers through Farther Matthew, making him squirm under you, before he stops you by pushing your head away.

He falls to his knees, facing you. His eyes almost find yours, the intensity of the moment making his heart swell with something he wishes were weaker, so he could ignore it. But he can’t. His hands move to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, uncovering your smooth soft skin that breaks out in goosebumps under his timid touch.

You know it's the first time he's ever touched another human so intimately, so you let his fingers explore your skin, his trembling hands cupping your breasts.

Your heart is beating fast, the sound almost deafening as your lips come together again. You make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, fingers running hungrily over his chest. You hold him tight as you press kisses down his jaw to his throat.

Father Matthews skin burns under your touch, eyes half lidded, heavy with want as his eyes search for you. With a hand flat on his chest, you turn, pushing him back until he’s laying on the floor, his upper body outside the booth. Anyone could walk in and find you, but none of you care. Straddling him, your soaked panties rub over his exposed cock, making him groan under you. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you grind on him.

Pulling your panties to the side, you take a hold of his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto his hard length. Father Matthew holds his breath as you take him to the base, his mind going blank at how good you feel. “God forgive me.” He chants, over and over, as you fuck yourself on his cock. His whimpers fill the air, the sound echoing throughout the church.

His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts up into you, unable to hold back. It’s so good, so forbidden. It only takes a few more seconds before Father Matthew comes with a loud groan.

“Oh God!” he moans, eyes closed as he pumps into you one last time before coming to a halt. For a moment, all you hear in the empty church, is your heavy breathing filling the air. After catching his breath, he sits up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He pushes you off him gently, averting your gaze as he quickly fixing his clothes. Guilt is painted all over his features, his face red with embarrassment as he runs towards his office, leaving you alone on the floor.

A week later, you find yourself outside his office. You want to say your sorry, to seek his forgiveness for being weak. You wanted it, but it wasn’t until you saw the torment on his face that you realized what you had done.

You had taking his virginity, without even thinking about the consequences. You had to make amends. Taking a deep breath, you knock on his door and wait.

“Come in.”

Peaking in, you see him sitting at his desk, a stack of paper before him. His fingers glide over the pages, reading another line, before looking in your direction.

“What can I do for you?”

“I… I wanted to say sorry.” You barely manage to say, voice close to breaking. Father Matthew stop what he's doing, pushing away from his desk.

“You’re not the only one guilty of what happened that day.” He walks up to you, his index finger gently tracing your jaw. “And I’m sorry for leaving you. I just…”

“Felt guilty?” You offer, getting a small smile in return from Father Matthew. Cupping your cheek, he nods softly, sighing at the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

“Yes. I cannot allow myself to be tempted.” He pauses, resting his forehead against yours. “But you make it very hard. Make me falter in my faith.”

He breaks away from you, walking back to his desk, the frustration evident. You walk over to Father Matthew, sitting down beside him on the desk. There’s so much you want to say, but you fear the words wouldn’t help. You settle for placing your hand on his, a gesture so innocent compared to what else you've done, but it still feels like you're playing with fire.

Father Matthew looks to his hand, lips quirking up in a little smile, before he turns his hand around, so he can hold yours. His thumb moves in soft circles on the back of your hand, the motion as soothing for him as it is to you.

Looking down at the table, you see a pair of glasses with dark red glass, so unlike the ones he usually wears. "What are the red glasses for? Can you read hidden codes in the books with them?"

"You have watched too many movies." Father Matthew grins, giving your hand a squeeze. He looks in their direction, scratching the back of his head. "Most blind people wear dark shades. Some to hide their eyes, but most because it's easier on the eyes."

"But... you're...?"

"Almost completely blind. Barely any sight left. So it's not long before I'll have to switch these out." He smiles, tapping the clear glasses on his nose.

After that, the two of you sit in silence for a while, none of you daring to speak. Finally, you break the silence.

"Father Matthew, I-"

“I believe you were put on this earth to be my test from God. My apple of Eden.” He interrupts with a pained smile, turning to you, his free hand coming to rest on your cheek. "And now that I've known desire, I fear one taste will never be enough."

You blush, the sacrilege in his words weighing heavy on you. You know what those words could mean, how they could bring ruin to him, as he would sacrifice everything he's worked for, for you.

His lips find yours in an innocent kiss. A silent 'God forgive me' falls from his lips, before they claim yours again. This time less timid as his tongue begs for entrance. It quickly turns heated, frantic, as he moves closer to you, unable to keep his distance any longer.

Father Matthew moves from the desk, only to stand between your parted legs, his hands shaking as they pause on your thighs. He falls to his knees, looking up at you.

“What wicked games our Lord can play, sending someone like you to cross my path.” He breathes out, fingers trembling as they open your jeans. Slowly he pulls them off along with your underwear, exposing you to him. Hands caressing up the length of your legs, causing Father Matthew to shiver.

“No one but you could make a man fall from grace.” He grins, nipping at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a string of whimpers from you. “Hail Mary, full of Grace.” He prays, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin, muttering prayers under his breath. You shiver as he nears your heated core, already soaked for him. He kisses you mound, his breath on your sensitive cunt making you tremble.

“Pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen.” He pleads, his eyes blown wide with lust as he dives in, his tongue licking up your wet slit.

"Oh God… Father Matthew." You moan out, fingers entangling in his hair as he devours you like a man starved. His perfect lips encircle your clit as he starts sucking, pulling a sweet moan from you. His name falls from your lips, like the softest prayer, a hymn more beautiful than any he'd ever heard before.

Lowering himself a little more, he licks at your entrance, the sweet taste of you making him moan into your folds. He grabs a hold of your hips, urging you closer as he pushes his tongue inside of you, wanting to drink you in completely.

Flattening his tongue, he licks up your slit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud. It's all too much and with a few more flicks of his tongue, you come undone with his name on your lips.

He keeps nipping at your sensitive core as you come down, your breathing rapid as you look down, marveling in the sight before you. He looks good on his knees, like a good catholic boy praying at the alter that is you.

Pulling him up to his feet, you kiss him with unknown passion, the hunger for him threatening to break you if you don't feel him inside you soon. Father Matthew feverishly pull at his belt, impatiently unzipping his pants. He palms his erection, pumping a few times before he lines up at your entrance, his whole body trembling.

He knows it's a sin, he knows he shouldn't. But he wants you, needs you. Not since he found his calling, his path, has anything called to him as you do. His Lilith, his temptress, unbroken and unbowed as you make this cold office feel like your own Garden of Eden.

Pushing in, his legs almost give in at the feeling of you. Your wet heat, so inviting as he pushes in, soft prayers once again spilling over his lips.

"God, give me strength." He mutters, voice close to breaking, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

Your tight warmth surrounding him, igniting a furious fire deep in his belly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He pulls out slowly, reveling in the feeling of you.

“How can anything that’s a sin feel so good?” He breathes out as he pushes in slowly, inch by delicious inch, before he bottoms out. “I’m sure this is what heaven feels like.”

By the time Father Matthew starts thrusting, you almost sob at the sensation of his hard cock inside you. The stretch is delicious and he takes his time, savoring you and your cunt with slow and deep thrusts. You clench around him, already close again.

He grips you harder, his pace quickening as he gets close to his own release. His hand moves up to your throat, squeezing gently, just enough to make you gasp for air.

"Matthew, please…" You whisper as he claims your lips, the kiss almost bruising as he pistons his hips against you. You scream out your release, fingers digging into Father Matthews shoulders. He only thrusts once more, before he spills inside you, filling you to the brim.

"Jesus Christ!" You pant, feeling how he throbs inside of you. Matthew just chuckles, kissing your forehead sweetly.

"Language. You shouldn't take his name in vain." He says seriously, but soon breaks into a laugh. He kiss you again, quick pecks on your lips, cheeks and nose.

"Sorry, Father." You feign innocence, biting your lip. Father Matthew just sighs, nudging your bottom lip free with his thumb before he kiss you softly.

"What should I do with you?" He laughs, placing another series of soft kisses on your lips.

"I think this calls for lots and lots of private confessions. This little lamb has strayed too far from the path." You grin, kissing his neck. He instantly moans, still new to this kind of intimacy.

What you’ve done, is the ultimate sin and could lead to Father Matthew being excommunicated. Forced to leave the church and his calling. But by the way his cock twitches against your core, you think he's ready to sin some more.

TFC girls: @phoebe-danvers @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @saintmurd0ck @mattmurdocksscars @a-bang-for-your-bucky @pedrito-friskito

Tagging a few people. Please just tell me if it's not okay: @lucy-sky @foli-vora @murdockswh0r3 @freshabogados @briefcasejuice @peterman-spideyparker

#priest!matt murdock x reader #priest!matt murdock #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #forgive me father for i have sinned... repeatedly

[martyrmurdock]

♡ tags: matt murdock x gn reader, nsfw (18+ only, minors do not interact), light body worship (m!receiving) 

the vision laid out before your very eyes is enough to convince you of the existence of the divine.

neon lights, emitted by the large billboard from across the street, dance around the interior of the apartment, bathing the place in a blend of deep sensual reds and startlingly electric purples. your eyes are drawn to how the lights illuminate matt’s figure against the dark canvas of night, your gaze tracing how the splashes of rouge and plum hues highlight the healing bruises and darkening love bites littered across your lover’s skin.

knelt between matt’s open legs, you press a tender kiss to the inside of his bare thigh, right above the curve of his knee. you delight in how it makes him shiver, the action almost imperceptible but there all the same. 

“beautiful,” you murmur, entranced. you press another kiss to his skin, higher up this time, halfway to the apex of his thighs. “gorgeous,” your lips brush against the crease between his thighs and pelvis, tone bordering on reverent. 

matt’s hands, large and calloused, find their place on the back of your head as your breath hits his achingly hard cock in soft puffs of air. his dick twitches, more precum dribbling from its slit as a result. 

“darling, you’re killing me here,” matt manages to say, his chest heaving. a loud groan escapes past his pretty kiss-bitten lips when you give the head of his cock a teasing kitten lick, lapping at the salty precum gathered there.

“be patient, matty,” you gently chastise. your hands smooth over the strong planes of his thighs, corded muscle rippling right beneath the surface of his sensitive skin. your lips skim over the path your hands have taken as you exhale out: “let me take my time with you.”

one of his hands slides down from the back of your head, following the curve of your jaw, and cups your cheek, tilting your chin up at him. he looks terribly disheveled- soft brown hair a mess on top of his head, white button down rumpled as it hangs open and loose on his strong frame. matt’s breaths are ragged, but the corner of his lips curls upward into a playful yet lust-filled grin. 

“i’m all yours, sweetheart.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #daredevil x gender neutral reader #matt murdock smut #daredevil smut #martyr writes #saint.matthew murdock #forgive me father for i have sinned

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 2584 (chapter 22)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY other FRIDAY ?

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

22. In the Blood

While you were lying in bed with a book, trying to distract yourself from what happened earlier, so painfully aware of Robert's presence next door, Matt found himself engaging in another conflict with the Russians. As well as has Wesley.

Although Fisk's business has been going on quite well recently, the Russians became a problem and Wesley's headache yet again. Simply because they were unable to contain the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Wesley confidently strides into the taxi workshop, looking up and down at the two men in the middle of the garage. "Oof, those look like they hurt." He mutters with no emotions of compassion or mercy. Only sheer disappointment.

"I've had worse." Anatoly answers with a thick Russian accent, making Wesley's ears bleed. Oh, how much he hated working with them, yet he had to admit that the Russians were a cheap brute force, but... They started slipping too much recently.

"I know how much your people delight in extolling the amount of pain they can endure, but maybe next time you could try ducking? Leland's finalized the paperwork. Prohaszka's holdings in Kitchen Cab have been acquired and transferred via third party to Veles Taxi. Your distribution infrastructure just doubled." Wesley spills quickly, maintaining the same relaxed tone the whole time. Tone that was intimidating everyone.

"Tell your employer we are grateful." Anatoly takes the papers from Wesley's hands and slips through some pages.

"Don't think he really cares at the moment. You were light again this week." Wesley looks at the two men in front of him, beat to a pulp, yet still cocky.

"There was a complication." Vladimir intervenes, saving Anatoly's ass from the deadly stare.

"One you assured us you were addressing." Wesley rolls his eyes slightly, crossing his arms.

Vladimir hurries to remind Wesley about his brother, "Do you know what he was asking? This fool who laid hands on my brother?"

Wesley refrains from rolling his eyes again, and just wants to get out of this filthy place as soon as possible, "not my concern."

"It should be. He was asking about your employer, by name." Anatoly steps in the chat again.

"All the more reason to settle this. You sneeze, we all catch a cold. Madame Gao and Mr. Nobu have expressed their disappointment." Wesley simply answers, watching how Anatoly's eyes got bigger upon the mentioning of Gao.

"We have not heard of this." Vladimir breaks the short silence.

"Hmm," Wesley hums throatily, "that's because we've been talking behind your back, about how the Russians can't seem to handle one man running around in a mask. I mean, if he had an iron suit or a magic hammer, maybe that would explain why you keep getting your asses handed to you-"

Vladimir starts walking off before the sentence is finished, with Anatoly following him. "We're done here."

"He's weakened your operation." Wesley drops, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Vladimir turns back on his heel and quickly returns to Wesley, trying to prove who's the man of this place by standing close to Wesley. "You think us weak?"

"This isn't personal, Vladimir. It's business. Distribution of Madame Gao's product has been affected, which in turn is causing delays in other ventures. This is not acceptable. Fortunately for all parties, my employer has agreed to help return you to solid footing."

"How?"

"By aiding you in certain duties deemed vital to the continuation of service-" Wesley smirks a little, while Vladimir turns to leave again.

"He wants to take over."

"We value the services you provide, but clearly," Wesley says louder, laughing under his breath, "you need help providing them. We'll all profit nicely under the new structure."

"How nicely?" Anatoly stops Vladimir with one hand.

The men exchange a row of words in Russian, making Wesley sick from the language again, although he regretted now that working with Russians, he had a language barrier. The feeling of being not superior in the situation was crushing to say the least. Vladimir finally turns to look at Wesley, "tell Mr. Fisk-"

"We don't say his name." Wesley cuts right away, instantly annoyed.

"Tell... Mr. Fisk..." Vladimir says again, this time more confidently, "that if he wants a pound of flesh... he can come here and carve it himself."

Wesley exhales through his nose loudly. "This is an offer, not an order. The choice of how we proceed is yours. Talk it over with your brother. We'll be in touch." Turning on his heel, he leaves the garage, returning to the black SUV, where Fisk was already waiting for him.

Vladimir and Anatoly continue arguing in the garage, finally deciding on sneaking into the hospital to get more information from Semyon.  Meanwhile, Wesley closes the doors and immediately takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Fisk patiently waits for him to say anything, intently following every movement of the man in front of him. Although he was the same man that he knew, there was something different about Wesley today. Something so small and simple that it was not visible to the eye of the cold-blooded maestro in the black suit.

"Anatoly may be the way in. He seems more amenable to the proposition, or at least not quite as...vitriolic as his brother." He finally says, not putting his glasses on yet. 

"Well, confrontations can be expensive. I'd prefer to handle this quietly. How are we on the timeline?" Fisk asks immediately.

"Within a reasonable margin. Assuming we can settle with the Russians quickly."

"We will. One way or another."

"What about the masked idiot?" Wesley clutches his glasses slightly, knowing that the force he applied might be enough for them to break. The fact that The Devil not only ruined their business, but also hurt you, was enough for him to finally snap and punish that idiot himself.

Fisk sighs slightly, "If the brothers can't handle him, I'll find another solution."

Car stops and Fisk immediately grabs the handle, blocking Wesley's arm from doing the same thing. " You stay with the car, I need to attend this alone." Fisk rasps, and gets out, leaving Wesley alone in the backseat, with some idiot behind the wheel.

Fisk has told him about his plans to ask Vanessa out to dinner. Of course, he was happy for his boss, but a little voice at the back of his head was laughing at him at times. Wesley remembered how cowardly he felt today when he kissed your cheek before leaving. That idiot Robert has spoiled everything. Wesley curses under his breath. He didn't even get a chance to pay the bill. Yet, the fact that he managed to kiss your cheek, to get even a little bit of physical contact was both calming and driving him insane. Of course, this was all a part of a big plan, the important dots on a huge map, but he couldn't stop that fire burning with jealously inside of him. When Robert asked you about sleeping at your place, Wesley felt the urge to take out his gun and just blow his brains out. A small, sudden sound snaps Wesley out of the trance that he was in. Looking down into his lap, he notices how he crushed his glasses, and the sharp pieces sticking into his palm made him bleed, proving that just like every other man, he was indeed vulnerable. With no panic evident on his face, only a slight frown, Wesley takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, calmly picking out the shards and wrapping what was left of his glasses into the soft material. The blood kept slowly oozing, yet James didn't hurry to wipe it. Something about that made the situation both poetic and ridiculous. 

Fisk returns rather quickly, not noticing the bloody hand of his most trusted man, and bragging about how successfully the conversation went. Wesley shoots a small, understanding smile, balling his bleeding palm into a tight fist. 

***  

Russians kept Matt busy. In fact, they kept everyone busy, turning themselves into the city's biggest headache in a matter of weeks. After Claire stitched Matt up last night, he got a burner phone for the sake of her safety, and yet the worst has happened again. The phone call that Claire managed to make before she was dragged out of her flat, made Matt feel the fire was catching up with him, thinking that because of his dumb decisions, an innocent woman might not make it till the dawn of the next morning. 

And while Matt goes on another rescue mission, putting criminals into their places, Foggy finds himself in Marci's bed again. Instead of drowning in a pile of case papers, he was drowning in the sea of white, over-perfumed sheets. Over and over again, he told himself that Marci was no good, and yet, he kept coming back to her like a moth keeps flying towards the flame.

Ironically, Matt was the one who encouraged Foggy to move on, and still, Matt himself kept the record of one-night hookups, up until they had a case against you. There was something so sinful, so strong about you that he, as a devoted Christian, was ready to commit that sin. Right now, there was no time to think about you, especially when he was beating the crap out of those Russians, but later, back in Claire's kitchen, when Matt was stitching her up, he felt the need to do anything to protect you from Wesley. Claire, still recovering from the shock, proved to Matt that the city needs protection, the city need him in that stupid mask, and you... You need him in that stupid mask as well. 

*** 

Matt returned home late. From the sounds of the city, he was guessing that it was around 2 AM. Exactly 10 hours until the court. And 7 hours until he sees you again. 6 hours until he goes to church. And 5 hours of actual sleep. If he will even manage to fall asleep. The stress of running around was catching up with him, Matt felt drained, but the emotions of people he saved, especially Claire were still raw, still getting under his skin and tearing his heart apart. How long will he be able to be sponge that takes in all of the pain and all of the emotions from others? When will Matt be able to not only give himself to others, but actually get something in return? Matt sighs loudly and lays on his back. The sheets felt like a thousand needles stabbing his back, but maybe it was because he felt like he was missing a part of himself, like he was living his whole life incomplete.

With only 5 hours of sleep Matt was dressed in his best suit, making his way towards the church. Father Lantom was sitting outside the church, wrapped up in a long black coat. The shy rays of sun illuminated his face, making him look like a saint. "Haven't seen you here in a while."

Matt feels startled, although he knew that Father always somehow saw him, even in the biggest crowd. "Well, I've been busy." Matt sits down next to him and inhales the cold weather, feeling somewhat relaxed when it fills his lungs.

"I know." Father turns to look at Matt, even more tired than he usually was. "The press loves this new mysterious figure."

"I don't think 'loves' is the word to use here, Father." Matt smiles shyly for a moment, but then his lips turn to thin line on their own.

"Love has many meanings, Matt." Father intently watches Matt for any kind of reaction, any twitch of muscles, yet he receives none. "Care to discuss what's on your heart over a cup of latte?"

"Yeah.. Sure." Matt gives up running away from those offers, not wanting to hurt the old man anymore. 

"Finally someone agreed, I've been wanting to try it since they brought the machine here." Father talks along the way, just to keep the mood of conversation going, before Matt returns to his old, quiet self. "You've got court today or do you go to work dressed like that now?"

The question throws Matt off a little, and he grins again. "Like what?"

"Ellegant." Father watches the cup filling up with steaming liquid.

"I threw on the first thing I touched."

"It was with that nicely folded handkerchief as well?" Father Lantom puts the cup in front of Matt and sits down too. Matt doesn't answer, meaning that the quick banter will be put to rest now. "Anything you'd like to say, Matthew?"

"I'd say that I'm a fool but you already knew that." Matt leans over the cup and inhales the sweet aroma, which is oddly so similar to your perfume that the thought makes him shake his head slightly.

"That goes without saying. Maybe you wanna talk about what happened in that fancy lawyer firm?" Father asks as carefully as possible, feeling the need to somehow crack the man in front of him.

"A friend of mine got hurt. That's it."

"Yet the press is saying that you're the one who hurt her."

"It was an accident, and I was an idiot." 

"Why did you go there?" Father presses, wanting to know the truth from Matt himself.

"Because..." I care. He wanted to let it out, to say those words, but something was just stuck in his throat, preventing him from doing so. "I couldn't let an innocent person get involved in a shady business."

"Did you succeed?"

"If by succeed you mean that she got shot, then no."

Father falls silent, thinking over his next words. The look on Matt's face was unreadable, something new and unusual to Lantom. "Does she know about you? The other you."

"No. No one knows. No one will know."

"And what shady business was she getting into?"

Matt scoffs a little, finally taking the cup into his hands, "her boss tried to fake the evidence. Whole case is a mess." Father opens his mouth for another question, but Matt beats him to the answer, "she started working for us yesterday."

"Oh. Now I see why the fancy costume is on display." Father laughs slightly, but gets serious as soon as he notices Matt's furrowed eyebrows. "You care about her, don't you? Enough to risk your identity getting revealed just to save her from bad decisions?"

Matt takes a sip of the drink, taking his time with the answer. But this silence says enough for Father. 

"Matt, you have to-"

"I care about everyone in this city, Father, and last night I risked a woman's life with the Russians. I can't let anyone close to me because they will end up getting hurt." Matt feels like he's back in Claire's apartment, listening to her heart ramming in her chest violently.

"Can't let anyone close to Matt Murdock or close to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

"If they get close to one, the other becomes a threat."

"If it's really like that, Matthew, you've got a problem in... separating them. Don't let the Devil get the upper hand. Find your anchor, someone to keep you to your true self."

"Here I thought you were gonna bring God into the conversation." Matt scoffs again, finishing the latte.

"I'm afraid that God won't be much of a help, you have to sort it out yourself before it's too late. Open up yourself to others, Matthew, don't take away other people's darkness, thinking that it won't affect you too." Father finishes, from the movements of Matt guessing that he'll be soon leaving.

"Yeah, thanks for the drink, Father." Matt gets up with a slight struggle, which earns him a a reproachful look. 

"Don't get lost, child." Father calls one last time before Matt loudly closes the doors of the church. 

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #human disaster matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #james wesley #wilson fisk #marvel daredevil #marvel #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #netflix daredevil #lawyers #bound by law #father lantom

[ophelia-loves-desdemona]

This is the first time I've ever posted something hear but I do kinda need help I'm currently writing a Daredevil fanFic and I need help for a Faceclaim of my character I give you infos about her down below 🥰

- she is Matt and Elektras Daughter

- she is in her teens (so preferably a actress that fits that age)

- has dark hair eye colour doesn't matter

-would be amazing if she looks similar to at least one of her parents maybe even her Grandpa

Thank you guys have a great day 🥰

#daredevil #matt x daughter!reader #father matt murdock #matt murdock #elektra natchios #marvel #fanfic #faceclaim #send help #please help

[writercole]

Come Away with Me

Words: 999 Warnings: Fluff, Priest!Matt Murdock Credits: @deangirl93​ @huffle-pissed​ for the betas and the squeals and the love. A/N: My brain was trying to force me to be happy in my angsty fic so I cranked this out in like...half an hour? Enjoy. 

Matt Murdock never struggled with his vows, his faith. He felt that it was fated for him to serve the Lord as a priest, his blindness of sight leading to an abundance of compassion and understanding. Until he was assigned to the Blessed Lady of Mercy church parish and met the nuns of the convent.

They were all kind and humble, part of their own set of vows. But there was one woman who stood out. Sister Y/N was undoubtedly the kindest of the nuns, her capacity for empathy shining through every interaction she had.

She would sing to the plants when it was her turn to tend the garden. When she was to help with the homeless missions, she spoke to the visitors and smiled genuinely, like they were the only important person in that moment. Everyone asked for her when she was gone.

Matt noticed her first when she was sent to his office to drop off some paperwork. He noticed how her footsteps were quiet, as was her knock. He heard her voice and was immediately enthralled. Her scent was of gardenias and earth after a rain, pure and fresh.

He found himself seeking out her voice in the choir, the sweet sound making the hymns even more beautiful. He told himself that it was because she was the loudest voice.

There was always one of the sisters helping him, rotating in and out. He didn’t know how the scheduling worked, but he knew that she hadn’t been assigned to him once in his four years with the parish.

When Sister Kay arrived for her second rotation in a quarter, Matt started getting suspicious. He headed over to the Mother Superior’s office to get some answers.

“Father Murdock, what can I help you with?” Sister Emma asked as she stood.

“I was wondering why Sister Kay was assigned to me again so soon,” he explained, “I hope service with me isn’t being used as a punishment or a reward.”

“Oh, no, Father. Nothing of the sort,” Sister Emma insisted. “We had a new rotation start today, several of our sisters have only been involved in one or two of the assignments. Sister Kay is merely on our floater assignment this rotation. Sister Y/N had an appointment today. She’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Wonderful,” Matt replied. “If she’s ill, she can take all the time she needs.”

“Oh, it’s nothing of the sort, Father,” Sister Emma assured him, calming his mind.

“Okay. Thank you, Mother Superior,” he said, waving his hand as he guided himself out of her office with his cane.

The next morning, Matt walked into his office and smelled freshly brewed coffee and heard the keyboard ticking away, nearly masking the sound of humming.

He stood in the doorway for several moments, just observing in his own way, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

“Good morning, Father Murdock,” she chirped as she stood. “I have coffee ready and your messages are queued on your recorder. You have a counseling session in an hour and a meeting with Deacon Nelson for lunch,” she detailed as she maneuvered around the room with her hand on his arm, guiding him gently to his chair.

No one had ever been so thorough or helpful when they worked with him. He was very pleasantly surprised by this woman at every turn and he was dying to be surprised again.

The rotation was very smooth and Matt was able to get to know the woman under the habit. He had developed feelings for her, strong feelings, feelings that had him regretting the vows that he’d taken for the first time in his life.

He showed up to his office, finding the same smell of coffee and soft ticking of the keyboard that he had become accustomed to. The only difference today was the bouquet of roses in his hand and the unusual pounding of his heart.

“Good morning, Father,” she chirped as she did every morning, moving around her desk to help guide him to his office. “Those are lovely flowers,” she commented as she looped her arm in his.

“They’re for you, actually,” he replied awkwardly.

“Oh, thank you, Father!” she exclaimed as she took them from his hand. He heard her inhale deeply, presumably sniffing the petals. “No one has ever gotten me such beautiful flowers before.”

Matt heard her heartbeat speed up and he smiled. Now or never.

“Please forgive me if I’m out of line or if I read this wrong,” he started, “but, Y/N, I care for you in ways a priest shouldn’t. I lose sleep just imagining ways for us to be together. I’ve dreamt of how it would feel to hold you, kiss you, make love to you. I am willing to walk away from the priesthood for you. Just say the word and I’ll renounce the title.”

Matt didn’t hear anything but his own heart pounding. He began to wonder if she had gone, left him in the middle of his speech. His questions were answered when he felt a hand - her hand - caress his face, tracing his jaw where a day’s worth of stubble had grown in.

Her lips pressed to his in a soft, sweet kiss, calming his racing mind. The only thing he felt were her soft lips on his, moving slowly against them.

She pulled away, her hand still on his face and sighed a contented sigh.

Matt was grinning. She had kissed him! She sounded happy and her touches were soft, loving.

“Come away with me,” she whispered.

“I will follow you anywhere,” he promised. “Let’s go. Leave this place. Together.”

“Where to first?”

“Mother Superior then the Bishop,” Matt said. “After that, we’ll flip a coin. Heads we go east, tails west.”

“Perfect,” she smiled as she kissed him again before taking his hand and pulling him to the offices to deliver their resignations and find what this life had to offer them.

Marvel: @saiyanprincessswanie​ @princessmisery666​ @creatively-analytical​ ​ @harpers-ramblings​​​ @that-one-gay-girl​​ @stephv213​

Everything: @thelastpyle​ @deangirl93​ @downanddirtydean​ @katelyn--renee​ @fictional-affairs​ @lassie-bird​ @paintlavillered​ @buckys-zomdoll​ @polireader​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @welcometothefandommultiverse​ @mlovesstories​

#writercole #matt murdock #priest au #fluff #father matt murdock #priest matt murdock #matt murdock x fem reader #nun au

[souliebird]

[[and then i met you || ch.1]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.

a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.

words: 5.6k

You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man. 

You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.

The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis. 

You want to trust them, but you can't.

The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands. 

You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life. 

You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name. 

You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.

Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner. 

That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in. 

There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you. 

The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours. 

It scares you so much it's not your choice. 

You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that. 

A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information. 

She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."

The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter. 

It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take? 

You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices. 

Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.

You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.

Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.

You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.

Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?

Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running. 

This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.

You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.

Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

You trace it with your finger.

Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases. 

Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering. 

But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner? 

"All done?" 

Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.

"Foggy will be out in just a minute."

Your head jerks up at that.

"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."

You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left. 

You turn your head to follow her gaze. 

"Matt!" Karen calls out.

A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up. 

The cameras don't do him justice. 

Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.

Just like Minnie's. 

The realization shakes your entire world. 

This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world. 

You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer. 

You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.

You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.

It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"

"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you." 

You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest. 

He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"

"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that. 

Your throat gets tight again. 

You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat. 

Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"

You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment. 

Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it. 

"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office. 

This is it.

Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father. 

You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office. 

This isn't about you or your fears. 

This is for Minnie. 

You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you. 

He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart. 

But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain. 

He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.

You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him. 

"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it. 

You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before. 

Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.

"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.

Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic. 

His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen. 

You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."

He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.

"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party." 

The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.

"I think you are the father of my child."

All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up. 

You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.

You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.

He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth. 

"Are you sure?"

He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.

You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.

"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."

You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.

"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille." 

You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe. 

Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.

"...her?"

His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.

Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face. 

And you know.

You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well. 

This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy. 

"I have a daughter.."

"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.

"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity. 

You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention. 

If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger. 

"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper. 

"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe. 

He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up. 

"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"

"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."

"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.

"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times. 

 Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you. 

A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"

The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.

"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

 "She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."

You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good. 

Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"

"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."

Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"

You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."

"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him. 

He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"

Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."

"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."

He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying. 

"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there." 

You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"

You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes. 

"We can go at your pace, Matthew."

He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."

You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."

Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me." 

Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan. 

"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"

Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea." 

You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?" 

He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.

"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"

"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting." 

You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."

He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?" 

"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."

That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"

"Yes." 

You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."

The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office. 

Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the final partner for the law is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."

Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."

Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.

"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.

You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?" 

Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"

You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"

Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right." 

"I do, too." 

It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie. 

You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over. 

You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice. 

He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.

"Can I ask you something before you go?" 

You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."

"Can you tell me what she looks like?"

Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.

"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"

There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.

"Buddy, we gotta go."

You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."

A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him. 

"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.

"Thank you." 

You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.

"Can I call you tonight?"

"Yes, please." 

"Does eight work?"

"That's perfect." 

"I'll talk to you then."

You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.

Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man. 

You really hope he's a good father too.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fanfiction #soulie writes

[peterman-spideyparker]

Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)

Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.

Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 3,586

Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.

“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”

“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”

Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”

“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”

“I don’t—.”

“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”

“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”

“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”

“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.

“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”

“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.

“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.

“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”

“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”

“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”

“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”

Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.

“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”

“Well, she knows.”

He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.

Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.

“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.

“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”

“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”

Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.

Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.

“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”

“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.

“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”

He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.

“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.

“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.

“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.

“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.

“I—!”

You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.

“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”

Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.

“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close. 

“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”

You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.

You’re ovulating.

And you know it.

Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants. 

“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.

“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even. 

“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”

You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”

Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.

“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.

“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”

You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.

“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes. 

“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”

“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”

You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.

Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.

“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”

“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”

Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.

Shit. He loves you. 

He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.

Yeah, he loves you.

“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”

“Kay,” you hum.

Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes. 

“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same. 

“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”

The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”

“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”

Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt. 

“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.

“Completely,” he smiles. 

Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists. 

“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight. 

“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”

He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard. 

“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”

You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.

“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum. 

You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.

“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk. 

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”

“Are we now?”

“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”

Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin. 

His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra. 

“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.

“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.

“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.

“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”

You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.

“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”

“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder. 

“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”

“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”

“Yours! I’m yours!”

Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.

Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.

“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”

Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.

The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.

“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”

Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader smut #daredevil x fem!reader smut #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil netflix #daredevil disney+ #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #talented moots

[brianwashere]

Dad!Matt struggling to communicate with his nonverbal autistic son while he is overestimated

Hello hello hello. Back again with another fic! Btw my friend with autism proof read this to make sure it was accurate and not offensive so yaaaaaayyyyyy.

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from Daredevil**

Pairing: father!Matt Murdock x autistic!son!reader!

Genre: slight angst but ends with comfort

Summary: go to req

Tw: cussing, overstimulation, Matt sorta snaps at his son :(

All Too Much

It was a humid day. Too humid. Gross. Muggy. It made your clothes stick to your skin and made your hair damp. It made you want to gag.

Matt had to take you to work this Saturday. You didn’t really mind because you liked Foggy and Karen but the office smelled horrible and the color hurt your eyes. You sighed and flapped the hand that wasn’t being held by your dad.

“Almost there, Jr, c’mon.” Your dad seemed distracted, which means he couldn’t pay attention to what you were signing in his hand.

Not that you really could anyway; one of your hands was holding his. His phone was in his pocket which meant you couldn’t use the text to speech app he downloaded for you.

You two stopped in front of his law firm. He buzzed in opened the door, gesturing for you to go in. As soon as you walked in the smell of the neighboring offices hit you. The scent of smoke and mold and the feel of the dust brushing your face made you gag. You looked at your father. You wanted to tell him you didn’t wanna be in here.

“Alright Jr, up we go. I’m running late.” He picked up his walking stick and began jogging up the stairs.

You watched him and took a deep breath before following him up the stairs. You bit your bottom lip hard.

Every possible sense was immediately flooded with too much information.

The phone ringing. People talking. Papers flicking. All the different smells of individual people. Cigarette smoke coming in through the window from a neighboring office. The underlying stench of mold. The sun was too bright. The paint on the walls reflected a horrible color due to the light. Suddenly your once soft shirt’s collar gripped your neck too tight. It felt like every fibre of the shirt was rubbing just the wrong way on your arm hairs, your skin. There was a gross taste of sweat mixed with the copper taste from your now bleeding lip.

You noticed your dad was no longer beside you. You whipped your head around, your hair brushing your cheeks. You spotted him talking to Karen and holding some of his braille papers.

You hastened over to his leg and tugged on it lightly. No response. You shook his leg and made grunt. Still no response. Finally you hit his leg twice and made a high pitched whine.

“…Okay. Thanks, Karen keep working on that.” Matt finished with Karen and knelt down.

He looked mad.

“What? What could you possibly want?” His harsh tone was like a slap on the cheek.

He sounded mad.

Tears welled in your eyes and you ran into his office, slamming the door and hiding under his desk.

“Shit.” Matt sighed.

He took a deep breath in and walked over to the door to his office. He knocked three times.

“Jr? Can I come in, please?” He focused on you and what action may signal a response.

Then he heard a small sniffle.

Fuck, he made you cry. Shit shit shit.

“I’m coming in, ok?” He said.

He opened the door slowly and closed it gently. He walked around to his desk where he heard you crying. He sat on the floor across from you, next to his chair.

“Hey, I’m sorry Jr. I shouldn’t have snapped at you and taken my frustration out on you. Can you forgive me?” He whispered.

You looked at him through tear filled eyes and nodded but put your head on your knees.

“Can I do anything for you? Do you want your headphones?” He asked.

You nodded quickly. Your dad opened one of the desk’s drawers and reached inside. He pulled out a pair of noise canceling headphones and slid them to you. You peeked out from your knees and grabbed them. You put them on and began to calm down.

“Do you wanna stay in here until you’ve calmed down?” He asked.

You nodded again.

“You know that I love you, right?” Matt asked.

You shakily tapped his knee, your gesture for his hand. He held his palm out you formed “ily” in his hand and he smiled as he felt around it.

You put your head back down on your knees.

“Alrighty, Jr. I’ll check on you in 15 minutes.” You watched him get up slowly.

Before he left he scribbled something on a sticky note and stuck it in the ground close to you. When you felt the vibration of the door close you looked at the note.

‘Bye, Jr. I love you so so much.’

#marvel #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #marvel x male reader #daredevil x male reader #daredevil x autistic reader #father matt murdock x reader #Matt Murdock x son reader #Matt Murdock x autistic son reader #son reader #autistic reader #male reader

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Eight]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.4k

[Summary and Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: It's been awhile since this fic finally had an update, but here y'all go! Make sure you heed the added warning for this chapter--mentions/fear of miscarriage will be found in this update. Feedback is always appreciated!

Holding the soft cotton baby pajamas up in front of yourself, a faint smile ghosted over your lips. Unconsciously your left hand dropped down, landing on the swell of your growing bump as your eyes traced the cute pattern of white bunnies prancing around the yellow fabric. 

As you stood there staring at the pajamas in your hand, you could see a picture beginning to clearly form in your mind. A little baby with a dusting of dark hair like Matt’s was cradled in your arms, wearing this onesie. A clearly exhausted Matt shuffled his way into the bedroom, heading over towards you with a prepared bottle in his hand, his eyes half-lidded. His tee-shirt was wrinkled and stained with a bit of old spit up near the collar, but he clearly hadn't bothered to change. The only thing he seemed concerned about was his daughter in your arms. 

When he reached the pair of you, he extended his arms out to take her from you, eager to feed her. You passed her gently off to him, watching as he held her so carefully in his arms, pulling her in towards his chest like she was the most fragile thing on Earth. And then he'd lean down towards where she was cradled in the crook of his arm, talking in hushed tones with a broad smile on his face as tiny fingers reached up, brushing along the stubble of his jaw while he spoke. 

An expression full of warmth and love broke out across Matt's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed down at the little baby in his arms hungrily drinking down the formula from the bottle with happy, soft little squeaks and grunts. That glimmer of love in his eyes only grew more as he glanced back up at you, a smile full of joy and pride stretched wide across his mouth despite the fact that it was three in the morning.

“I cannot believe you're having a girl!”

The sound of Marci’s excited voice had the mental image quickly fading from your mind. Tongue feeling suddenly thick in your mouth, you blinked back the tears threatening to spill forth as that smile on Matt's face vanished from your mind completely.

It had been a beautiful image while you'd imagined it, at least.

Clearing your throat, you set the pajamas back onto the display table. Your gaze lowered to your bump, your hand affectionately running across it.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Finding out I'm having a girl definitely made this feel even more real than it already had been.”

“Are you going to tell Matt?” Karen asked from behind the display table, her blonde brows high on her forehead. “That you found out you're having a girl?”

You nodded, your attention returning to the little yellow onesie you'd set back down. Running your fingers across the fabric, an ache hit you hard in the chest. You did your best to ignore it. 

“I am, yeah,” you replied, glancing back up at her. “But I just found out this morning and I…don't exactly know how to tell him, you know? We've exchanged a few texts since he stopped by the other week and dropped off that pregnancy pillow and weighted blanket, but things are still a little odd between us. And I feel like this is news you share with the father in person, not in a text.”

“So you've been talking?” Marci asked curiously.

You watched as she pulled a tiny hanger from the rack she was looking at, lifting up a small green dress and showing it to Karen. The pair audibly cooed at the little outfit.

“A little,” you admitted to her. “It's hard for me to talk on the phone with him because hearing his voice is just…hard. It makes me wish things were like they were before.” The smile on your face faltered as you stepped away from the table, glancing at the vastly overpriced baby outfits on another nearby rack. “I admitted to him that phone calls are still a bit much for me, so he's been texting instead. Even though I know how irritating the speech to text feature on his phone is to him. So I get it. He is trying.”

“Certainly hasn't bailed yet,” Marci muttered, hanging the dress back on the rack. “Which I'm honestly proud of him for.”

You caught the pointed look Karen sent you and you sighed, aware of what that look meant.

“Yeah, I've noticed,” you confessed. “I see he's trying to be present. I see how emotional he gets at the thought of not actually actively raising this child. But here's the thing,” you continued, both women now focused on you. “I'm bringing a baby into this world, right? I'm not adopting a puppy. We're talking about a little human. Someone who's going to be shaped by their parents and how they're brought up and raised. Someone who is completely dependent on us to take care of them for years . And meanwhile, Matt does…well–” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “– that in the evenings. I think it's only realistic that I'm concerned about how serious he is when it comes to actually being there for the both of us after how he wasn't there for me the one time I needed him. I need to know I can actually count on him, especially when things get difficult. Or exhausting. Or if there's an emergency. The city can’t always come first, even if I admire him for what he does.”

“But he is trying to show you that,” Karen pointed out gently. “He messed up and he knows that. Believe me, he does. And while I completely understand your side, it's not like Matt isn't trying to earn your forgiveness and prove all of that to you, too. But it's sort of dependent on you giving him a chance to show you that.”

Running a hand across your forehead, you nodded. “I know,” you told her softly. “I know. Which is why I've been trying to give him that chance. It's probably better that I do before the baby comes when emotions will be even higher and things will be more complicated.” 

Eyes dropping down to your feet, you nervously chewed your lip. You’d been leaning towards giving him that chance he’d so desperately and repeatedly been begging you for ever since he’d last stopped by, especially after seeing how much the thought of not being an active parent to his child really upset him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still scared to give him that chance. To open up and let him back in knowing he could hurt more than just you this time.

“It’s just hard to willingly let him back in after what happened. After how he'd hurt me. Because I’m honestly afraid of getting hurt again,” you confessed. “And not just me, but I’m scared of his daughter getting hurt. Of him not being there for her like she’s going to need him to be.”

“You know, I’m surprising myself by saying this,” Marci chimed in, “but I agree with Karen. At first, after hearing the news that you were pregnant, I absolutely could not picture Matt wanting to be a present father with how much he does, well, you-know-what at night. But with how much he’s been over at our place talking to Foggy and I the past few weeks?” She shook her head, tsk’ing lightly. “Let’s just say I fear for the man, woman, or child that dares to say a single mean word to his daughter. I mean that man is fiercely protective over the both of you. I don’t think you have to worry about him not being there when either of you need him.”

Something warm slowly filled you at Marci’s words. Something like a tiny spark of hope. You hadn’t known he’d been going over to their place and saying these things, worrying about the pair of you so much. Granted, you hadn’t spoken to him much in months now so you didn't really know what he'd been up to lately. 

“Really?” you asked her, the threat of tears returning for a different reason.

Both Karen and Marci nodded their heads firmly, your eyes jumping between the two. That spark of hope burned a little hotter in your chest.

“He’s still in love with you,” Karen told you before pointing a finger at your belly. “And I can assure you, he loves that baby just as much as he loves you already.”

Crouched on the corner of a six-story apartment building’s roof, Matt’s head dipped and turned as he tried to remain focused on a conversation occurring in a nearby warehouse. He was doing his best to block out all the other distractions around him–like the sounds of car horns and the traffic below, sirens screeching in the distance as an ambulance made its way to the hospital, or the various arguments coming from inside the building he was perched atop. 

Something was happening tonight in his city. He could feel it. 

But as he tried to follow the conversation occurring half a block over, another noise abruptly broke through his carefully crafted concentration. Matt's gloved hands gripped the edge of the roof at the sound of it, his head instantly darting over his shoulder as the noise quickly overtook the sound of everything else.

Truthfully, he’d been attempting not to eavesdrop on you lately, trying to respect your wishes when he was out at night. Honestly he had been, too, especially since you’d actually been talking to him again, letting him in a little more even if it was only through texts here and there over this past week. He hadn't wanted to risk ruining the progress he'd suddenly made with you by trying to push your boundaries any further. 

But he absolutely couldn’t ignore the sound of distress coming from you in your apartment just a block behind him. 

You were crying. But not just crying in the usual way someone would if they were sad–something mournful and soft. No, it was a heart wrenching sound. Despairing. Painful. A noise that felt like an ice cold hand had gripped his own heart in his chest and squeezed .

Something was wrong.

A pained noise came from Matt as he rose to his feet, instinctively turning in the direction of your apartment. One booted foot took a step in your direction before he immediately halted in place. Gritting his teeth, his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts.

There was definitely a shipment of drugs being moved around in Hell’s Kitchen tonight, he’d absolutely learned that much from the conversation he’d been eavesdropping on. He had been on the cusp of uncovering where it was currently being held. All he needed was a location and he could alert the authorities to handle the rest. The streets of his city would once again be marginally safer because of him if he did. 

And you had already repeatedly asked him to stop appearing at your apartment as Daredevil and invading your privacy. If he showed up now, that would surely appear to you like he wasn’t respecting your clear boundaries. Which he knew wasn’t remotely true, but would you understand if he explained that he was just too in tune with you to not subconsciously pick up on a sound of distress like that coming from you ? That he couldn't exactly control his senses picking up on it?

Matt’s gloved hand ran across his mouth in frustration, his eyes snapping shut behind his mask. He was torn.

Did he force himself to ignore your cries in order to not possibly upset you further? To keep respecting your boundaries and to leave you alone like you’d repeatedly asked him to? Which would in turn allow him to attempt to focus on finding that drug shipment tonight instead, something he'd been determined to do. Or did he go to you?

Teeth still grinding back and forth, Matt fought to decide on the right course of action. But at the sound of a particularly heart-wrenching wail coming from your apartment combined with something like the noise of you falling down, his eyes snapped back open and he made up his mind. He didn't care if you threw things at him and yelled him off your fire escape when he showed up. There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to ignore whatever was happening in your apartment. Even if it meant he’d have to show up at your front door and beg you to forgive him on his goddamn knees for the next several months. He needed to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Taking off at a sprint, Matt darted across the roof he was on and headed straight in the direction of your distress. He barely registered much else in the city as he flung himself over rooftop after rooftop, the sound of his own panicked heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. He was focused solely on you and the continued sobbing in your apartment, trying his best to keep his mind from racing to a number of terrible reasons as to why you might’ve been this upset. 

By the time he’d made it onto your building’s rooftop, he quickly dropped down two floors until he landed with a solid thud on your fire escape. He heard your terrified intake of breath from inside your apartment, the sound of your head swiftly turning in the direction of where he was outside your window. He felt bad for startling you as he reached a hand out, knocking on the glass.

He expected you to start shouting. To tell him to go away. To tell him that he was an asshole who couldn’t respect your privacy. That you didn’t want to speak to him anymore because of it. Maybe to throw something at the window even.

What he did not expect was the way you softly sobbed out his name in a way that sounded almost like relief. Or the way your hands had clawed at the couch cushion beside you as you pulled yourself up to your feet, rushing over to the window as more fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

When you opened the window, the sharp, heavy scent of fear met his nose. The acrid tang was strong in your apartment, almost overpowering the salty taste of your tears in the air. And the sound of your racing and erratic heartbeat was roaring loud in his ears, mingling with the still frantic beating of his own heart. He could barely focus on much else as his own fear levels began to rapidly rise.

And then you surprised him yet again.

Your hands reached out through your window, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders and practically pulling him inside of your apartment. Speechless and concerned, he allowed you to drag him through the opening, moving as fast as he could to get to you. Though the way you whispered his name again as he climbed inside your apartment had his heart constricting in his chest.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “What happened?”

He'd barely had a chance to stand upright before your hands on his shoulders yanked him towards yourself. Your arms snaked around his neck, drawing him into a tight embrace as you buried your face right into the armor of his suit as more tears began falling down your cheeks. A strangled sob left your mouth, the heartbreaking sound partially muffled against his body. 

Matt didn't hesitate. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and wrenched you in tight to the front of himself. His eyes closed as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. Desperately he wished you were holding him like this under different circumstances because he'd missed you these past few months.

But something was wrong and he needed to focus on that right now.

“Sweetheart, you're scaring me,” he whispered, tears burning at his own eyes behind the mask. “What's got you so upset? Did something happen?”

You murmured something unintelligible against his chest, the words too muffled and disjointed for him to understand. 

“What?” he asked.

You pulled away from him, sounding as if you'd turned your head to look up at him as he reluctantly unburied his face from your hair. A large sniffle came from you before you answered him, this time more clearly despite the tremor in your voice.

“There was blood.”

It took Matt a moment to register what you'd said and what you meant. But when he did, he felt something ice cold flood his veins.

“I woke up a bit ago and needed to go to the bathroom. Like usual,” you explained softly. “And then I noticed that I–I was bleeding.” You sniffled again, your voice quivering more noticeably as you continued. “And it scared me. Because I'm terrified that–that something is wrong. With the baby.”

Matt's stomach dropped as you buried your face back against him. His gloved hands gripped your back tighter as he tried to remain calm and process what you'd said. 

“Was it a lot of blood?” he asked nervously.

You shook your head against him. “No. Not a lot. Just enough to notice it.”

“Okay, well that's good at least,” he said, running a soothing hand along your back as he tried to keep himself calm. “You're around twelve weeks now, right? It's not entirely abnormal for some bleeding to occur. I don't hear any cramping occurring and–” his head turned, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard to hear the baby's heartbeat over the panicked noises of your own body, “–the baby still seems to have a steady heartbeat in there. Which is–is good. From what I remember reading, that's a good sign that nothing is wrong. It's the first thing a doctor would check for to make sure the baby isn't in any danger. But if you continue bleeding we can certainly get you to a hospital, sweetheart.”

You drew your face partially out his chest, sniffling loudly yet again as Matt continued to stroke your back. It sounded like you had looked up at him, your tears gradually slowing. He focused back down on you, one hand leaving your back to gently brush some hair away from your damp cheeks.

“How do you know all that?” you whispered.

He shrugged a shoulder lightly, his hand still gingerly removing the damp strands of hair from your face that were stuck by tears. “I spend my free time reading up on pregnancy-related things,” he admitted softly. “So that I can maybe help if you need me. In situations like this.”

He heard the faint surprised intake of breath you'd taken at his answer, so quiet you probably hadn't even realized you'd made the sound. He felt your arms wrapping tighter around his neck, holding him close as you buried your face back against his chest. Despite how good it felt to have you back in his arms, Matt focused his senses back onto your body, doing his best to concentrate on the baby for a minute in the silence that filled your apartment.

“I'm not a doctor,” he murmured, still listening, “but nothing sounds different than what I've usually heard. I don't notice any more bleeding, and the lack of cramping is a good sign. Baby's heartbeat seems to be really strong.” 

Matt cleared his throat, turning his attention back on you. Your body had calmed in his presence–something that made him feel good but he was afraid to overthink about the why . Though your body still sounded panicked and stressed, something that concerned him.

“Maybe it's best if you take a seat and try to relax,” he suggested gently. “The stress probably isn't good for you or the baby. Let's just focus on calming down now, okay?”

“Right,” you said, the air shifting around you as you nodded against him. “You're right. It was just a little blood so I'm–I’m probably overreacting.”

“You're not overreacting,” he told you, guiding you carefully back to the couch and settling the pair of you down into the cushions. “You were scared. It's understandable.”

Matt sat down on the couch beside you, surprised once more when you scooted closer to him. He reached a hand up, removing the cowl from his head with one hand while running his other through his unkempt hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Matt's hand froze in his hair, his attention swiftly focusing on you. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

“For probably scaring the shit out of you tonight,” you replied. “I'm guessing that's why you showed up, right? You heard me freaking out?”

Matt smiled sheepishly back at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn't trying to listen in to your apartment, but you sounded so upset that I couldn't help but overhear you when I was out. I was afraid you'd be upset with me showing up though, because I know you’ve wanted me to stay away, but I couldn't just ignore you like this. I had to make sure everything was alright.”

He heard you sniffling again, your hands wiping at your eyes. Carefully he slid his arm around your shoulders, moving slowly in case he was crossing a boundary and you wanted to tell him to stop. But instead you moved even closer to him, eliminating the space between both of your bodies as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder. A small smile slipped onto Matt's face, his own head carefully lowering to rest atop yours. 

“Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you whispered. “I feel better with you here.”

Matt's heart thudded hard in his chest, that cold feeling of dread finally melting straight out of him as he held you against his side. You actually wanted him here. You were comforted by his presence, not upset by it. After the months apart from you which had felt like torture, hearing that had felt far too good.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he assured you quietly. He hesitated a moment before softly adding, “Though I certainly wish I could be here the times you don't necessarily need me, too.”

He felt your head turn along his shoulder as you settled even more comfortably into the side of him. Your body was relaxing further now that the pair of you had sat down. But Matt could hear just how tired you really were from the sounds of your body and he figured the scare you’d just had hadn’t helped.

“I know,” you replied softly. “Maybe we should have a talk about that. About things between us.”

Hope fluttered in his chest at your words, excitement flooding through him at what that talk might mean. He absolutely wanted to be back in your life far more than he currently was, but he knew right now wasn't the time for that discussion, not after what had just happened and considering how exhausted you sounded to his ears.

“Maybe I can take you for coffee this weekend and we can discuss things,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as over-eager as he felt. “Tonight let's just focus on making sure you and baby are both okay.”

Your head shifted along his shoulder and Matt could feel the way your eyes were on him now. Then he felt the sudden nervous energy that washed over you just before you'd opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. Clearly you wanted to say something but didn't seem to know how. He sat there quiet and patient beside you, wondering what you were struggling to get out. 

“This is probably not fair of me to ask considering our…situation,” you eventually began, your nerves apparent to him in your tone, “but could you maybe please stay here with me tonight? In case something does happen?”

That hope in Matt's chest grew further at your question, his body feeling like it could float up through the ceiling right now if he wasn’t more focused on the feel of you at his side. He made you feel safe. Even after how awful he'd been to you and how that had led to the break up, you still wanted him here. To protect both of you. Maybe he hadn't messed things up entirely beyond repair like he’d been worried about for weeks. Maybe he could fix things. 

Maybe you could actually want him in both of your lives again. 

“I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't ask,” you began in a rush when he hadn’t answered. “If it's too much to ask, I completely understand. I just don’t really want to be alone and–”

“I'll stay,” he assured you, his hand reassuringly squeezing your shoulder. “I told you, I'll always be here when you need me. I want to stay and make sure you're both safe.”

He heard you release the quietest sigh of relief, your body once again relaxing into his side. In the silence that followed, he also swore he heard a smile draw itself across your lips with how close he was listening to you, the muscles ever so minutely shifting along your face.

“You know how I mentioned that blood test?” you asked, breaking the silence a minute later. “The one where I could find out baby's sex and whether we're having a boy or a girl?”

Of course he knew exactly which blood test you were talking about. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it all week. He figured with what you’d told him about how long it took to hear back from your OB that you already had the results by now. It had been a struggle for him not to text or call you all week to ask you what you’d found out instead of focusing on his work that week. He’d been so eager for the news.

“Yes,” he answered. “I remember you telling me about it.”

“Well, I got the results yesterday morning,” you said slowly. “Did you…want to know what they were?”

It took everything inside of Matt to not blurt the ‘yes’ he gave you too fast. Though he’d grabbed your shoulder tighter in his grip, struggling to contain his excitement in anticipation of the news.

“We’re having a girl,” you told him. 

Matt’s eyes snapped shut, a large smile spreading wide across his face. A girl. You were both having a little girl. A little version of you running around. Maybe she’d grow to have the same laugh as you, the same laugh he missed hearing in his apartment ever since you’d left.

“I can’t wait to meet her, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sure she’ll be just as perfect as you.”

You curled up further against Matt's side, something like an embarrassed scoff leaving you. But as you sat there cozied up to his side, another thought crossed Matt's mind. One he'd thought about often lately. 

Nervously he chewed his lip as he focused on the sound of his daughter’s thankfully continuously steady heartbeat. Turning his head, he glanced down in your direction. He could feel the way you’d once again shifted against his shoulder, looking up to meet his eyes no doubt. There was something he’d been dying to do for weeks now, but he wasn’t sure if now was an appropriate time to ask, or if it would somehow make you uncomfortable. But he figured he’d try anyway.

“You can certainly say no,” Matt began cautiously, “and I would respect your answer completely. But…would it be alright if I could see if I could feel her moving yet? Is that too much to ask?”

You didn't answer him outright; instead he felt you reach your hands over towards him and pick up his right one. With ease you undid the straps of his glove, gently sliding it off of his hand before tossing it over onto your coffee table. Afterwards you slipped his hand up beneath your shirt, just over the slight bump his hands weren't used to feeling on you. His eyes closed again as he tried to concentrate his senses on your body in a way he'd never done before. A smile returned to his face as he felt you rest both of your hands over the top of his while he focused. He missed the simple feel of your touch.

It took Matt a few moments of concentrating before he noticed something ever so faintly shifting beneath your skin, something he’d never have been able to pick up on if it wasn’t for his senses. A soft, surprised chuckle fell out of him when he felt the faint shift again of what must’ve been a limb moving. There was no way for him to know whether it was an arm or a leg, but it was his daughter alive and well inside of you. The knowledge of that had tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“What?” he heard you ask.

“She's moving,” he whispered in awe. “I can feel her. It's faint, probably because she's still so small, but I can–can feel her.”

Your hands tightened over the top of his, the sound of your heart fluttering catching Matt's attention as he continued to focus on the baby growing inside of you. He wasn’t sure if your reaction was from the tear that had suddenly slipped down his cheek or something else, but it didn’t matter. Because this moment was easily one of the happiest he’d ever experienced.

With a huff you readjusted your head along your pillow, eyes opening once again in the darkness of your bedroom. You'd been having trouble falling and staying asleep tonight, too stressed about the bit of blood you'd found that had upset you earlier. Thankfully there hadn't been anymore tonight, but despite Matt's repeated reassurance, you'd felt embarrassed about getting distressed so quickly. 

You'd just been so terrified waking up, still partially drowsy, to find that bit of bright red on the toilet paper when you'd gone to the bathroom. The fear that you'd somehow lost the pregnancy at the sight of it had immediately panicked you, because in these past few months you'd grown so completely attached to your little Devil. The thought of losing her–especially now knowing they in fact were a her–was too much.

Knowing Matt was out there sleeping on your couch in the living room hadn't been helping you to fall asleep, either. Not because you didn't feel safe with him here, but because it just felt wrong that he was asleep on the couch. He'd never slept anywhere else but in bed with you in the past, and honestly you couldn't imagine your couch was all that comfortable. Especially to him of all people. 

And truthfully, if you were being honest with yourself, it was because you wanted him in bed next to you. Not down the hall, but right here where you could feel that he was actually with you. Where you could feel his comforting presence. Because you really did miss him.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tried to listen to the sounds in your apartment. For a moment you laid in bed, trying to hold your breath to see if you could tell whether Matt was asleep or not out in your living room. But as you sharply expelled the breath seconds later, the only noise you'd been able to pick up on was that of the city outside. 

Another few minutes passed where you laid there contemplating whether you should just try to close your eyes and fall back asleep, or actually get out of bed and ask Matt to come join you. But you weren't sure you should even ask anymore from him tonight, considering he'd clearly been interrupted from Daredevil-ing because of you. And then he had offered to sleep on your couch afterwards when you'd asked him to stay. Asking him to then come join you in bed–while you both were still broken up–seemed like such a gray area.

But at the same time, you were carrying his child. And you'd been afraid that something serious had almost happened tonight, and clearly he'd been just as concerned. It was obvious with the panic written on his face even behind the mask when he'd initially shown up. And he'd stayed . He could have left when he realized things seemed to be okay, but he didn't. And while it was only one situation that the pair of you'd encountered, it had meant a lot to you that he hadn't just left you. 

The pair of you were planning to get coffee together and talk this weekend too, so was it really all that bad to go out there and ask him to stay with you in your bed? 

For a while you just continued to lay there, your mind racing back and forth trying to land on an answer. Ultimately it was the memory of Matt shedding a couple of tears from earlier tonight when he'd felt your little Devil move–something you hadn't yet even managed to experience because you were not far enough along–that had you tossing the sheets off of yourself and climbing out of bed. 

Barefoot, you shuffled out of your bedroom before padding down the short hallway. When you reached the living room, you came to a stop just at the edge of the hallway, your eyes drawn to Matt. He was laying on your couch, his body curled in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the small piece of furniture. He had squashed a couch pillow up underneath his head, his eyes closed as he lay there. The plush blanket you always had on the back of your couch was draped over his lower half, but it was clearly too small to cover him fully as he lay there, his bare upper torso partially exposed. 

He looked like he was asleep, probably worn out from a long day at work and a night out as Daredevil before you'd gone and interrupted it. You'd almost turned around and gone back to your room, not wanting to disturb him, but then his eyelids flew open. Almost immediately his head rose from the pillow, his gaze landing on you across the room as a look of worry crossed his face, his brows drawing together. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Awkwardly you leant up against the wall beside you, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“No,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong. I just can't really sleep. My mind is too loud.”

The worried crease between Matt's brows slowly disappeared as he pushed himself upright on the couch. The blanket that had been draped across him slid down, revealing more of his bare chest in the dark room. He'd clearly been trying to sleep in his boxers since the suit would have been too uncomfortable, and for some reason that only made you long for the comfort of his warm skin cuddled against yours in bed.

“Is there something I can do to help?” he asked. 

Running a hand nervously through your hair, you tried to ignore your increasing nerves. You figured it was best to get to the point and just ask for what you wanted, leaving the decision up to Matt after that. 

“Would it be too much if I asked you to stay with me?” you whispered. “Not on the couch, but actually with me? Just for tonight?”

“If that's what you want,” Matt replied. “I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you'd prefer me to stay out here, especially because I don't exactly have anything to sleep in.”

You shrugged a shoulder, glancing down at your bare feet. “That doesn't exactly bother me,” you told him, aware he could hear the truth in your answer. “I just don't want to be alone after earlier. And I'd feel a little better if you were with me.”

Matt removed the blanket from his lower half, his own bare feet landing on the floor. Rising wordlessly from the couch, you watched as he maneuvered around the coffee table like he'd done so many times in the past before he made his way to you in nothing but his boxers. 

Hesitantly you reached a hand out, entwining your fingers with his when he neared. Turning in the hall, you guided him down the length of it and back to your bedroom. Matt easily followed your lead, his soft footsteps echoing yours as you led him into your room and towards the bed.

You released his hand when the pair of you reached the foot of the bed, making your way over to the side that was always yours. Matt continued on his way to the side that had always been his, his fingertips lightly dragging over the comforter as he moved. 

Climbing back into your bed, you felt the mattress dip under the weight of Matt settling onto the other side. You smiled a little to yourself as you tried to get comfortable on your side, wrapping your legs around the pregnancy pillow Matt had gotten you the other week.

“Would you prefer me to stay on this side, or…?” 

Matt's question hung in the bedroom, his meaning clear despite him not finishing it. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, your head turned just over your shoulder towards him as you answered. 

“You don't have to tonight.”

Without waiting for further invitation, you felt Matt shift along the bed closer to you. His warm hand carefully landed on your hip, halting there for a moment as if testing your boundaries. Then very gradually his palm slid downwards until it was gently cradling your bump over your shirt. His warm body slowly sidled up to the back of yours and your eyelids lowered, your body relaxing at the safety and familiarity of him.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered into the dark.

Matt's fingers traced a light pattern over your stomach, the gentle touch causing a warmth to linger in their wake.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he whispered back. “From now on, I promise you that.”

The smile on your lips grew a little wider as your own hand sought out his. Your fingers entwined with his over the growing swell of your bump, like a protective barrier that the pair of you were making between the world outside and the little life growing within you. Then gradually you finally fell asleep. 

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 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible

[I have no idea why some of these tags aren't working 😭 If I misspelled something please let me know!]

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #mentions of child abuse #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)

[courtforshort15]

How Sweet It Is (to be loved by you)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 3,300

Summary: Matt Murdock is the sweetest man you’ve ever known.

Warnings: Sweet and gentle smut. Yup, good old College!Matt taking care of reader during her first time.

Masterlist

Matt Murdock is a lot of things.

Intense.

Passionate.

Intelligent. 

Resilient. 

Beautiful. 

But your favorite thing that he is...is sweet.

No one should be that happy to attend a grueling class about civil law, but Matt has always been the exception, not the rule, throwing everyone off their axis, time and time again.

He is sweet in the way that he walks you to as many of your classes as he can, hand linked with yours, despite the fact that sometimes you think it should be the other way around, that you should be the one guiding him to his own classes, helping him navigate through the crowds of students and finding an empty seat in a lecture hall. But Matt Murdock knows the campus like the back of his hand, so you don't worry about him making his way to where he needs to be, knowing he’ll make it just fine on his own with a backpack thrown over his shoulder and a charming smile lighting up his face.

He is sweet in the way that he stays up late to help you study for exams. He helps you prepare note cards, quizzing you on facts and terms that he has long since mastered. He is two years ahead of you in the law program, and while he has plenty of homework and papers he could be working on, he always makes sure you're settled and confident in your own knowledge and abilities before he moves on to his own assignments.

He is sweet in the way that he rubs your back and whispers soothing words into your ears while you're in the middle of an anxiety attack, hands clenched in his t-shirt and helpless tears sliding down your face through wet eyelashes, trying and failing to match your breathing to his. He asks you what you need from him, what he can do to make it better, and when you tell him that all you need is for him to hold you, he keeps you pressed up against him for the rest of the night and into the morning, hand rubbing up and down your back in a motion that reminds you of the way your father used to comfort you through thunderstorms. 

He is sweet in the way that when he kisses you, it's with everything he has. You are his sole focus, the only thing he is thinking about when his mouth is on yours, soft lips shifting between petal light and the kind of passion you’ve only ever seen on a movie screen. The hands he roams over your body vary in their pressure, vary in their intensity, but they are always soft and ready to slow down and ease up if you need.

He is sweet the first time he's inside of you, the first time anyone is inside you, and you can’t think of anyone you’d rather experience this with first.

To be honest, you can’t think of anyone you’d rather experience this with ever.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his mouth ghosting over yours as he helps you remove your pants, tossing them to the carpeted floor in his bedroom, the off-campus apartment he shares with Foggy a far cry from your cramped dorm room. Your shirt and bra soon follow, a gentle movement of color that lands somewhere behind you.

"Yes," you say in reply, reaching for his own clothing and failing miserably to remove them, fingers trembling in nerves and a level of eagerness you haven’t felt before. He steadies your hands, raising them to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the knuckles, before he takes his shirt off himself, exposing broad shoulders that already carry so much weight on them, though the weight never dims the smiles that he sends your way. 

It's not the first time you've seen him without anything covering his chest, having spent time pressed against him as he gently tore your boundaries down through smooth skin and patience as he waited for you to be ready for this exact moment. But it's the first time you've seen him like this, bathed in the moonlight that's streaming through the window, face a mixture of anticipation, excitement and the flash of hunger that’s been appearing on his face more and more often.

You know that if he could see, he’d find the exact same look staring back at him. 

He's sweet in the way he leans into you and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, a thoughtful and wordless way to remind you that he's going to take good care of you as the pair of you move into this next step of your relationship. You can feel his want pressing into your abdomen, an aching testament to his desire for you, but you have no doubt that he’d stop if you asked him to, your name on his lips shifting from passion to comfort immediately and without question.

You have no intention of asking him to stop tonight, though.

Matt's lowering you to his bed before you know it, placing you so that you're on your side facing him. He's pressed against you in a way that leaves little to the imagination of how much he wants you, and you can’t help but rock into him, savoring the small gasp that leaves through his parted lips. His skin is nearly scalding, but the heat barely registers because the temperature matches yours, and how can he burn you anymore than you’re already burning? 

He is sweet in the way he pushes your hair back behind your ear, wanting full access to your face, fingers trailing down your cheek and cupping your jaw so that he can lift your mouth towards his, dark eyes fluttering shut. The hand slides into your hair once his lips have captured yours, cradling the back of your head in his palm, the pressure tender even while it’s firm.

With your free hand, you slide your fingers into his silk boxers, marveling at how the skin is somehow unbelievably softer than the fabric. It matches, you suppose, the texture of his skin as gentle underneath your fingertips as the sound of your name leaving his lips. Your hand slides lower so that you can grasp him fully, and while it's not the first time you've held him in your palm, it's still the first time you've been ready to cradle him in a different part of your body. 

He helps you push his boxers down his hips before he slowly removes your own underwear, fingers pausing to draw a few circles on the inside of one of your thighs, and the movement is more sensual than you could have ever imagined. You are completely bare to him in a way you haven't been before, and though you know he can't see you, you delight in the way that he already knows your body far better than you do.

Matt has spent time tracing every bump and scar of your body, reading them as easily as he does the bumps of braille on a piece of paper, studying every reaction you have to his hands on your body. He has learned to use each sigh and gasp and movement to his advantage as he pushes you to a peak only he can give, and you can do nothing but moan in his ear as he whispers words of love and praise into your skin.

He is sweet in the way that he gently coaxes your thighs apart, fingers urging you to open for him, voice quiet in your ear to once again ask if you're alright with the way he's touching you. You kiss him in response, offering him a level of comfort that comes with another wordless reply of your shy but enthusiastic consent, and his hand settles between your legs and over the place that aches for him the most.

"You're so wet for me, sweetheart," he breathes against your cheek as he lifts your leg to lay across his hip, encouraging you to sink closer into his side as he slowly slides a finger into you. Your body accepts him as eagerly as it had the first time he had touched you weeks ago, and you’re helpless to do anything but sigh and press further into his hand. You're not exactly a stranger to his fingers inside of you, but this time the intention is to not only make you feel good, but to also prepare your body for the rest of him, and the knowledge causes goosebumps to creep up and down your arms.

He adds a second finger, and the stretch causes a gasp, which he quickly swallows down as he leans forwards to press his mouth against yours. His breathing is in sync with yours, a steady in and out that’s increasing in its frequency as the two of you further explore the flesh and bone and muscle that you've laid out for each other.  

He encourages you to finally roll over so that you're fully on your back, and once you're settled, he hums in contentment. Leaning down, Matt allows his mouth to trail down your jaw, down your neck, and over your breast where he pulls a nipple lightly between his teeth, laughing lightly as you arch into him. He adjusts his body so that he's stretched out above you, though most of his weight is resting on the arm and hand that's been placed next to your head, always so careful to not hurt you or cause any sort of discomfort. 

He always treats you like stained glass, though not in a way that suggests you’re fragile or easily broken, but in the way that says you’re far too precious for him to ever let go of.

"You're such a good girl for me," he whispers, and he's just loud enough that you don't have to strain your hearing to make out what he's saying. The praise causes your face to flush hotter than it already is, and you can't think of a coherent reply, too lost and too dizzy with the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s playing your body like a violin. Instead, your fingers drum a light pattern on the shoulders they've wrapped around, and he shudders at the contact. 

You love knowing that his body is every bit as sensitive as yours when it comes to your fingertips tracing over his own skin.

He is sweet in the way he continues his journey further down until his mouth is above where he knows you ache for him. With no thought of himself, he lays down on his stomach, resting his weight on his elbows, and uses the fingers on one hand to part you. His mouth is on your clit a second later, tongue lightly circling around it, and you moan quietly, his name on your lips. The sound must spur him on, because while he starts out soft and tender, his mouth gradually speeds up and increases in intensity.

He wrecks you with his lips and tongue and fingers, and it's not long before you're gasping through your release, one hand grasping his bedsheet so tightly you're shocked you haven't ripped it, the other hand buried in his hair. Somewhere along the way he had placed an arm strong as steel over your abdomen in an effort to keep you still while he tore you apart. 

Matt makes his way slowly back up your body, pausing here and there to place kisses along your hips and abdomen and chest, lips glistening even while they open in a smile that somehow is a combination of smug satisfaction and a look that is so soft and affectionate it makes your heart stutter.

"You okay?" he asks again, the dry fingers that hadn't been inside you softly caressing your cheek. His eyes are glazed and unfocused, but you look up and admire the color and the way they almost seem to dance around your face. You’re not sure how you’d ever survive without him, this man who had asked to share a table with you in the crowded library just six months ago, this man who had the ability to make you feel so seen despite his lack of sight. 

"More than okay," you whisper back, your voice breathless as you lift your own hand to run it through his dark hair. He takes the opportunity to kiss your fingers as they trail down his cheek and briefly over his lips, smiling as he does so. 

"Do you still want to--"

With a quiet laugh, you pull him down for a full kiss, tongue immediately pushing into his mouth that remains slightly parted in a grin, and he echoes your brief huff of laughter. It quickly turns into a moan, as does yours when he grinds his hips into you before he reluctantly tears himself away, a small smirk appearing on his face. 

Matt reaches over you to grab a condom off of his night table, and you watch as he sits back on to his heels to slide it on, briefly mourning the thought that you won't feel the silk of his cock pressing into you, but you figure one day you’ll get to that point. There's no reason to rush it now. 

He is sweet in the way he checks in with you again, hand returning to your cheek, an easy way for him to map out the expression on your face. He smiles when his fingers run over your lips, no doubt discovering your own smile that you're wearing, the one that you seem to wear solely for him. You nod, quietly giving your consent once more, and he wordlessly helps you to spread your legs wider so that he may fully lay between them, the heat of skin settling almost completely into yours.

He drags his cock through your folds, catching your earlier release on the tip to slick the way, and with a deep breath, he pushes in. There's a slight burn at the stretch, but you embrace it wholeheartedly, knowing it’s simply the stretch of Matt finding yet another way to make himself home within you. Touching Matt this way, feeling him this way, is something you've been thinking about since the first time he kissed you.

He is sweet in the way that he goes slow, patiently waiting for you to adjust and feel comfortable, and it's not long before he's seated completely inside you, hips snug against yours. He leans down to kiss you, red lips caressing yours softly at first before it shifts into something that's a little more heated, a little more passionate, perhaps a prelude for what’s to come. 

"You're doing so well for me, sweetheart," he says against your mouth, and the words make you sigh in response, hips once again tilting up to rock into him, and he retaliates with a slight withdrawal and careful push back in, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp. "You feel so good. Does it feel good for you, too?"

"Yes," you tell him truthfully once you reopen your eyes, hand running down his back, the skin just as soft as the front of him and warm to the touch. "You feel perfect."

You feel his mouth split into a grin against yours, and you can't help but let out another quiet groan when he pulls out of you slightly before sliding back in. He is beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed, damp hair resting on his forehead. You reach up to push his dark hair away from his face and trail your fingers down his cheek, and even while he continues to slide in and out of you, he turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist. 

You've heard many terms used to describe what you're experiencing with Matt. 

Having sex.

Screwing.

Fucking.

But none of those accurately or even come close to the feeling of this. You've never liked the term making love, finding it somewhat cheesy for whatever reason, but here in the moment with him, nothing else sounds more right, nothing else captures what it feels like to be with him like this. The way your bodies move together is selfless, seeking the other's breaking point, savoring each breath that's gasped out, each slide of skin against skin. 

He is sweet in the way he makes sure you come first, fingers running down your body to eventually press and rub over your clit, a slow grind meant to both make the moment last while also sending you rushing towards your peak, one that gets closer and closer with every thrust and press of his hips against yours. With his lips hovering just above yours, barely half an inch away, he tells you how much he wants you to come for him, tells you how perfect you feel underneath him and wrapped around him in every way you can be. 

He rests on top of you for a few minutes afterwards, sweat soaked skin pressed into sweat soaked skin, and the weight of him somehow still feels weightless, as if holding him to you like this is the most natural thing in the world. When he pulls out with a gentle kiss to your forehead, you can't help but reach for him again, despite the fact that he only takes one step away from the bed to throw away the condom. You're back in his arms a split second later, and the world rights itself once more.

When he tells you that just once will never be enough for him, that he will always need this with you, that being inside of you is the first place he's felt at home in years, you absolutely shatter. The way your clench around him, crying out his name, sends Matt to his own release, his lips immediately crashing to yours in effort to touch as much of you as possible. 

"I love you," he whispers into your ear, pulling you as tightly against him as possible, angling your head so that it rests on his shoulder, yanking up the top sheet to cover you both as he gently presses your face into his neck. It's the most vulnerable part of his body, and he exposes it to you, no questions asked. 

"I love you, too," you tell him quietly. Your hand moves to where he's wrapped his own around your waist, lacing your fingers with his. It's not the first time you've said the words to each other, but this time there’s the feeling of added weight to it that you're not sure to describe other than to say that it just feels like more.

He is sweet in the way that those words continue to fall from his lips as easily as breathing for the rest of your lives, despite the hardships and complications and revelations that come along the way. He is still sweet in the way he walks you to places you're more than capable of walking to by yourself, simply so that he can have just a few extra minutes of being next to you. He is still sweet in the way he stays up with you the nights before big cases you're up against, even while he's exhausted and being bandaged up at the kitchen table. He's still sweet in the way he holds you during anxiety attacks, and the way he kisses you like it's the first time his mouth is on yours.

He is still sweet as he slides a wedding band on your finger in front of friends and family, promising to love you and give you all that he has, day in and day out, asking with dark eyes and cherry red lips for nothing but the same promise in return. He’s no longer hesitant in the question, an early life of abandonment having given way to the endless love and commitment you’ve pressed into his skin over the years.

Even through various frustrations and tears, you’ve found yourself forever unable to be anything but sweet to him in return.

#Matt Murdock #Daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #college matt murdock #reader first time #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x afab reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #matt murdock smut #daredevil smut

[writingdumpster]

first impressions

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: none I think

summary: i wrote this purely bc i know matt murdock is excellent at meeting people’s mothers. after impressing your parents matt gets to thinking about his future.

word count: 1.6k

“I’m nervous.” You sat next to Matt in the restaurant he had chosen for the evening. It was fancy. There was a pianist in one corner of the room and linen tablecloths. It was nicer than the hole-in-the-wall joints that you and Matt usually preferred. He wanted to impress your parents though, so he had made a reservation at a swanky restaurant in midtown Manhattan. 

Matt was in his court suit and you had donned the blue silk dress he bought for your anniversary. It was by far your favorite dress. Beyond being a treasured gift, it fit you perfectly and the fabric always felt soft against your skin. Karen had helped Matt pick it out, but she had told you that all she did was describe the dresses and that he had completely ignored her opinions. She had strongly recommended a yellow dress but he had refused her suggestions, insisting you would like the one he picked better. Never having seen the yellow one, you knew he was right. If he picked it, you loved it. You would have him choose between options you put out when you got dressed in the mornings by describing them to him and he always had you match his tie to the rest of his outfit. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Matt said and kissed your temple. 

“I only ever introduced Caleb to my parents,” you told him, not that you hadn’t said it before. Matt knew that Caleb was not someone you had pleasant memories of. He had heard the stories from you and he was the one who helped you get over many of the fears that Caleb had struck into you. Matt was remembering those stories while he heard in your heartbeat how nervous you were. 

“You know I’m not like Caleb,” Matt reminded you. 

“I know, Matt. I just…this is a big deal for me,” you said. 

“It’s a big deal for me too, sweetheart,” Matt told you. “It’s just an exciting big deal for me.” You inhaled deeply. Matt smiled. “You have nothing to worry about. Moms always like me, angel. It’ll be great,” he assured you. 

“All women like you,” you said. Matt laughed lightly. 

“Then that will include your mom, won’t it?” He asked rhetorically. He gave you a light peck as he tangled his fingers with yours beneath the table. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed. You sighed. 

“You’re right. I know they’re going to love you. I just…” You hesitated. 

“Caleb was a mistake and you think it’s bad luck,” Matt said, always knowing what you were thinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“This isn’t a mistake, sweetheart. I promise. It’s just the next step,” he told you. You nodded and Matt gave your hand a squeeze. You looked up at the doorway to the restaurant. 

“They’re here,” you said. You rose from the table and greeted your mom and dad with hugs. Matt was standing by your side with a charming smile across his face. 

“Hello, Mrs. y/l/n,” Matt greeted with a smile. Your mom held her arms out to Matt and pulled him into a hug. He returned it kindly.  

“Oh, please, call me y/m/n,” your mom said. “Y/N has told us so much about you. I think we can be on a first name basis,” your mom said. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as your mom told Matt how you spoke about him. Matt simply turned to you and smiled. He loved that you told your parents about him. He wished he could tell his dad all about you. Your father held out his hand for Matt to shake. Matt stayed still, not wanting to give up his powers. You took Matt’s hand and pulled it to where your father’s hand was waiting. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” your dad said in embarrassment as he shook Matt’s hand. Matt chuckled lightly. 

“That’s alright, sir. Took y/n months to stop answering me with nods,” Matt joked. 

“It was not months,” you said sharply. 

“You still do it sometimes,” Matt teased. You pursed your lips, biting back the comment about how you knew he could tell. The four of you sat down, Matt pulling out your mother’s chair for her before doing the same for you and taking his seat.

Matt was right about mothers loving him. He charmed your mom with his dry sense of humor and enchanting smile. He won your dad’s approval when he mentioned he owned his own law firm. Your father didn’t need to know that Nelson and Murdock was nearly always on the edge of bankruptcy. Your parents told Matt stories about you from your childhood, despite your protests that they were too embarrassing. Matt loved the stories. All he could do was smile at you. The night was perfect. Matt was perfect. Your father refused Matt’s attempt to pay for the meal before the four of you left. You said your goodbyes in front of the restaurant before getting into different cabs and going back home. Matt’s hand was resting innocently on your leg while the two of you sat in the back of the cab. 

“I told you it was going to be fine,” Matt teased you. You rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, you were right, Murdock,” you agreed. Matt chuckled. 

“Doesn’t happen that often. I have to brag when it does,” he said. The cab pulled up outside of your apartment and the two of you got out. You made your way up the stairs and walked through the sliding door. The glow of the billboard outside of your window was blue. A new advertiser had taken over a few weeks earlier and the red light that usually filled the room had been replaced with a blue light, making it seem like your apartment was bathed in moonlight. You were looking through the mail that you had collected on your way up. 

You realized you didn’t know where Matt went when music started playing. You smiled to yourself as you tossed away the junk mail. Suddenly you felt hands on your hips as Matt pulled you away from the counter. He spun you around and moved one of his hands to the small of your back. The other went to cup your hand in his. You giggled before moving to wrap your free arm around his shoulders, fingers tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck as the two of you began swaying back and forth. Matt loosened his hold on your waist and moved to let you spin beneath his arm before pulling you back into his body and dipping you. 

When Matt pulled you back upright you leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. Matt smiled against your lips. You stared into his eyes when you leaned away. His eyes were so beautiful. You never cared that his eyes didn’t see you the way yours saw him. He saw you in so many other ways. 

“You really impressed them,” you said as you leaned closer to Matt, tucking your head against his neck.

“I told you moms like me,” Matt said. 

“My dad liked you too though,” you said. 

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “We just can’t let him visit my office. He won’t be impressed anymore.” You chuckled. 

“I certainly hope he won’t ever need a lawyer,” you said. 

“If you hadn’t needed a lawyer we never would have met,” Matt reminded you. 

“Yes, and that worked out very well,” you agreed. “But when we tell our kids how we met I think we should make something up.” Matt beamed. 

“Our kids?” He asked. Your heart dropped for a moment and your face went blank. 

“I mean, umm…” You started stuttering. 

“We’ll have to get married first,” Matt interjected before you could start backpedaling. Your panic turned to excitement. You grinned. 

“You obviously have my parents' approval now,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“And you’ve certainly gotten Foggy’s approval,” Matt replied. 

“Foggy likes me better than you,” you said with a laugh. 

“Yes, I know,” Matt said flatly. “He’s very clear about that.” You held back your giggles. 

“If you came into the office with cookies instead of bruises like me he might like you more,” you joked.

“I do bring in cookies,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, but Foggy knows I made them,” you said. Matt sighed. 

“He wouldn’t like me at all if I brought in cookies that I made,” he said. You giggled at the memory of Matt trying to make your birthday cake and causing the building to evacuate after setting off the smoke alarm. 

“When we have kids I bet he’ll like them better than both of us,” you said. Matt smiled. 

“That’s alright. We can use him as a babysitter that way,” he said. 

“Maybe if Karen’s there too,” you said. Matt chuckled. 

“You don’t trust Foggy with our kids?” He asked. 

“Matty, you have told me far too many stories about you dragging Foggy back to your dorm after a frat party for me to trust Foggy with our kids,” you said. “He will most certainly let one of them do something stupid.” 

“And you think I won’t?” Matt asked. 

“You won’t let them do something stupid, you’ll do it for them,” you said. Matt spun you around in his arms once more as the song came to an end. He kissed your forehead when he pulled you back against him.  Matt’s heart was full at the way the two of you were so casually talking about your kids. He hoped it wouldn’t be long till they were real. He knew what he wanted. He didn’t want to wait for it anymore. There wasn’t anything stopping him now.

“You want to go ring shopping tomorrow?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock imagines #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #charlie cox x reader

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 2163 (chapter 23)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES.... Some time??? (I'm super busy and super stressed)

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

23. Smoking Day

The streets of Hell's Kitchen were too busy for Tuesday morning, and you were cursing the guy in a white Jeep in front of you non-stop for at least 5 minutes, until a familiar figure on the sidewalk caught your attention. Rolling down the window, you didn't think much before loudly calling the person, "Murdock, is that you?"

Matt turns to the left, startled again, and almost hits somebody's ankles with his walking stick. "Y/n?"

"Get in here before I drive off!" You open the passenger door and wait for Matt to get in, holding the traffic behind yourself now.

"How kind of you this early in the morning." Matt gets comfortable, feeling a little overwhelmed by the smells in your car - the cigarettes, car perfume and your own scent, plus the bag of leftover fries that you threw out this morning. 

"Yeah, this early, what were you doing here? As far as I remember, you live on the other side of the city." You say casually, maintaining your focus on the road and that white Jeep.

"Creep." Matt throws back just as casually, but then puts his seatbelt on, "I was in a church."

"Oh, living up to your nickname, I see." 

Matt remains silent on this remark, although on a different day he would've fired something back at you. "What got you so early?"

"I just wanted to grab something from the store." You lie, tightly gripping the wheel. You just wanted to get out of the flat as soon as possible, not standing the thought of being with Robert in the same room for longer than 5 minutes. Because of him, you left without breakfast or coffee. 

"Did you do it already?" Matt asks, visibly concerned about you lying of such a simple thing.

"No, it's... Not that important now." You pass the Jeep and notice a guy talking on the phone. "Ready for the court?"

"As ready as one could be with no real, jury-convincing evidence." Matt laughs lightly, even though his preparation for today's court was ridiculous. 

"I don't know why, but I just feel that we're gonna win." You say plainly, only later taking notice of how you used 'we' with such an ease.

"You know, I feel it too." Matt says, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

In the corner of your eye, you notice a new cut on his hand, and something upsets you. You don't try to keep the conversation going, focusing on the busy road, until you park almost outside Nelson and Murdock. Matt, understandingly, keeps silent until the roar of the engine finally quiets down. Uncomfortably, you clear your throat, "you want to go to the office?"

Matt unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns towards you, "what time is it?"

"Eight. Too early for Foggy to be here." 

"Yeah, you're right."

You reach for the glove compartment and it slightly bumps into Matt's knee. "Sorry," you mutter, quickly taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, trying to close the glove compartment but it falls onto Matt's knee again, causing you to drop your lighter somewhere near his shoes. "Fuck-"

"It's okay, I'll take it." Matt steadies your arm that was already reaching for the lighter, and holds it above his knee, next to the still open glove compartment, tapping around his shoe a couple of times, before finally grabbing the thing. "Here." He reluctantly releases your wrist, handing you the lighter.

"That damn thing never closes from the first time," you quickly close the glove compartment and pull back your arm, feeling your cheeks heat up a little. Matt bites a smirk, raising his eyebrows a little over the top of his shades. "Fancy a smoke, Murdock?"

"I... wouldn't say no." 

"I would've kicked you out if you said no." You grin to yourself, putting a cigarette in your mouth and lighting it up, repeating the last action with Matt. The reflection of the flame on his red glasses felt as if you just had a glimpse of what hell looks like. Matt inhales and then blows out some smoke, slightly opening his doors.

Another moment passes by in silence, and only when you feel the tension leave your muscles, and slightly slump in your seat, you finally say, "you know, I came to the conclusion, just now, that I know absolutely nothing about you."

Matt chuckles slightly, finally taking off his glasses, "I could say the same thing."

"Well, there's nothing fascinating about me, while your story is probably twice as interesting as mine would be."

"Oh, why's that?" Matt can't help but smirk.

"Well, for starters, you lived here your whole life, right? Why? What kept you here?" You steal a look at him, taking notice of his unfocused eyes looking into nowhere.

"My blindness." Matt blows out the smoke, turning his head away, "my dad."

"What about your mom?" You ask carefully, watching how Matt's jaw tightens.

"Never knew her."

"Oh." You fall silent again, looking at the cigarette slowly turning into ashes.

"But there's no need to pity me," he throws as casually as possible, yet the change in him is visible.

"That's why you're going to the church?" You blow the smoke out through your nose, feeling the slight stinging in your nostrils. 

"Kind of. What brought you back here? Life in LA wasn't for you?" Matt quickly asks, not liking the way his interrogation was going. The cigarette between his fingers felt weird, yet somehow familiar.

"LA was honestly too much. But I felt like I was needed here, in this God-forbidden city." You chuckle lowly.

"Hey, it's not that bad, is it?" Matt inhales the smoke again, feeling as if it became easier to be alive.

"Depends on which side of the society you are. But the crime rates are high enough to make one go insane." You look at him again, noticing how the early morning sun has illuminated his face. "My dad's words, not mine."

"Did you tell him," Matt quickly shakes his head, but now it was too late to drop the question, "or anyone else about the attack?"

"No. I don't want to worry him with such nonsense."

"You almost got shot, that's not nonsense, y/n." Matt turns back to face you, with a frown on his face.

"Key word - almost." You huff, suddenly feeling a warm, heavy hand on your forearm. 

"Please, just don't say that nothing happened-"

"Nothing did happen, and just-" you look at his bruised knuckles, and close your eyes for a moment. 

"Y/n, what is it?" Matt hears your heartbeat picking up, and a single tear running down your cheek, unnoticed and unfelt, leaving only a tickling sensation on your skin.

"I-" You remember the night you slept with a grazed arm, sweating, tossing and turning in your sleep, feeling like someone was going to break into your apartment and squeeze the life out of your neck, leaving your limp and lifeless body with the deep shade of blue handprints on your neck for your father to find. "Nothing." You smile instead, pulling your hand to yourself. "Not the time to worry you with my things when Melissa's court is coming up."

Matt bites his tongue, feeling like another opportunity to get you to open up slipped away again. He was about to say something, anything, when Foggy surprised him by opening the passenger doors abruptly.

"Morning, colleagues!" Foggy shouts, scaring the crap not only out of you, but of Matt as well. His next words were followed by a loud gasp, "Matty, you're smoking already?"

"Yeah, she's a bad influence on me." Matt chuckles, not lying a bit. After all, lying was a sin. 

"Come on, we have to finally set things straight," Foggy pulls away from your car and loudly takes a deep breath, "I'd say I can already smell the victory but all I smell is this horrendous lung-destroying stink." 

"Foggy-" Matt begins, getting out of the car and dropping the cigarette butt on the ground, "di-"

"Did you bring coffee?" you say, reading Matt's mind, and a stupid grin appears on his lips again.

"I sure did, now let's go, before I start asking more questions about all of this." Foggy quickly waves his hands around your car and turns to cross the road, leaving you as Matt's guide again.

*** 

"She told me yesterday that she'll be here." Foggy whisper-shouts near the entrance to the court, looking around anxiously.

"Did you call her?" You ask, fidgeting with your phone in the pocket of your coat, trying to ease your mind before you light up another cigarette.

"Of course I did. Many times!" Foggy throws his hands in air in a hectic manner.

"Foggy, just calm down, you're worrying about the wrong things now. Karen is a grown woman, we'll get to her after the court." Matt puts a hand on Foggy's shoulder, feeling how tense he is. 

"Maybe she's just sick, focus on winning the case." You say, looking at the two men in front of you - Foggy, who has been acting like he was sitting on a row of needles since morning, and Matt, unusually quiet, and... Observing. At any chance he got, he was trying to stay close to you, and that made you nervous. 

"Right, right, case now, Karen later." Foggy mumbles under his breath, slipping away from Matt's heavy hand. 

"Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson." Annie appears next to you, and you earn a suspicious look from her.

"Annie, about time we head in." Foggy says, smiling, yet his eyes told that he was scared. 

"You sure you're not going?" Matt asks you one last time, feeling that if you sat next to him, since Karen bailed, he'd feel more confident in winning.

"No, good luck." You pat his shoulder, as a way to control yourself from doing something else. Like kissing him. "I'll be back in the office in case anyone comes for advice." 

"Sure, goodbye." Matt says, savouring your touch, and listens to your heels clicking on the concrete.

"Shall we go?" Annie asks cautiously, eyeing Matt after this bit of conversation.

"Yes, trust us, we're going to win." Foggy guides Annie inside, keeping Matt on track with his elbow as usual.

*** 

Karen was busy trying to convince Urich to expose Union Allied and their lies. She didn't feel guilty about leaving Matt and Foggy, because for her, it was more important to catch her previous workplace in their web of lies. She also didn't feel guilty because you were there in the court. Karen, on any other day would be dropping everything just to go with Matt and Foggy. Well, especially Matt. She couldn't lie to herself and deny that he was an attractive man, full of mysteries and secrets that just waited to be unveiled by her. He was an attractive man and she was attracted to him on so many levels, that if he asked her to marry him, she would say yes without any doubts. 

Yes, that was her problem. Although not the biggest one at the time. Her biggest problem was Union Allied that was eating her brains at night, disturbing her thoughts and not letting her fall asleep easily. The feeling of hope was still alive inside of her, driving her crazy and desperate. 

So desperate that couple of hours later she found herself sitting in the auction, buying an old printer for the biggest price ever, hoping to find something useful for the last time.

*** 

Foggy and Matt returned almost before the work hours were finished, both laughing and nudging each other. "Uh, did something happen?" Foggy asks, still teasingly, but the look on your face said more than words could.

"What? What is it?" Matt frowns, quickly reading the room, although no one, beside you has been here today.

"Good news - I found Karen. Bad news - we're 3 thousand more in debt." You say, taking a look at Karen's computer, where the letter of her today's purchase was sent.

"What? How?" Foggy crosses the room and looks at the screen over your shoulder, quickly reading the letter. "Fax, printer, copier, conference phones? What?" Foggy reads the letter again, not believing his eyes.

"What's happening, y/n?" Matt comes next to the table and leans on it.

"Karen bought them from the auction, the equipment will be soon here." You sigh, leaning back in the chair.

"What was she thinking?" Matt asks in disbelief, feeling how the happiness abandoned him again. 

"And they're used. Half of this crap probably won't even work." You scoff, not even hiding how disappointed you felt. After all, your plan was to buy a new fully-functioning printer next week. Oh well.

"Okay, let's just wait for Karen tomorrow and listen to what she has to say." Foggy pulls away from the computer, leaving you and Matt facing each other. "Can we refuse to take them? Just in case?" He asks, slightly pacing around.

"We can throw them straight with trash, but we still have to pay for it." You answer briskly, feeling the urge to smoke again. 

"Well... Shit." Foggy sighs loudly, slumping into the nearby chair.

"Yeah, indeed." Matt bows his head as well. The previous cheerful mood, all gone in an instant.  

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matts superhearing complicates things for you #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock #marvel daredevil #matthew murdock #father lantom #foggy nelson #karen page #bound by law