||Orians' Character List and Request Rules|| REQUESTS OPEN !!
My Popular Tags:
#shitpost / #orianrambles ;; (random posts and asks)
#mywriting / #masterlist ;; (all of my writing and masterlists)
#otherswriting ;; (other blogs writing)
#fanart ;; (all art I reblog. Mine and other posters.)
This is my main masterlist post. Where I will include separate fandom masterlists. In each fandom masterlist I will have categories for each character I write for.
This main masterlist will include each character I write for and my rules.
IF YOU DO NOT STATE A GENDER IN THE REQUEST (male, female, GN, Transmasc) I WILL AUTOMATICALLY MAKE THE READER GENDER NEUTRAL. SO PLEASE BE SPECIFIC IF YOU WANT A SPECIFIC GENDER USED, I CANNOT READ MINDS :)
I please ask that you be 18+ before interacting with my blog as well!
Slasher Masterlist ||
Borderlands Masterlist ||
The Walking Dead Masterlist ||
Marvel Masterlist ||
Wip List ||
Art Info ||
Link Tree ||
Slashers:
Who I write for - (Key| * Favorite | + Only mlm | # No Smut/Only Platonic)
Michael Myers
RZ Michael Myers
Otis Driftwood*
Thomas Hewitt *
Bubba Sawyer*
2017 Jedidiah Sawyer*
2017 Drayton Sawyer
Brahms Heelshire
Bo Sinclair*
Vincent Sinclair*
Lester Sinclair*
Charles Lee Ray
Tiffany Valentine
Stu Macher*
Billy Loomis
May add more!
Borderlands:
Rhys Strongfork*
Handsome Jack*
Timothy Lawrence*
Vaughn
Zane Flynt
Professor Gladstone
Zer0 #
Brick
Mordecai*
Axton
Tiny Tina #
Scooter*
Krieg #
May add more!
The Walking Dead
Daryl Dixon*
Rick Grimes*
Negan Smith*
Abraham Ford
Carl Grimes #
Aaron +
Tyreese Williams
Glenn Rhee
Paul (Jesus) Monroe +
Beth Greene #
Alden
May add more!
Marvel:
Peter Quill
Peter B. Parker
Matt Murdock
Foggy Nelson
Bruce Banner
Bucky Barnes
May add more
Basic Info:
- I will write gore
- I will not write for self-harm/suicide!
- I can write NSFT themes.
- I do draw a line at some freaky kinks. Like pedophilia, incest, scat, odd/illegal stuff like that.
- I also will not do rape/consensual rape themes in detail. They can be included as an implication, but I will not write out the acts.
- I will add trigger warnings before each story/headcanon list if it does contain substance use, abuse, sexual trauma, NSFT, etc. Within it!
- I do plan to keep the reader gender-neutral unless said otherwise! Or if it's self indulgent then I may do one or the other gender :)
- I am fairly open to a lot, honestly. If I'm uncomfortable with it I'll let you know and add it to this list!
A/N: Short drabble because Mothers Day sucks when your mom abandoned you at a young age lol (I have been crying all day, and this is the only thing that helped me cope somehow)
Happy Mothers Day to The Stars;;
Characters: Loki, mentions of Thor, Frigga, and
Loki had been off and on Earth. The God of Mischief was also a curious one. Often finding himself enthralled by the different cultures of different regions. Especially the ones that were far less civilized.
He noticed a lot of the regions seemed to have reoccurring holidays. Christmas, Easter, Hanukkah, and a few others that seemed to share symbolic meaning.
While others seemed to celebrate particular loved ones. Grandparents Day, remembrance day, Fathers Day, Mothers Day.
He would once smile humbly and view the holiday as a day to celebrate Frigga. In secret, of course. Not anymore, though. Now, he had the emptiness of neither a real birth mother. Nor an adoptive one. One abandoned him, and the other was dead.
He never truly understood what he did to deserve such cruel punishment. The moment that he was born, it was as if he were a joke to the God's. Perhaps he should have been the God of Humor instead.
His own mother shunned him for his mere size. How could he control that? Why does mother hate her baby?
He'd ponder this thought every day for the rest of his life. He often wondered why he was never worthy enough. Not to his mother, his father, or even his birth parents on Jotunheim. It was always someone else.
Mother's Day was a new kind of sour taste in his mouth. A day to celebrate the woman who brought you life. Pathetic. Why would he do that? Why would he celebrate the two women who abandoned him when he needed them most?
Silly mortals. Why would you celebrate a life you're doomed to have. A curse of the living.
When Thor found out about the holiday, he was joyous. He told Loki not to mope but to celebrate the memory of their mother. As if those memories didn't haunt him day after night.
He was not worthy of love because he was unworthy all along. No monster like him deserved the love of a mother.
Even if he knew that gentle touch could have steered him from the path he originally took. He'd never fully blame his mother's. Not when it was so easy to blame himself.
They gave him life after all. And while the holiday seems horribly stupid. He still whispered a "Happy Mothers Day" to the stars.
||Orians' Character List and Request Rules|| REQUESTS OPEN !!
My Popular Tags:
#shitpost / #orianrambles ;; (random posts and asks)
#mywriting / #masterlist ;; (all of my writing and masterlists)
#otherswriting ;; (other blogs writing)
#fanart ;; (all art I reblog. Mine and other posters.)
This is my main masterlist post. Where I will include separate fandom masterlists. In each fandom masterlist I will have categories for each character I write for.
This main masterlist will include each character I write for and my rules.
IF YOU DO NOT STATE A GENDER IN THE REQUEST (male, female, GN, Transmasc) I WILL AUTOMATICALLY MAKE THE READER GENDER NEUTRAL. SO PLEASE BE SPECIFIC IF YOU WANT A SPECIFIC GENDER USED, I CANNOT READ MINDS :)
I please ask that you be 18+ before interacting with my blog as well!
Slasher Masterlist ||
Borderlands Masterlist ||
The Walking Dead Masterlist ||
Marvel Masterlist ||
Wip List ||
Art Info ||
Link Tree ||
Who I write for - (Key| * Favorite | + Only mlm | # No Smut/Only Platonic)
Slashers:
Michael Myers
RZ Michael Myers
Otis Driftwood*
Thomas Hewitt *
Bubba Sawyer*
2017 Jedidiah Sawyer*
2017 Drayton Sawyer
Brahms Heelshire
Bo Sinclair*
Vincent Sinclair*
Lester Sinclair*
Charles Lee Ray
Tiffany Valentine
Stu Macher*
Billy Loomis
May add more!
Borderlands:
Rhys Strongfork*
Handsome Jack*
Timothy Lawrence*
Vaughn
Zane Flynt
Professor Gladstone
Zer0 #
Brick
Mordecai*
Axton
Tiny Tina #
Scooter*
Krieg #
May add more!
The Walking Dead
Daryl Dixon*
Rick Grimes*
Negan Smith*
Abraham Ford
Carl Grimes #
Aaron +
Tyreese Williams
Glenn Rhee
Paul (Jesus) Monroe +
Beth Greene #
Alden
May add more!
Marvel:
Peter Quill
Peter B. Parker
Matt Murdock
Foggy Nelson
Bruce Banner
Bucky Barnes
May add more
Basic Info:
- I will write gore
- I will not write for self-harm/suicide!
- I can write NSFT themes.
- I do draw a line at some freaky kinks. Like pedophilia, incest, scat, odd/illegal stuff like that.
- I also will not do rape/consensual rape themes in detail. They can be included as an implication, but I will not write out the acts.
- I will add trigger warnings before each story/headcanon list if it does contain substance use, abuse, sexual trauma, NSFT, etc. Within it!
- I do plan to keep the reader gender-neutral unless said otherwise! Or if it's self indulgent then I may do one or the other gender :)
- I am fairly open to a lot, honestly. If I'm uncomfortable with it I'll let you know and add it to this list!
Send a letter for more information on my muse’s likes and dislikes! Inspired by kinks discussed around the internet. The (explanations) are mere guidelines, feel free to elaborate as much as you’d like!
A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)
B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?)
C - Crying (is it a turn on? a turn off? do they cry during sex? have they cried during sex? what was the reason?)
D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)
E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)
F - Food play (do they like using food in the bedroom? are there any foods they prefer to use during sex or foreplay? any they’d like to try?)
G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)
H - Humiliation (does degradation and insults get them hot? do they get off on humiliating someone else? what kind of humiliation is good for them?)
I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.)
J - Jelly (what kind of lube are they using? is it flavored? have they tasted it? do they prefer to use something other than real lube during sex?)
K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?)
L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?)
M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)
N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)
O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)
P - Photography (are cameras allowed in the bedroom? do they send nudes? do they ask for nudes? would they ever record themselves having sex / being caught up in a sexual act?)
Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)
R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)
S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)
T - Top or bottom (self explanatory…)
U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)
V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?)
W - Water (pool sex? bath / shower sex? are they into watersports at all?)
X - X-dressing (do they crossdress as a part of teasing / foreplay? does crossdressing turn them on? turn their partner on? do they prefer to do it or watch their partner crossdress instead? do they use other costumes? cat ears, tails, etc?)
Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)
Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)
I've been starving for some Rick Grimes angst, but I mean, ANGST. Like reader getting caught by some people and they try to SA them (doesn't have to be explicit if you're not comfortable) or they torture reader and reader is almost dying, but somehow they manage to get out. Rick finds the place they brought the reader to, but when he gets there he sees a bunch of men killed and reader gone. Reader is looking for them and spend a few days by themselves, trying to survive and get back while being completely hurt. Rick and everyone else thinks reader is dead, but then they find the reader or the reader finds them.
(could you do this with the reader being AFAB? I feel like it would fit better, but if you want to do it GN that's totally fine) Love your writing btw, I feel like you bring the feelings very well.
A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I appreciate the kind words so so much. I also love the idea, honestly. I've wanted to do a vent story for a while so I took this as an opportunity. Hopefully it's not too dark for you.
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat SA (NOT detailed!!!). AFAB! Reader, Trauma, mentions of sexual abuse, abuse, and excessive swearing.
Cabins;;
---------
Rick followed the sound of footsteps on the forest floor. A hatchet gripped tightly in his left hand as he picked up his pace with each step. Closer, and closer he felt to losing it.
You had been missing for nearly seven hours now. God only knows what could have happened to you. Scared, lost, alone.
Rick felt his blood boil at the thought.
When he finally made it to the source of all the shuffling and movement. He realized it was a walker. Too old and rotten to have turned recently, but still mobile enough to be a threat to him and the others.
To you.
Rick didn't even seem to notice that he had killed the Walker until he heard shouting from behind him. A touch to his shoulder caused him to whip around. Sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped it away, only to look at the back of his hand to see blood mixed with his sweat.
"I said that's enough, Rick," Daryl scolded his friend. A furrow in his brow as he stared. He knew what Rick was going through. He went through the same thing when he lost Beth and Merle. He went crazy. All that mattered was finding them. Daryl knew better than to get between Rick and finding you, but he also didn't want to see his brother killed due to stupidity.
Rick looked down at the walker that was once swaying towards him. It was a mutilated pile of flesh on the ground. Bone protruding as the runny fat mixed with blood and other juices on the ground. It was almost as sickening as the smell.
"We're gonna find 'er." Daryl spoke, making Rick clench his jaw. He needed to find you. He'd die if he felt he was the cause of another persons death. Let alone yours.
"Yeah, I know," Rick nodded his head, responding to his brother. Yet they both knew that they in fact didn't know. They had no clue where you were, or who had taken you away. Hell, you could be dead and long gone by now. Rick shook his head, he couldn't think like that. Not when he had this gut feeling that you were still out there, somewhere.
You were out there, too. Not far away from where the others stayed. Camped in their broken house.
You were in a house too. Not the same one. You were drug off your camp when you wandered too far off grid. Locked away in the woods. With a group of men who had every intention but a good one.
You almost wished they were a hoard of walkers.
You screamed and cried once you woke up and realized the cabin was empty. No one came though. You really thought if you closed your eyes, it would make it all better. Yet, it did far from that.
Your limbs were weak and you shook from the bruises and scratches that littered your body. All you could do was stare at your hands. You lay, scared and helpless. Your whole life you told yourself you'd never let another person take advantage of you. Not like those stories you read in the paper or online in the safety of your room way back when.
When safety was an option and not impossible.
The pain in your head from where you were hit hours ago, still hadn't faded. It felt worse, as if it were to explode from the lightest of touches.
All you could think of the entire time, too. Was Rick. Yes, you thought of the others. Carol, who was a close friend of yours, now. Who you knew would be so strong and cold if she were in your place. Maggie, who was like a sister to you, who you knew wouldn't be crying like you were. Daryl, who was like a brother. Who would have kicked their asses already.
You thought about Rick because you were certain if he knew of your location. He'd tear into these men.
His voice rang in your ears while you cried on the cold, wet floor. You missed him, and all you could do was replay memories with him in your head to keep you from dying there on the floor. You were so weak and everything just hurt.
Why did you have to go out by yourself?
Why couldn't you stay behind and actually wait for Daryl to accompany you on a run?
Why did you have to be fucking stubborn?
"Stop it," you hissed to yourself. You almost didn't even realize that you had said anything. If it weren't for the echo in the room, you probably wouldn't have noticed.
You were right though, you needed to stop. There was no use going over the 'whys' and 'what-ifs?'. That would be a never-ending list that would only lead to more frustration. Right now you had better things to do than belittle yourself. Even though it was so hard not to when you felt responsible for it all.
"A stupid girl, wandering these woods all alone? Well, ain't that like a bunny hoppin' right into a wolfs den?"
A sob ripped through your throat as the voice repeated that phrase over and over in your head. Almost overpowering Ricks voice in your head that told you to keep your eyes open and to stay strong. Almost.
Alone? Yes, you were, but you weren't stupid. You had been with Ricks group long enough that you know how to take care of your own. Even if you aren't the best at it. You know Rick would try fighting, so why not you?
It's just, you weren't a fighter. You wanted to be, and you truly believed that you could be if you needed to be. You knew you weren't though. Especially not in the state that you were in.
You crawled your way to the wall. Pushing yourself up by pressing your back against the wall. Wincing as you scraped open wounds against the drywall.
It wasn't until you heard screaming that you felt weak to your knees, again.
That blood curdling scream, matched with gunshots and men shouting. There had to be a hoard, and you were anything but armed.
You were covered in your own blood and your energy was quickly depleting. You could barely move, making you a perfect snack for the undead. You barely even reacted when the door burst open. The sound of your name could faintly be heard. Everything felt so muffled in your ears, though. The world was spinning. All you could see was someone running at you.
You couldn't tell if they were living, either.
Your body collapsed against Daryl's chest. He nearly dropped you. He almost didn't reach you before your knees gave out below you. "Hey, hey, I got ya," his voice made your eyes part. They were almost glued shut from the tears and sweat. "Dar," your voice was so weak, hardly over heard from the commotion outside.
"Shh, save it, we gotta get ya outta here," Daryl muttered, pushing his arms under your shoulders. He drug you out of the cabin, motioning for the gang to follow.
"I got 'er!" He yelled, and everyone turned to face him. The men that attacked you were all dead, but the hoard was still active. "Let's get the hell outta here!" He motioned again for everyone to follow him.
Rick was quick to scoop you up on the other side. Aiding Daryl in carrying you out of danger. He was fighting everything in him to not stop the running so he could look you over. See the damage they really did to you. He knew that would get you both killed, though.
"Fuck!" Maggie shouted as she stumbled over branches. Carol stopping in her tracks to turn and help her friend up. Walkers ganging up on the women, pushing them away from you, Daryl and Rick. Rick pulled you up into his arms. Lifting your feet off the ground, bridal style. "Go," he told Daryl, and he nodded before pulling his crossbow up to his face. Aiming as he ran to get the girls.
Ricks only priority right now was getting you the fuck out of there. He knew the others could take care of themselves. They knew where to meet him.
He ran. He hadn't ran this hard in weeks. Your camp in the woods had been successful 'til now. His calves burned with the extra weight of you in his arms. Having to pay even better attention to his surroundings. So he knew he wouldn't fall with you in his arms.
He slammed his shoulder into a door. Pushing his back into the door to slam it closed. He stood still for a moment. Listening to the noises outside. He could hear the hoard passing. He hoped he was fast enough they lost sight of where he had went. The gurgling and moaning from outside got louder. His heart was like a drum in his ears.
'Just keep walking.'
He could hear a few outside the door, now. Scuffing their feet along the rickety porch of the shed.
What felt like hours, but was probably only two minutes. He could hear them crunching through the leaves. They were leaving.
Rick let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding in. His attention was on you now. Your limp body in his arms. He knew you weren't dead, though. He could feel your pulse in your wrist. He dropped to his knees while lowering you onto the floor.
"Oh sweetheart," he muttered, wetting his lips while he examined you in the dim lit room. The only light was coming in through the shitty little window on the door. He had no idea where to start. Your clothes were covered in dirt and blood. Your skin looked the same. Your lips were cracked and bleeding, from where he assumed you were hit. Your cheek swollen. He felt his jaw clench. He didn't do enough to those men when he bashed their skulls in.
He brushed hair from your face, holding your head in his lap. "I'm so sorry," his voice was nearly a whisper. "I'm so sorry," he felt his eyes sting with tears. Rick was quick to blink them away, though. Now wasn't the time for that.
When you woke up, Rick was right there. You were in a bed now. Well, a cot. It beat the cold floor that you were on earlier, surrounded by people you didn't know.
Rick pulled himself closer to you when he noticed you were awake. He refused to leave your side once he made it back to camp with you. That was near four hours ago, now. His hands grabbed the one closest to you. He squeezed it lightly. "Hey," his voice was shaky. "You're safe," his reassurance made your eyes scan the room.
You weren't in that shitty cabin. You were back at camp. Ricks words only seemed to make the realization that you were alive. Come crushing down even harder.
Tears flooded out of your eyes. You couldn't stop it. A sob leaving your lips as you're reached out for the man beside you. He showed now reluctance. Ricks strong arms were now wrapped around you. One around your waist while the other rest on the back of your head. "Shh, I got ya, I ain't gonna let nothin' else happen to ya," he lulled you. He kissed the side of your head, pressing his forehead against it. "Ain't never gonna let anything happen to ya again," he promised while you cried into his shoulder.
Ricks shirt was soaked in your snot and tears. He hardly cared though. He let you cry for as long as you needed. Doing his best to calm you when you'd forget to breathe. Your fist balled against his chest while he comforted you.
You couldn't believe that you let this happen. Your body was shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I let myself get caught," you choked, "I could have fought, I got scared," his grip on you tightened a little. Pulling you further into his chest. "Hey, you did just what you needed to do. You survived, you're back home. It's okay," you shoved him back. Your eyes wide.
"It's not okay, they wanted to, they" you shouted, but your shout quickly died down. You started stuttering when you realized your outburst. A few more tears rolling down your face. "I'm sorry," he shook his head, one of his hands reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry they hurt you and that I wasn't there to save you," he admitted.
It was quiet again. Just the two of you staring at each other. Ricks grip still on your waist. "I thought I lost ya f'r good," he muttered. His eyes flickering over your face. You'd never felt so safe in someones arms.
You leaned forward, shaky. Your body hesitating as you closed the gap between your faces. He stayed still, watching as you moved closer. He was scared if he moved he'd startle you.
You pressed a kiss on his lips. A small gesture that he almost didn't reciprocate out of shock. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, though. Your body melted against his. "I thought I'd lost you," he repeated, when you pulled back from the kiss. His eyes were dazed, his cheeks flushed. He let out a nervous chuckle. A small giggle slipping from your lips. "Thank you, Rick," he tilted his head. As if to ask 'what?'
You shifted a little on the cot. "Thank you for making me feel safe." He smiled so warmly. A fire was ignited in his chest. Warmth from affection and ego. "Anything for such a sweet girl," he leaned forward once more. Pressing a soft kiss against your lips again. He did his best to not agitate the cut on your lip. You hardly cared, though. Not right now, at least.
When he pulled back this time. His forehead rested against yours. "I should probably let ya rest. I could go get ya some food?" He offered, returning the smile that you offered him. "I'd like that."
A/N: hey, so I havent written for a while, and tumblr was stupid and posted this out of my drafts the first time. So I kind of half passed the ending </3 hope its good though, I had fun with it. Thats all I care about lol.
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Male!Reader
Warnings: It gets smutty. Matt has a dirty mouth fr. Talks of blowjobs, penetration, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, hand jobs, lmk if I missed anything
"Father," he wrung his hands together. Bowing his head as he sat in the confinements of the confessional.
"Yes, my child," he answered, and Matthew gulped. "I'm sinning again." He chuckled, "It seems to be all I know how to do." The priest let out a soft laugh of his own. "I remember being your age. Young and spry. It's easy to do, and good that you recognize the sin. Rather than ignoring it and pretending you do no wrong."
Matthew smiled at the words. How could he pretend he did no wrong when it seemed all he knew what to do was wrong?
"So, what is bothering you today?" The Father asked, yet Matthew had no idea how to word what he wanted to say.
"I believe I'm in love with a man." He blurted, and The Father hummed. Thinking to himself, yet spewing no judgment. He was solely a messenger for God. He had no authority to judge the man in the booth beside him.
"Does this other man know?" He asked, and Matthew chuckled. "I don't know. I'm too worried to ask. I know he feels the same, but it feels wrong." The Priest hummed again at his words. "How do you know he feels the same?" "I just know." It was easier seeming arrogant rather than explaining that he could hear your heart pounding in your chest anytime Matthew got close to you. Or how it would skip a beat anytime you looked at him. Matt's surely did the same thing.
"You know, it may be sinful, but it doesn't mean you have to keep running." Matthew was unsure if he was implying that he should tell you how he feels. Or that he should completely smite you from his life. He came here to confess, yet that didn't mean he would listen to any advice given to him.
"Thank you for listening, Father. I have to go now," "So soon?" He sighed, smiling faintly. Matthew seemed to do this often. He'd come to ramble a little, and then scamper away like a scared cat. "I'll see you again, well, hear you," The Priest spoke, and Matthew smiled. "I'll hear you later, Father."
----
The tap of his cane was heard through your apartment. You weren't doing anything other than reading. Smiling softly as you tossed your legs lazily over the couch and headed for the door. You pushed it open, just a bit. This was how you "spied" on Matt to make sure he was walking home alone. Normally, you could hear Foggy following the blind-man home. He often chatted Matt's ear off the whole way down the hall of the building. Even into the apartment.
There were times you peaked, and you saw Matt with women before, too. The one you ran into on occasion in the hall when she visited him. Karen was the name Matthew repeated. "You probably ran into a woman on the way in. That's my friend Karen," he told you the one day he invited you over for coffee. "She's really pretty," you told him, and he smiled that smug smile. "She is?" He asked with a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he was being rude until you realized the joke. Smacking his shoulder with a playful laugh.
What you didn't realize was that each time you peaked out your door. Your neighbor heard you.
The moment your feet touched the floor of your apartment, he could hear you. The way you almost scampered to the door. Like you were in a rush to beat him before he opened his door. He always took his time fishing out his key so you could see him, though.
He heard the click of the doorknob as you opened your apartment. Just enough for you to see out. When you opened the door, it was like an invitation inside. He had rarely been invited over to your apartment - he always wondered why - but when you opened the door, he could hear the sound of your TV playing faintly in the background. The smell of the food you made prior for lunch and maybe even supper, too. Your coffee from earlier was stale now, the smell lingering the strongest down the hall. It always made his nose scrunch just a little.
Your fragrance was just strong enough to push through, though. Always drifting down. He always imagined a trail leading to your door. In the same shape as the trail that fresh pies left behind in the cartoons he watched as a boy while his father was out boxing.
That's what he imagined every time you opened that door. A tempting trail, tickling his nose and begging him to wander just a few doors down. It begged him to stumble in and say he got disoriented and wound up in the wrong apartment. An invitation just for him.
"Hey Matt," he turned his head at your voice. He stopped searching for the key in his pocket. He pretended to search longer than he really needed to, just so you had time to make yourself known.
He turned his head towards your voice. A small smile tugging every so gently at the corners of his lips. Just like they always were after he noticed you. "Hey, stranger," he greeted back. His body now turned to face you.
"You need help unlocking your door?" He often asked you to help him. It was easier than playing find the lock in the dark, essentially. He also asked, so he had an excuse to brush his fingers against yours. Sometimes even the excuse to hold your hand a bit, just so he's sure he doesn't drop the key.
But today wouldn't be one of those days. Not because he didn't want your help. Matt just had a sort of plan that he may or may not have just come up with on a whim.
"It's appears I left my key at the office," he told you with a faint chuckle. Reaching his cane-free hand up to rub the nape of his neck. "Maybe Foggys right, I should tie it to a necklace or something." He couldn't believe he was lying to you right now. Even if it was a little lie. What was his plan after?
You were shocked. Matt had never officially locked himself out since you've lived here. Then again, the once or twice that he had. Foggy was with him, and Foggy had a spare just for that reason.
"I can call Foggy for you?" You offered.
Bingo. There was his plan.
"Really? That would be very kind of you. You dont have to if I'm inconveniencing you, though. I don't want to bother you," he couldn't help but smile a little to himself. Along with at your generosity.
"Matthew, I'm calling Foggy. You'd never be a bother. Let's go sit in my apartment while we wait, okay?" Your gentle grasp on his bicep made him inhale sharply. It was your way of guiding him to your apartment. Such a simple, kind, and innocent gesture. Possibly just a friend helping a friend. In fact, he knew it was.
A man could use his imagination, though. He liked to think about you clinging to his arm as you strolled down to your shared apartment. If had the cozy life he wished he had. A life he wished he had with you.
Instead, he was left by himself, with you as his friendly neighbor. Who he caught himself thinking about too much.
The moment your door opened, he was hit with those smells from before. It was overwhelming, almost.
He stepped a foot inside, and it felt like he was embraced by you. Everything here smelt like everything that made him think of you. Plus, so much more.
He was guided to the couch, a gentle smile on his face. He wished you had invited him over more. Your place actually felt like a home, not just a roof and four walls.
"How's work been?" Your question brought him from his thoughts. Blinking fast under his glasses as he tried to blow away the clouds of you.
"Well, it's work. It's been pretty busy. Lots of paperwork, lately." He told you, and you nodded. You were standing in the kitchen now. He could hear the clanking of cups and the sound of your faucet starting.
"That's no fun," he heard the playful pout in your voice, and it made his stomach do flops. "You want some coffee while we wait? Or water," you offered, and he nodded. "I'll take what you're having," you both knew the answer to that.
He listened for a moment longer before he asked his own question. "Why don't you invite me over more? I know I have a coffee pot, but before you knew I had one. You'd bring a cup of your own over for me. How come?" He prodded, tilting his head as he faced almost opposite of you.
You pondered. He's always asking such forward questions. Honestly, you hadn't put too much thought into it until now.
You tapped your fingers on the counter. The coffee machine gurgling to life as the water heated inside it. "I guess I was just embarrassed," you blurted, cringing a little at your answer.
He let out a chuckle. A little puff of air following after. "Embarrassed? Over what? Your coffee addiction?" He teased, and you rolled your eyes. Walking over to the couch as you waited for the machine to work.
You sat beside him, your thigh brushing against his for just a second. You were quick to pull yourself to the side. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. "Sorry," you murmured, "don't be," he responded quickly. "Now tell me, why would you be embarrassed?" He asked, his voice softer than before now that you were up close.
You thought. "I guess I just have never really had anyone over before. Like, as a kid, teenager, adult. I always went over to other peoples homes. Plus," you gestured around, "I know you can't see it, but im not the tidiest.. I'm a little disorganized and cluttered. I have too much shit for this tiny ass apartment." You quipped, a laugh leaving your throat as you looked around your place. You weren't dirty by any means.
"Your place is just lived in. I love it when you invite me over," his comment made you stare at him. Searching his face for any sort of an indication that he was joking. He looked genuine, though. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I feel more at home here than in my own apartment." He blurted, hoping he did not instantly regret his statement.
He heard how your heart seemed to stutter at his comment. Disbelief, maybe?
"Thank you," your voice was so quiet. A whisper just for him. A prayer of thanks.
A prayer he didn't really deserve.
"No, thank you. You show me more kindness than a lot of people. I look forward to interacting with you, and I thank you for teaching me more about myself," he rambled a little. His own heart was racing now. He couldn't stop, though. He felt like he could tell you everything and anything. You were the one person who could crack open this lawyer.
You blinked. Smiling softly at the others' words as you watched him fidget with his cane. "What every could I teach you?"
A lot. The answer was a lot. You taught him that it was okay that he was different. You taught him not to be so scared of change. Over the course of the year and a half, you've known one another. You showed Matt that he could be a good person.
He just shrugged, though. "I guess that I'm a likable guy," he leaned back into the couch. His smile grew a little more.
The coffee pot going off is what disrupted the conversation. You grabbed both of your beverages before heading back to the couch.
Once back and sat, Matt was quick to fill the silence again. "Did you call Foggy?" He asked, and you gasped. Your hand flew for your phone on the table. "Shit, no, I forgot. I'm so sorry. You probably want to be back home, " you rambled.
"I'm not bothered. I'd like to ask you something anyways, " he hummed. "Are you interrogating me?" You joked, and he laughed. "No. I'm not the cop."
Your finger hovered over Foggys contact. "What's the question, then?"
His tongue swiped over his lips. His hand was holding tight on his cane. The sound of his heart was almost deafening in his ears. Why did you make him so nervous?
"Do you wait for me to get home?" He almost blurted. That wasn't the question he wanted to ask you. It almost caught him off guard. But he was curious. Did you?
You were nervous now. Was he catching on?
You scuffed your feet against the carpet. Fidgeting to yourself on the couch. "Uhm, well," you did. "Kind of? Not really," you lied, trying to keep cool. He could hear your heart thump louder. "I'm just off work before you, and I can hear your cane, and I like talking with you," you spoke fast. Way faster than you normally did.
He chuckled. You were so cute. Yet, you were also so charming in other ways. "I like talking with you too."
It fell silent for a moment. Matthew's confidence grew at your response, though.
"I'd like if we spoke more often, actually. I always look forward to when you stop me in the hall," he admitted. "Really? I get worried that I annoy you." He shook his head at your response. "Of course not. I consider you an important person in my life," You felt your body heat up out of embarrassment. He'd never been so personable with you before.
He was straight, though. You needed to stop thinking you had a chance.
"Wow, is this how you talk to the ladies, too?" You tried so hard to laugh it off. Your face only felt hotter, though. The more you thought about how close he was to you on the couch. And how he Cologne lingered so tastefully in the air.
Matthew laughed a little as well, but it wasn't as enthusiastic as you hoped. "No, not at all," "Right, you're more seductive with ladies. Im sure I was joking," "I can be seductive with you, too. I just never assumed you'd be into me."
Saying his sin out loud was almost a weight lifted off his shoulder. Was it selfish to think how relieving it felt to tell you, in a way?
"What?" You squeaked. You were in disbelief. Matt Murdock wanted to seduce you? "Me?"
His chuckle filled the air once more. "I've thought about it once or twice," he told you, with that devilish grin on his face.
The coffee long forgotten in your hands. You just sat there staring at the lawyer on your couch. His body slowly shifted away from you. You needed to say something before you scared him off with your malfunctioned silence.
"I think about you, too," your words trailed off a bit. Your eyes lingered over his body. You thought about him a lot.
That was his green light. Matthew scooted a little closer to you. The gap between the both of you growing smaller. "What do you think about?" He asked. He was so intrigued. He wanted to know. Was it sexual? Romantic? Soft and innocent scenarios? All of the above?
Your 'uh's and 'uhm's only made his grin grow. He'd never made you so flustered. "I think about you all the time. Last week, when I invited you over and you wore that honey scented body mist or whatever it was," his voice lowered a bit, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. You left my apartment, and it was like you were still there. I wanted to pull you in and never let you leave," you shuddered a little. His body was so close to yours now. His breath fanning across your face.
His hand reached out to brush your shoulder, and you melted. Your own hands finally reach out themselves. One hand on his bicep, which you gave a light squeeze. Your other hand resting on your own thigh to stabilize yourself. "Yeah, well, I think you should kiss me," you nearly whispered.
Matt's head spun with lust and admiration. He couldn't believe this was happening. He would never say no to such a tempting invitation, too.
His lips were on yours like fire. Mouth smashed against yours in a hungry kiss. You were quick to put your coffee on the table. Nearly missing the surface as he pulled you on top of himself. God, he'd wanted this for too long.
Your bodies were mashed together. Hands pawing at one another's forms. Gliding and rubbing in attempts to feel every inch of each other.
He pulled off you with heavy breaths. That damn smile on his face. His hair was disheveled, and honestly. You liked it compared to his normal, clean look. He was quick to pull you back in for another kiss. Though this one was cut short by the ringing of your phone.
You pulled back. Matt let out a grunt of disapproval as you reached for it. It had wound up on the floor.
"Who is it?" He asked, and you chuckled. Reaching down to swipe answer, "Hey, Foggy," "Hey, have you heard from Matt?" He asked, you could hear typing in the background. He must still be at the office.
You stared down at the man underneath you. A playful smile on your own lips, now. "Yeah, he's right here. You need to talk to him?" "Yes, please. His phone went to voice mail. I figured you'd go check on him, not that he'd be with you," the man admitted. You only gave a quick "yeah, he forgot his key," before you handed the phone to Matt.
Matt answered his friend. His hand rested on your thigh as he spoke. "Yeah, im kind of busy right now," he finally blurted. "Matt, I'm busy too," you could hear his friend pester and the man gave in. Letting Foggy talk his ear off on the current case they were working on.
You leaned your hips back to adjust your body. You figured you'd get off the man and let him talk. His tight grip on your thigh stopped you, though. Your hips rocking back and his hips thrusted up. His eyebrows knit together as his lips pursed.
An idea flashed across your mind as you rocked your hips again. Making a purpose to grind your ass into his crotch. "Fuck, I mean. Foggy, can I call you back?" And before his friend could answer. He was hanging up the phone.
You grinned. His head fell back on the arm of the couch, and both his hands were on you, now. "Why would you do that?" He snipped a little. His hips jolted as you rocked again. "I was bored, I guess."
It wasn't long before he had you in the bedroom, somehow. Clothes strewn along the floor like he lived there, too.
You couldn't stop looking at his body. Even in the dark, you could make out scars along his arms and back. What the hell kind of lawyer was he? He didn't give you too much time to think about it, though.
His finger inside you made your body tense. Your back arching with a small moan. His lips were on your neck. Mouthing and biting at the flesh. He curled his finger inside you before adding a second. He couldn't help but laugh a little at how much you squirmed.
"How're you so antsy already? We haven't even started yet." His voice was gravely. His fingers worked you open like he'd done this before. You wondered if he had? Maybe you judged his character completely wrong.
It wasn't long before he had three fingers in you. Little laughs, leaving his mouth with each moan you let out. "God, you're so cute like this. Are you ready?" He asked, and you let out a breathy, yes. Of course you were.
"Tell me what you think about me doing, then." He still wanted to know.
His cock sitting on your thigh made your head spin. This wasnt fair. "I cant," you whined, and he chuckled. Leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Come on, I've thought about you sucking my dick. Inviting you to my office and having you hide under my desk." His hand brushed over your dick. Your back arching off the bad with a groan.
"I think about you fucking me over your desk sometimes," you humored him, your head falling back as he pushed his tip inside of you. "Fuck, what else?" Your legs searched for a comfortable position.
"I uhm, oh fuck" you were cut off by him stroking you. "I think about you making me suck you," he slid furth in. "God, I wanna suck you off, think about it a lot," you whimpered. A yelp leaving your throat as he slammed up into you. His hand now had a grip on your jaw. "Maybe tomorrow." He sighed before he started moving.
Matt was quick with his movements. Once he knew you were comfortable, he was fucking you like a rabid animal. He was a grunting, panting, sweaty mess. And all you could do was call out his name like he was all you needed.
His hands were exploring every inch of you, too. Your chest, your thighs, your ass. He needed to know what every inch of you felt like.
Your body felt like it was on fire. Every snap of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Matt" and profanities were the only thing you could call out while you scratched at his arms and back. Your own hips started to move as you reached a high you'd never felt before.
One of the hottest guys in Hells Kitchen was fucking you stupid.
"Mm, gonna make you mine," he growled, his teeth biting down on your should as he tried to bury himself further inside you. It felt like he was splitting you open, but in the best way possible.
"Mm, yours," was all you could get out between his thrusts and your moans. It was enough for Matthew to understand, though. His grip tightened on your hips as his thrusts grew sloppy. One of his hands snaked down to rub between your legs.
It wasn't long before you came. A loud shout, leaving your throat as your hips raised off the bed. He buried himself deep inside you, too. His body shook as he came down from his own climax. Bodies convulsing and clinging to one another like you needed each other. In that moment, it felt like you did.
Your brain was buzzing. His body was heavy on top of you before he rolled off of you onto his side. His arms still draped around you. "That was a lot better than my imagination," he huffed, and you let out a soft giggle. "Yeah, it was better than mine, too." He kissed your temple. "I should have had you grab a towel or something," he muttered. Before climbing off the bed and searching for his shirt that he knew, he threw off beside the bed.
"I can get a new shirt." He could hear your hesitation when he offered it to you. "Plus, I think you like looking at me without one," he grinned. Catching the pants, you tossed into his chest while taking the shirt out of his hands. "Don't get too cocky," he snickered. Shimying the clothing back on. "Me? Cocky? Honey, I'm a lawyer. I dont have an ego," he smirked, that boyish grin on his face. You knew that was a lie, and so did he. "I'm just confident."
pairings: matt murdock x fem!reader series synopsis: “You broke up with me over a voicemail,” you snapped. “After I begged you to just be honest with me. After four years of half truths and disappearing acts. You don’t get to frame that as protection.”. mans best friend masterlist | part one warnings: mdni!!, frank saves the day, dead dove: do not eat, mention of attempted SA, mentions of murder, mentions of weapons (gun & knife), toxic relationship, reader gets her lick back, petty!reader, dark!matt murdock, possessive!matt, jealous!matt, smut (unprotected piv, momentarily dom!reader, dom!matt, masturbation fem, heavy choking kink, cumplay, pull out method, matt is kinda mean, squirting, matt has a filthy mouth lowkey.), reader uses a guy to make matt jealous. lmk if i’m missing anything!! total word count: 11k (not proofread) mia’s love note: ooooooo, part two!!! reader definitely gets her revenge on matt. she’s kinda bad ass. also frank mention bc he’s bae. i hope you guys love it sooooo much!!
“Hi uh, I hope you’re doing well. I think it’s time we took a break. ya know? So I can grow emotionally.”
The voicemail ended.
There was no follow up. No apology waiting behind it. No shaky breath, no hesitation. Just silence.
You let your phone drop from your ear as you stood outside the bar in shock.
The screen went dark in your hand and for a second you stared at it like it might light back up on its own, like Matt might suddenly realize what he had done and call back. Your chest felt hollow, like something had been scooped out and left open to the cold night air.
You wiped angrily at your tears as you stood. Your fingers pressed too hard against your cheeks, skin already raw. Somehow you weren’t surprised that Matt was so fucked in the head that he would be the one to break your heart after your multiple attempts to leave him. You had tried to do it right. You had tried to end things face to face. You had tried honesty. He had always made it complicated. Always made it about his pain, his guilt, his need to disappear and then be forgiven for it.
It didn’t make you any less angry as you wiped your face once more before turning back into the bar.
The warmth inside felt wrong against your skin. Too loud. Too bright. Laughter hit your ears like static.
Marci and Karen both perked up when they saw you.
“Oh my god what happened?” marci asked you watching you grab your purse and coat.
You didn’t sit back down. Your body felt wired, tight with something sharp and restless.
“Oh nothing, just matt breaking up with me over a voicemail.” you said bitterly as you stand up.
Karen frowned immediately, pushing her chair back.
“Wait are you serious?” karen asks you “I mean you were just saying how you guys were good.”
You scoffed, the sound rough in your throat.
“It’s all a lie, it has been for awhile.” you scoffed “i’m sorry but i need to leave.” you said hugging them both and making your exit from the bar.
Marci hugged you tightly, whispering something about calling if you needed anything. Karen held onto your arm for an extra second, her eyes searching your face like she wanted to argue, to insist you stay. You shook your head and pulled away gently.
The door closed behind you and the night swallowed the sound.
You walked alone down the dark side walks of hell’s kitchen, sniffles leaving you as you held your phone tightly.
The city felt different now. Not hostile. Not yet. Just watchful. Streetlights buzzed faintly overhead. Trash bags lined the curb like dark shapes crouched in the shadows. Somewhere far off, a train rattled through the tunnels beneath your feet.
You weren’t watching your surroundings, you never had to when you were out alone. Daredevil was always somewhere behind you keeping you safe. A presence you never saw but somehow trusted, like the city itself was keeping an eye on you.
You didn’t have that anymore.
The thought settled in slowly, sinking deeper with every step.
You couldn’t decide if you were happy or sad that you didn’t have to worry about that.
Your phone vibrated in your hand and you flinched before realizing it was nothing. You shoved it into your pocket, jaw tightening as you kept walking.
That was when you felt it.
Not heard. Felt.
Someone watching.
You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, glancing briefly at a darkened storefront window as you passed. Your reflection stared back at you and behind it, distorted in the glass, was a shape that did not belong to you.
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Unhurried.
“Hey.”
The voice was low. Too calm.
You didn’t respond.
“Hey, don’t ignore me.”
You kept walking, pulse beginning to thud in your ears.
You turned down a quieter street, one you had walked a hundred times before. The lights were farther apart here. The buildings older. The air colder.
The footsteps followed.
Closer now.
“You walk like you’re scared,” the man said. There was something wrong with the way he said it. Curious. Almost pleased. “That makes people notice.”
You stopped abruptly and turned around. “Leave me alone.”
He was closer than you expected. Too close. His face was half-lit by the streetlight, eyes dark and intent. He smiled slowly, like he was savoring the moment.
“Relax,” he said softly. “I just want to talk.”
“No you don’t.”
His smile widened. “Smart girl.”
Your stomach dropped.
He took a step forward. You stepped back.
“Don’t,” you warned.
He laughed quietly. “You think anyone would hear you out here?”
You hoped Matt would.
He moved fast.
His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. Not fumbling. Not accidental. Possessive.
You screamed and twisted, panic exploding through you. “Let go of me!”
He tightened his grip, eyes bright now. “There it is. That fear. I like that.”
You kicked at him, managing to break free as his fingers scraped painfully down your arm leaving red scratches. One heel fell off as you kicked him, you quickly shed the other.
You ran.
Your lungs burned almost immediately. Your feet slipped on the uneven pavement. You could hear him behind you now, not running, just walking fast enough to keep up.
“Don’t run,” he called. “I don’t want to chase you too far.”
Your vision blurred as tears streamed down your face. Streetlights smeared into long, glowing streaks as you ran, breath tearing from your lungs in sharp, panicked gasps. Your feet slapped against the pavement, each step echoing too loudly in the empty streets. You turned corner after corner without really thinking, your mind screaming for somewhere, anywhere, a place with a door you could lock or a face you could trust. Your thoughts felt fractured, bouncing wildly between fear and disbelief, between the sting in your wrist and the humiliation burning in your chest.
You were too far from your apartment, and even further from Matt’s.
The realization made your stomach twist. Even if you screamed, even if he somehow heard you, even if he was close enough to come running, it wouldn’t be fast enough. You knew that in your bones.
And then you remembered.
Frank.
The thought came with a jolt of both relief and dread. It was most definitely a bad idea to show up to his hide out like this, dragging danger right to his door. You knew exactly what you would be doing. You were signing the man behind you’s death certificate the second you decided to run there.
But the longer you ran, the more you realized the truth pressing down on you with every burning breath. Even if Matt heard your screaming, he wouldn’t make it in time.
Your chest felt tight as panic spiked higher.
The metal door came into view like a lifeline.
The familiar alley. Narrow. Dim. Smelling faintly of rust and damp concrete. The place you had sworn you would never show up to like this.
Still, you didn’t hesitate.
You slammed into the door hard enough to rattle the frame and started pounding on it with both fists, pain flaring through your palms as metal met bone again and again.
“Frank!” you screamed. “Frank, please open the door!”
Your voice cracked on his name. You looked behind you before slamming both your palms onto the door again, fear spiking as your eyes searched the mouth of the alley.
Your hands shook violently as you banged again and again. The metal felt cold and unyielding beneath your skin. Every second stretched, unbearable.
Footsteps slowed behind you.
Not rushed. Not frantic.
Leisurely.
You felt him before you heard him stop, the air shifting, your skin prickling as if your body recognized danger before your mind could catch up.
“Well,” the man said pleasantly, like he was amused. “This is new.”
You turned just enough to see him leaning against the wall, completely at ease, one shoulder resting casually against the brick. His eyes dragged over you slowly, openly, like he was taking his time. Watching you like prey cornered. Your back pressed into the metal door as much as you could, your shoulders curling inward instinctively, nowhere left to retreat.
“Frank!” you sobbed. “Please!”
Your voice broke fully now, desperation spilling out with every syllable.
He raised his voice, calling out past you, his tone easy, almost friendly. “Hey buddy. Sorry about this. She’s a little dramatic. We’re together.”
Your heart slammed violently against your ribs.
Your eyes widened as he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward you, slow and deliberate, savoring the way you shrank back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, the metal catching the dim alley light as he held it out toward you, not rushed, not shaking.
“Seems like you’re having a rough night,” he said softly. “Think I could help you baby. Make you feel better.”
Your breath hitched painfully in your throat. You shook your head violently, tears blinding you.
“Please don’t.”
He shrugged, unconcerned, like you had asked him for something trivial. “Why not.”
His hand came up suddenly, the blade cold as it pressed against your skin. You gasped as he sliced through the neckline of your shirt, fabric tearing easily beneath the knife. The air hit your exposed skin as your bra was revealed to him, humiliation crashing over you in a suffocating wave.
Before you could scream again, the door behind you flew open.
You fell backward into Frank’s chest, the sudden loss of resistance making your legs buckle. His arms came up instantly, gripping your arms, steadying you, anchoring you. It felt like hours since you started banging on his door. In reality it had only taken him about three minutes to answer.
Frank filled the doorway, broad and immovable, his body blocking the alley behind you. His eyes immediately locked onto you. One look at your face, your shaking body, the angry scratch marks on your arm, the bruise already forming on your wrist, and something in him went still. Completely still. Like a switch had been flipped somewhere deep inside him.
The man froze infront of you when his eyes landed on frank. The knife dipped slightly in his hand. It wasn’t a secret who the punisher was.
“What the fuck are you doing.” Frank asked the man angrily.
The words were low, controlled, far more dangerous than shouting.
The man smiled nervously, trying to recover. “Nothing serious. Just a lovers’ spat.”
Frank didn’t look at him.
“Get inside,” Frank said softly to you.
The gentleness of it almost broke you.
You rushed past him, nearly stumbling as you crossed the threshold, hands shaking as you pulled your torn shirt together. The door closed behind you with a heavy metallic thud that echoed through the space.
Outside, the sounds were brief.
There was a scream. High. Panicked.
Then nothing.
Inside, you’re curled in on yourself on the floor, knees pulled tight to your chest, tears falling freely now. Your hands held your shirt together as you sobbed, shoulders shaking, breath coming in uneven bursts as shock finally caught up with you.
Frank came back inside slowly. There was blood on his hands, on his shirt, flecked across his jaw.
He knelt in front of you immediately, lowering himself so he was eye level, his presence steady and solid.
“Hey, hey, what happened?” Frank said quietly. “Talk to me.”
Your body finally gave in. You covered your face with your hands and cried, shaking so hard your teeth chattered, everything you had been holding back spilling out all at once.
“It’s okay, did the right thing comin’ to me,” Frank said, though he was confused Matt wasn’t following you like he normally did. Still he didn’t push that as he rubbed your back in slow, grounding circles. “Lemme get you a new shirt.”
Frank stood up to grab you a new shirt. Your phone vibrated inside your pocket. The sound made you flinch. Lifting it up with trembling fingers, you saw two missed calls from Matt’s burner phone. A sob tore out of your throat as you flipped the phone over and dropped it beside you, unable to look at it anymore.
Frank came back with a new shirt and a cup of coffee for you.
“Here change into this,” he said handing you the shirt. “Got you some coffee, keep ya’ warm.” He turned around without being asked as you carefully shed your torn shirt, replacing them with the soft fabric of Frank’s shirt. It hung loose on you, warm and familiar.
“Thanks,” you said quietly as you sat on the corner of Frank’s bed.
Your eyes wandered over the room while you tried to steady your breathing. It was all one space. Concrete walls. Minimal furniture. The only places to sit were the bed or a scattered chair. A table nearby held the pieces of a gun, laid out neatly like Frank had been cleaning it before you knocked on his door.
Frank turned back around to hand you the coffee.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice hoarse, shame creeping in now that the danger had passed.
“Don’t be,” frank said. “No sweat off my back.” He sat on the chair, resuming cleaning the gun, though his attention never fully left you. “Red know where you are?” he asked you.
“No uh, we broke up,” you said, sniffling as you took a sip of the coffee. The warmth spread through your chest, grounding you. You needed that.
“Damn,” he said quietly. “M’ sorry.” He glanced at you again. “That why you came here?” he asked you. There was no judgment in his voice. You’d known Frank long enough to know he cared about you. He was your friend.
“I was scared,” you said, clearing your throat and pulling the sleeve of his shirt over your cold hands. “And I don’t exactly know where Matt hangs out when he’s the devil.” You shrugged weakly. “I know you told me not to come here—”
“See how worried I am about it?” frank said, stopping what he was doing and letting the gun rest back on the table.
The attempt at humor made your lips twitch despite everything.
“Is he dead?” you asked frank, already knowing the answer. You took the last sip of the coffee before standing up.
“Whaddya think?” he asked you.
You walked over to place the mug down with a nod of your head. “I should get going,” you said, reaching for your purse and clothes.
Frank let the taken apart gun snap into place before he flipped on the safety. “Take it,” he said. “Or else imma have to walk ya’ home.” He flipped it around for you to take.
“I don’t—” you started before holding your purse out for him. “Just put it in here please.”
Frank smiled faintly. “Scared of it?” he asked, showing you the safety. “Turn this off in case you need it.” He placed it carefully in your purse.
“If I end up dead and then you find my body with the gun still in my purse will you be mad?” you asked him.
“I’ll bring ya back myself,” he said, standing up to walk you to the door. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll swing by tomorrow. Make sure you got home safe.”
“Thank you Frank,” you said with a sad smile.
The door shut behind you with a dull echo that followed you down the steps and back out into the night.
The sound lingered longer than it should have, bouncing off concrete and brick, chasing you down the block like something trying to pull you back. You didn’t turn around. You kept walking, shoulders tight, breath shallow, forcing your legs to move even though every nerve in your body screamed to run.
Hell’s Kitchen felt colder than it had before. Not just the air, but the space itself. Quieter. Like the city itself was holding its breath now that the adrenaline had burned off and left you hollowed out in its wake. Frank’s long sleeve shirt kept you warm, the fabric soft against your skin, sleeves hanging past your wrists. It smelled like him. His soap. Metal. Gun powder. Safety. The scent wrapped around you, grounding and heavy, a reminder that someone had answered when you needed them to.
You adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder, fingers brushing against the weight inside it. The gun was heavier than you expected. It was proof. Proof of how close you had come to not making it home at all. Proof that someone had taken you seriously when you said you were scared.
Your footsteps were slower this time. Careful. Measured. Each step placed deliberately, like you were reminding yourself that you were still in control of your body.
You were alone again.
The realization sat heavy in your chest. Frank’s door felt impossibly far behind you now, like a boundary you had already crossed and could not step back over. The walk felt longer now. Every shadow seemed sharper, edges more defined. Every sound made your shoulders tense. A passing car. Laughter drifting from a nearby fire escape. The rattle of a loose trash can lid skittering across the pavement in the wind.
You kept your eyes forward, jaw clenched, refusing to let fear control your pace. You refused to look like prey.
You almost missed the sound.
Almost.
A heartbeat out of place. Too steady. Too close. Breath that didn’t belong to you, not ragged like yours, not panicked, just there.
Your arm was suddenly grabbed and you were yanked hard to the side, your back slamming against cold brick as the world narrowed into darkness and panic for a split second before you recognized the grip.
“Stop,” you snapped immediately, shoving at his chest. “Get off me.”
“Jesus,” Matt hissed, his hands coming up reflexively like he was trying to steady you and himself at the same time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t mean to scare me?” you said, voice sharp, heart pounding violently, the echo of the alley amplifying every word. “You don’t get to grab me like that. Not anymore.”
He froze at that.
The alley was narrow, barely lit by a flickering streetlight at the mouth of it. The light cut across his jaw and mouth, the rest of his face covered by his black mask. The brick pressed cold against your spine, seeping through your clothes. Matt stood too close, his jaw tight with something tangled between relief, fear, and anger that had nowhere to go.
“I heard you scream,” he said quietly. “I heard it blocks away.”
You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp enough to hurt your own throat. “Funny how that works.”
Matt’s brow furrowed beneath the mask. “What’s that supposed to mean.”
“It means where the hell were you?” you shot back. “Actually don’t answer that because it’s my fault for thinking you still cared.”
The words cut deep. You felt them land even before he reacted.
His jaw clenched. You heard his teeth grind together. He swallowed hard. “I was close. I came as fast as I could.”
“Not fast enough.”
The words landed hard between you, final and unforgiving.
Matt stepped closer, his voice lowering instinctively, his body angling toward yours like he was trying to shield you from threats that had already passed. “Are you hurt.”
You shook your head sharply. “Don’t.”
“Just… let me check,” he insisted, reaching out again, fingers hovering near your arm.
You slapped his hand away, shoving his chest. “I said don’t touch me.”
That stopped him completely.
His breathing shifted. Slower. More deliberate. He tilted his head slightly, listening now to everything. To your heart rate hammering against your ribs. To the uneven hitch in your breathing. To the faint tremor in your hands no matter how hard you tried to hide it. To the way your scent was wrong, layered with something else.
And then his expression changed.
“What happened,” he asked.
It wasn’t a question anymore. It was an accusation, sharp and immediate.
You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, fingers curling into the sleeves of Frank’s shirt like a shield. “You left me.”
“I didn’t leave you,” he said immediately. “I was trying to keep you safe.”
“You broke up with me over a voicemail,” you snapped. “After I begged you to just be honest with me. After four years of half truths and disappearing acts. You don’t get to frame that as protection.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.
Matt’s nostrils flared. His shoulders lifted with a sharp breath.
“And you didn’t go home,” he said slowly.
“No.”
“You went somewhere else.”
You didn’t answer.
His head tilted again. His face tightened, something dark and furious flickering behind his eyes as his senses put the pieces together long before you said a word.
“Frank,” he said.
Your stomach dropped.
“You smell like him.”
The words came out clipped. Controlled. Dangerous. Jealousy threaded through them whether he wanted it to or not.
Your lips pressed together. “So what.”
Matt laughed sharply, disbelief cracking through his composure, bitterness bleeding into the sound. “You ran to him.”
“I ran to someone who answered the door,” you shot back. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
“That was reckless,” he snapped. “You have no idea what kind of danger that puts you in.”
“You don’t get to lecture me about danger,” you said, stepping closer now, fury eclipsing fear entirely. “I had a knife at my throat tonight, Matt. You weren’t there so save me, Frank was. Once again you come up short.”
That wiped the anger off his face instantly.
“What,” he breathed.
“A man followed me. He grabbed me. He cut my shirt open,” you said, your voice shaking now despite yourself, the memory burning fresh and vivid. “And you know what I thought about in that moment.”
Matt’s hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening.
“I thought about how you weren’t there,” you said. “How you weren’t listening. How you didn’t choose me. How you left me.”
“I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely.
“That’s the problem,” you snapped. “You never know because you.”
His voice rose, frustration bleeding through, anger now tangled with guilt and something uglier. “I’m trying to protect you. To better for you.”
“Then just do what you do best.” you said. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
Matt stepped closer again, his voice lowering, urgency creeping back in. “Did he hurt you.”
“No,” you said. “Because Frank killed him.”
The alley went dead silent.
Matt’s breathing spiked. His jaw tightened so hard you thought his teeth might crack beneath the mask.
“He did what,” Matt said quietly.
“You heard me.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near him.”
Matt’s voice changed. It was deeper now, rougher. That was how you knew the Devil was here and Matt was gone.
“You shouldn’t have left me with no one,” you fired back. “You don’t get to decide who I run to when I’m scared because it sure as hell isn’t going to be you.”
“I could have protected you,” he said, voice breaking just enough to make it hurt, jealousy bleeding through now unchecked.
“But you didn’t,” you said. “Frank did.”
That was the thing that finally snapped something in him.
“You smell like him,” Matt said. “And his gun powder.”
The words were sharp, possessive, unfair. He was jealous and you both knew it. He didn’t have any right to be jealous anymore.
Your laugh was sharp. “Congratulations. You still have great senses.”
His head tilted toward your purse. His hand reached out and grabbed it suddenly.
“Matt!” you gasped as he grabbed it.
“A gun?” Matt said. “He gave you a gun.”
You leaned in close enough that your lips almost touched. Your hands came out to rest on his abs you could feel through his black shirt. Matt’s breath shuttered, jealousy flaring hotter at the familiarity.
“If you don’t leave me alone Matthew, I’m going to turn around and walk back to Franks. Then i’m going to fuck him. Let him touch me all the ways you used to. Then i’ll come knock on your door so you can smell just how much of him is all over me.” you threatened. “I will make your life even more miserable than it is.”
You shoved him harshly, stepping around him, your shoulder clipping his as you passed.
“Don’t follow me,” you warned.
Matt stood frozen as you walked past him, your footsteps echoing out of the alley and back into the street, every step deliberate, every breath a declaration.
He stayed there long after you were gone, surrounded by the scent of Frank Castle, jealousy burning hot and useless in his chest, and the sound of a city that did not forgive hesitation.
Once you got home that night you shed your pants off before crawling into your bed.
You barely bothered turning on the light. Your apartment felt too big and too quiet, every sound amplified by the absence of another body. The sheets were cold when you slid under them, the fabric bunching awkwardly around your legs as you curled onto your side. You stared at the wall, eyes burning, mind refusing to slow.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the voicemail.
The tone of his voice. The careful distance in his words. The way he had made it sound like a mature decision instead of what it really was. Cowardice. Avoidance. Another disappearing act dressed up as self improvement.
Seeing Matt didn’t help you at all. It didn’t bring closure. It didn’t make you feel chosen. It made you angry in a way that sat heavy and sharp in your chest. You were sure you hated him. You wanted to hate him. You pressed your face into the pillow and cried anyway, quiet at first, then harder, sobs shaking your shoulders until your throat ached.
You laid in bed crying to yourself for hours.
Hours turned into days. Days where you woke up exhausted and went to sleep the same way. Franks shirt turned into one of matt’s, the fabric softer from years of washing, familiar in a way that hurt. Your spot in bed changed from one side to the other without you really realizing when it happened. Muscle memory betraying you. Rolling over in the night and reaching for nothing.
You gave frank his shirt and gun back when he came by to make sure you were alive.
He didn’t say much. Neither did you. He stood in your doorway, eyes scanning you like he was checking for bruises you might have missed. You handed him his things without ceremony. He nodded once, like that was all he needed to see.
That was the most human interaction you’d had all week.
Your phone kept lighting up with texts from Marci asking you to go out with her and Foggy. Each buzz felt louder than the last. Each notification a reminder that life was still moving forward whether you felt ready or not.
That only made you cry harder. You were officially a third wheel now, an extra seat at a table that used to feel like home.
What hurt you the most was that you were certain that there was nobody’s son left for you to believe in. No man you could put your faith in without flinching. No promise that didn’t feel hollow. The realization sat deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating.
So despite that, you decided that since Karen was also technically a third wheel, you put on that dress you loved. The one that made you feel like yourself again. You did your hair just right, careful and deliberate. You added your favorite perfume, the one that always made people lean in closer, and you were golden.
You met Marci and Foggy at Josie’s. You and Karen walked together, shoulders brushing as you made your way inside. She always made you laugh, even despite your broken heart. Even when you felt like you might crack open at any second.
You didn’t plan on getting as tipsy as you were, but when you started beating Foggy at pool and Marci suggested you make it a drinking game you couldn’t resist. Every win came with a cheer. Every loss came with laughter. The alcohol warmed your chest, loosened the tight knot that had been sitting there for days.
Tonight you were nobody’s girl. Nobody was in your head. In the end this was exactly what you needed. What you wanted.
You walked up to the bar, a lazy smile on your face as you asked Josie for another beer. The wood was sticky beneath your fingers. The lights were low. The music loud enough to blur the edges of everything.
A presence caught your attention.
You weren’t sure who he was other than the fact that he was handsome and tall, leaning casually against the bar like he belonged there. Mixed in with your fresh heartbreak, you found yourself loving the attention. The way his eyes lingered. The way he smiled like he already knew you.
“Hello there,” the guy said, making you smile.
“Hi.” you said, breaking out the eyes you only ever used for matt. The ones that lingered just a second longer. The ones that invited.
“what’s a pretty girl like you doing here?” he said, dropping a twenty on the counter when Josie brought back your beer.
The action shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. It was stupid. It was simple. Again, you were tipsy. Maybe that was what made you laugh and lean closer. Maybe that was what made you introduce yourself without thinking.
Maybe that was what made you bring Josh back over to the pool table with a large grin on your face.
Foggy’s eyes widened as he watched you come over. He turned to Marci and Karen, mumbling a “this isn’t going to be good.”
Matt straightened out his tie. He had just arrived.
You weren’t sure who at the bar he noticed first. The sound of your laugh. The unfamiliar heartbeat beside you. The way your perfume hit him like a punch to the chest. He didn’t see why the two of you couldn’t be friends. That was the lie he told himself as he stepped closer.
“Hey guys!” you said cheerfully. “This is Josh, we’ve known each other for about” you thought before letting out a giggle “five minutes. We’re planning a June wedding.” you gushed.
Josh laughed, looking down at you. “You’re cute.”
Matt’s beer dropped to the table harshly. The sound cut through the noise. Foggy gulped before saying, “By the way Matt is here.”
They waited for your reaction.
You just shrugged with a sneaky smile. “Hi Matt,” you purred. “Did you meet josh?”
Matt cleared his throat, turning to face you both. “No i haven’t.”
“Oh well! Matthew this is Josh.” you said, dragging Josh over to Matt. “Josh this is Matthew, great lawyer. Terrible boyfriend.” you laughed. “I mean horrible. That boy is corrupt. like the WORST!! He sure fucked me up, and it’s not even because he’s blind which is like so mind boggling.”
Karen stifled a laugh. Josh caught it and laughed nervously. “Matt, would you like to come to our June wedding?” he asked.
“Oh i’m in love.” you gushed.
That was how the whole night went.
You hung off of Josh all night. Your arm looped through his. Your hand resting casually on his thigh when you laughed too hard. Every touch deliberate. Every smile calculated just enough to sting.
Matt was miserable.
His hand tightened around his beer until the glass creaked faintly in protest. His jaw was set, teeth clenched so hard his temples ached. Every time Josh made a joke that sent you into another fit of laughter, Matt’s breathing went uneven. He could hear it all. Your laugh. Josh’s heartbeat spiking every time you leaned closer. The way your voice softened when you spoke to him.
You completely abandoned the game of pool. Foggy continued to play with Karen and Marci, both of them pretending very hard not to watch the slow emotional carnage unfolding at the table behind them.
You decided to sit across from Matt.
Josh sat on your right.
Close enough that his leg pressed into yours. Close enough that Matt could smell him on you already. Soap. Cheap cologne. The faint bite of beer. It made Matt’s stomach twist.
You kept asking Josh questions to get to know him.
“So what do you do?” you asked, tilting your head, chin resting in your palm.
Josh smiled. “Construction. Mostly residential.”
“Oh wow,” you said. “That’s hot. You build things.”
Matt scoffed quietly, lifting his beer again.
“Where are you from?” you asked next.
“Queens,” Josh said. “Born and raised.”
“You ever want to leave?” you asked.
Josh shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on who I’m with.”
You smiled at that, slow and deliberate.
Matt’s fingers twitched against the table.
“What about you?” Josh asked. “What do you do when you’re not beating your friends at pool?”
You laughed. “I have a job. I read too much. I make bad decisions.”
Josh grinned. “Those are usually the best kind.”
Matt couldn’t help it. “You don’t know her,” he said sharply.
You turned your head slowly toward him. “You don’t either,” you replied.
Josh shifted uncomfortably but stayed put.
You kept going.
“You have siblings?” you asked Josh.
“Yeah,” he said. “Older sister. Protective as hell.”
You smiled. “That tracks.”
“What about you?” Josh asked.
You shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Matt laughed bitterly. “That’s one way to put it.”
You leaned back in your chair, eyes never leaving Josh. “You believe in fate?” you asked.
“Sometimes,” Josh said. “Depends on the night.”
“And love?” you asked.
Matt’s grip tightened.
Josh smiled softly. “I think love is choosing someone. Every day.”
The words hit harder than you expected.
Matt swallowed hard.
You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said. “That sounds right.”
Matt sat there listening to every word, every laugh, every brush of skin, jealousy rotting in his chest. He wanted to scream. He wanted to drag you away. He wanted to beg.
Instead, he sat there miserable, watching you give someone else the attention he had taken for granted for four years.
And you let him.
Josh glanced down at your empty bottle and smiled, easy and attentive in a way that felt foreign and intoxicating all at once.
“I’m gonna grab you another drink,” he said, already stepping away from the table. “Same thing?”
You nodded, flashing him a grin. “You’re a gem.”
He laughed and disappeared toward the bar, leaving his chair still warm beside you.
The second he was out of earshot, the air shifted.
Matt had been sitting rigidly still, shoulders locked, fingers wrapped too tightly around his beer. The second Josh’s footsteps faded, Matt turned his head fully toward you. His jaw flexed once. Twice.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
His voice was deceptively calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant he was barely holding himself together.
You didn’t look at him right away. You leaned back in your chair instead, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric of your dress ride up just enough to make a point.
“Loads of fun,” you said lightly. Then you tilted your head, eyes finally sliding over to him with a lazy smile. “I wonder if he’s as good in bed as Frank.”
The words hit him like a punch.
Matt sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. His heartbeat spiked instantly. You could practically feel it from across the table.
“That’s not funny,” he said tightly. He was so upset he didn’t bother listening to your heart.
You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was joking?”
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he snapped.
“Wow,” you said, feigning surprise. “Four years together and you finally catch on.”
His hand slammed down on the table hard enough to make the bottles rattle. Foggy glanced over briefly, then very pointedly looked away.
“Don’t say his name like that,” Matt said. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
You leaned closer, lowering your voice just enough to make it intimate. Dangerous.
“Like what,” you asked sweetly. “Like someone who showed up when I needed him? Like someone who didn’t leave me alone in the dark?”
Matt’s jaw clenched so hard you could hear his teeth grind.
“You’re trying to hurt me,” he said.
You smiled wider. “Is it working?”
His head tilted slightly, listening now, picking up every shift in your breathing, every smug little hitch of satisfaction you weren’t even trying to hide.
“This isn’t you,” he said. “You’re not like this.”
You laughed quietly. “No. I just finally stopped being good for you.”
Matt leaned closer, voice dropping. “You don’t mean what you’re saying.”
“Oh I absolutely do,” you said. “Frank touches me and I don’t feel like I’m waiting around to be chosen.”
His breath went uneven.
“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” he warned.
You leaned in too, close enough that he could feel the heat of your body, your perfume overwhelming every other scent in the room.
“I thought I told you I was going to make your life a living hell?” you said softly.
That did it.
Something in Matt cracked. You heard it in the way his breathing stuttered, the way his fingers curled into fists so tight his knuckles popped.
Josh came back just then, blissfully unaware, carrying two beers.
“Sorry,” he said, setting one in front of you. “Crowded.”
You looked up at him like he was the only person in the room.
“It’s okay,” you said warmly. “Worth the wait.”
Matt sat frozen, every sense screaming as Josh leaned closer to you. He could smell the beer on his breath. The way your heart rate changed when Josh stood too close. The way your body angled toward him without thinking.
You stood suddenly, pushing your chair back.
Josh blinked. “Everything okay?”
You leaned in close, standing on your toes just enough to bring your mouth to his ear.
Matt heard everything.
Every breath. Every whisper. Every intention.
“Follow me,” you murmured softly into Josh’s ear.
Josh’s breath hitched audibly. His heartbeat spiked. “Uh,” he said, swallowing. “Yeah. Okay.”
You straightened, grabbed his hand, and started pulling him through the crowd without looking back.
Matt stayed seated.
He listened to your footsteps fade. Listened to Josh’s stumble as he followed you. Listened to the bathroom door open somewhere down the hall.
And then close.
The sound echoed in Matt’s chest like a gunshot.
He sat there, jealous, furious, miserable, surrounded by noise and laughter and the undeniable truth that you were no longer his to lose.
The bathroom door shut with a soft but unmistakable click.
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Matt heard it anyway.
The noise of the bar swallowed most things. Music. Laughter. Glass clinking. But his world narrowed the second that door closed, his focus locking onto the hallway like a vice. He tilted his head without realizing he was doing it, every sense stretching, sharpening, honing in.
At first there was only muffled movement. Shoes shifting. Fabric brushing against tile.
Then your laugh.
Soft. Breathless. Close.
Matt’s throat went dry.
Josh said something too quiet for the words to register, but Matt heard the smile in his voice. Heard the way his heartbeat sped up, erratic and eager. Heard the scrape of his back against the bathroom counter.
Then he heard you kiss him.
Not gentle. Not hesitant.
Intentional.
The sound was faint, swallowed by the walls, but Matt caught every second of it. The press of mouths. The sharp inhale Josh took like he hadn’t expected you to do that. The way your breathing changed, warmer, lower, familiar in a way that made Matt’s chest ache.
Someone whistled at the pool table. Someone laughed too loud.
Matt didn’t hear any of it.
He heard Josh’s hand slide to your waist. Heard the fabric of your dress shift. Heard you make a quiet sound against Josh’s mouth that you used to make against his.
Something shattered.
The bottle in Matt’s hand cracked with a sharp pop, glass biting into his palm as it gave way under the pressure of his grip. Beer spilled across the table, soaking his sleeve, dripping onto the floor.
Foggy startled. “Jesus Christ, Matt.”
Blood welled instantly, sliding between Matt’s fingers. He didn’t react. He didn’t feel it. His eyes were unfocused beneath the mask, head angled sharply toward the hallway.
In the bathroom, you laughed again.
Josh kissed you harder this time. Less tentative. More confident. Matt heard the sound of it, wet and desperate, heard Josh’s heart racing like he had already won something.
Matt stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Foggy was on his feet immediately, grabbing Matt’s arm. “Hey. Hey. Stop.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” Matt said.
His voice was not loud. It didn’t shake. It was flat and absolute.
“That’s not happening,” Foggy said, tightening his grip. “You need to breathe.”
Matt yanked his arm free. “He’s touching her.”
Foggy stepped directly into his path. “She’s single.”
That word hit harder than anything else tonight.
Matt shook his head violently. “He’s taking advantage of her.”
“No,” Foggy said firmly. “She’s taking advantage of you.”
Matt’s jaw clenched. He could still hear it. Still hear your mouth on Josh’s. Still hear the way your breathing sped up when Josh pressed closer. Still smell you, even from across the room. Perfume. Beer. And underneath it all, the ghost of Frank Castle and the familiar ache of what used to be his.
In the bathroom, Josh laughed quietly. “Wow,” he said, breathless. “You don’t waste time.”
“Neither do you,” you murmured back.
Matt took a step toward the hallway.
Foggy blocked him again. “Matt. If you walk in there, you don’t come back from that.”
“She’s doing this to hurt me,” Matt snapped.
Foggy didn’t argue. “Yeah. And it’s working.”
Matt’s hands shook now, blood dripping steadily from his palm. His breathing was uneven, rage and jealousy clawing up his spine, the Devil screaming to be let loose.
Inside the bathroom, you pressed Josh back against the wall.
He hated that he knew exactly how your lips felt. Exactly how your hands moved when you wanted to make a point. Exactly how calculated you were being right now.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Josh muttered.
You smiled against his mouth. “You have no idea.”
Outside, Matt stood trembling, miserable and furious, held back only by the one truth Foggy had forced him to face.
You weren’t his anymore.
And you were making sure he knew it.
The bathroom door opened.
The sound cut through the bar sharper than the music, sharper than laughter, sharper than the clack of pool balls hitting felt. You stepped out first, cheeks flushed, hair slightly undone in a way that looked effortless but absolutely was not. Josh followed close behind you, his hand still hovering near your waist like he wasn’t sure where he was allowed to put it anymore.
Matt heard you before he saw you.
Your breathing was different. Slower now. Satisfied. Josh’s heart was still racing, pounding loud and uneven like he had just been handed something he didn’t fully understand yet.
Conversation at the table stuttered when you came back into view.
Foggy went still. Karen’s eyes widened just a fraction. Marci sucked in a quiet breath.
Matt turned fully toward you.
You didn’t look at him right away.
You leaned into Josh instead, fingers curling loosely around the front of his shirt as you smiled up at him like the two of you shared a private joke.
Josh laughed under his breath, still a little dazed. “You okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
Then you raised your voice just enough for the table to hear.
“Hey guys,” you said brightly. “Josh and I are gonna head out.”
The words landed like a match dropped into gasoline.
Matt’s head snapped toward you, disbelief and fury crashing together in his chest. His heartbeat spiked violently, blood still dripping from his palm, his senses screaming at him to move, to stop this, to do something.
Foggy swore under his breath.
Karen’s mouth opened, then closed again.
Josh glanced around, suddenly aware of the tension, the way the air felt thick and wrong. “Uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I mean. If you’re sure.”
You smiled at him, soft and reassuring, like you were smoothing things over for his benefit. “I’m sure.”
Matt pushed himself up from the table.
“Wait,” he said.
The word tore out of him before he could stop it.
You finally looked at him then.
Your expression was calm. Too calm. Your eyes were bright, sharp, unreadable.
“What,” you asked lightly.
Matt swallowed hard. His jaw worked like he was trying to find words that didn’t exist. He could smell Josh all over you now. Hear the echo of your heartbeat still settling back into something steady. Feel the ghost of your presence slipping further and further out of reach.
“You’re just leaving,” he said.
You tilted your head. “Yup.”
“With him.”
You glanced at Josh, then back at Matt. “That was the plan.”
Josh shifted awkwardly. “Look, man, if this is weird—”
“It’s not,” you said immediately, squeezing Josh’s hand. “We’re good.”
Matt laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You don’t even know him.”
You stepped closer to Matt, just enough to make the point sting.
“And you don’t know me anymore,” you said quietly.
Josh’s heartbeat jumped again. “So,” he said, forcing a grin. “I’ll grab my jacket.”
He started toward the door.
You watched him go.
The second he was out of sight, you exhaled slowly.
Then you turned back to the table.
“I’ll see you guys later,” you said casually. “Text me.”
Marci stared at you like she was trying to read between the lines. Karen searched your face, concern flickering there, but you just smiled at her and squeezed her arm.
Matt stepped closer again, voice low and tight. “You don’t have to do this.”
You looked at him, really looked at him, and something like tired amusement crossed your face.
“I already did,” you said.
Josh reappeared by the door, jacket on, keys in hand. “Ready?”
You nodded, walking past Matt without another word.
He turned, following you with his eyes, every sense locked on the way your body moved, the sound of your steps, the absence he could already feel setting in.
Outside, the night air hit your face cool and grounding.
Josh stepped onto the sidewalk with you. “So,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My place is—”
You stopped walking.
He stopped too, blinking. “Everything okay?”
You smiled at him, genuine this time, but final. “Yeah. I’m just not going home with you.”
“Oh,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” you said honestly. “You were great.”
He laughed softly. “Then why—”
“Because tonight wasn’t about that,” you said. “And I don’t actually want to take you home.”
Josh studied your face for a second, then nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
“I had fun,” you added.
“Me too,” he said. “No regrets.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Quick. Clean. A full stop.
“Get home safe,” you told him.
“You too,” he replied.
He walked off in the opposite direction without argument.
You stood there alone for a moment, the city humming around you, heart steady, head clear.
Back inside the bar, Matt stood frozen, every sense screaming with the realization that hurt him most.
You hadn’t chosen Josh.
But you hadn’t chosen him either.
And that was somehow worse.
You got home alone.
The lock clicked behind you and the sound felt louder than it should have, final in a way that made your chest tighten for just a second before you forced yourself to breathe through it. Your apartment smelled like clean laundry and faint perfume, the quiet wrapping around you like a blanket you weren’t sure you deserved yet.
You kicked your shoes off by the door and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, letting the night catch up with you.
Josh was gone. The bar was gone. Matt’s eyes burning into your back as you walked away was gone too.
You dropped your purse onto the counter, the weight inside it shifting softly. You didn’t open it. You didn’t need to look at it to know it was there.
You moved through the apartment slowly, deliberately, peeling your dress off like it was another layer of the night you didn’t want clinging to you anymore. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, leaving it on the floor where it landed.
The bathroom light clicked on.
You turned the faucet, watching steam begin to rise as the tub filled. The sound was soothing, steady, something you could focus on. You stripped the rest of your clothes off and stepped into the bath once it was full, lowering yourself carefully until the water lapped at your shoulders.
The heat seeped into your skin, loosening muscles you hadn’t realized were clenched. You let your head fall back against the porcelain, eyes closing as you exhaled slowly.
You sank lower into the water, letting it cover your chest, your throat, everything but your face.
You hated that you still felt him.
You scrubbed at your skin like you could wash the memory off. Soap slick between your fingers. The smell of lavender filling the air. You stayed there until the water cooled, until your skin wrinkled, until your thoughts finally slowed.
That was when you heard it.
A knock.
Sharp. Heavy. Angry.
You froze.
Another knock followed immediately, harder this time, rattling the doorframe.
Your heart jumped into your throat.
You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was.
“Open the fucking door.”
Matt’s voice carried through the apartment, tight and furious, the sound of someone barely holding themselves together.
You swallowed hard, sitting up in the tub, water sloshing softly around you.
“Go home,” you called back, your voice steady even though your pulse wasn’t.
“I’m not leaving,” he snapped. “We’re not done.”
You stood slowly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you stepped out of the tub. Water dripped onto the tile, each drop loud in the silence.
“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, moving toward the door.
Another knock. Louder. His knuckles hit the wood hard enough to make you flinch.
“I heard everything,” he said. “Every second.”
You stopped a few feet from the door, your hand hovering uselessly at your side.
“That makes me happy,” you said quietly.
His breath was heavy on the other side. You could hear it through the door. The way he paced. The way his heartbeat refused to slow.
“You did that to hurt me,” he said.
“Yes,” you replied honestly.
Silence stretched between you.
Then, softer, rougher, “You don’t get to pretend you don’t feel this.”
You leaned your forehead against the door, eyes closing.
“You don’t get to show up at my place angry after breaking my heart over a voicemail,” you said. “You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to demand anything from me.”
His voice dropped, dangerous now. “Open the door.”
You exhaled slowly.
“I’m not dressed,” you said.
“I don’t give a shit,” he replied immediately.
Your fingers brushed the doorknob.
You didn’t turn it.
Not yet.
Matt leaned closer on the other side, his voice right against the wood now.
“If you don’t open it,” he said, “I swear to God I’m going to lose it.”
Your hand rested on the lock, your pulse loud in your ears, steam still clinging to your skin, anger and want and history tangled so tight you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
You stared at the door.
The door creaked open Matt stood there, silhouette sharp against the hallway light, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear the grind of his teeth. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders, rumpled from whatever hellish night he'd clawed through, and those unseeing eyes, dark, furious, tilted toward you as if he could peel back your skin with a glance. The scent of rain and city grime hit you first, then the undercurrent of his cologne, familiar enough to twist your gut.
“You think you can just make out with another guy knowing I can hear you?” His voice was a low snarl, stepping inside without invitation, the door clicking shut behind him. He reached out, fingers brushing your arm wrapped in the damp towel, but you slapped his hand away, the crack echoing.
“Don't,” you hissed, backing up. Water dripped from your hair, soaking the towel's edge, your skin prickling under his proximity. Anger boiled in your veins, him showing up like this, out of anger and jealousy. But beneath it, that treacherous heat pooled low, the history between you a live wire. “You broke my heart. Get out.”
He didn't move, head tilting as he listened, the hitch in your breath, the subtle shift of your thighs pressing together. “Liar. I hear your pulse racing. You want this as bad as I do.” His lips curled into a smirk, but it didn't reach the storm in his expression.
You shoved him then, palms flat against his chest, guiding him back until his legs hit the couch and he dropped onto it with a grunt. Surprise flickered across his face, but you didn't give him time to recover. Straddling his lap, you pinned his wrists to the cushions, the towel loosening around your breasts as you leaned in close. “No. Tonight, you listen to me. You don't touch. You don't speak unless I say.” Your voice shook with the power you seized, even as your core throbbed at the hardness already stirring beneath you.
Matt's breath came sharper, his body tensing under yours, but he stayed still, sensing the command in your tone, the way your scent, lavender and arousal, filled his senses. “Fuck you,” he muttered, but there was an edge of restraint, his fingers flexing against the fabric.
You ignored him, grinding down once, just enough to feel his cock twitch through his pants, then pulled back. Your hand slipped under the towel, fingers finding your slick folds, already swollen from the adrenaline and unwanted want. A soft moan escaped you as you circled your clit, loud and deliberate, letting the wet sounds fill the room. “This is what you do to me,” you taunted, voice breathy, hips rolling in slow circles above him. “You show up, all pissed off, and I get soaked thinking about how much I hate you.”
His jaw ticked, nostrils flaring as he inhaled your arousal, the quiver in your thighs vibrating through to him. “Let me—”
“No.” You pinched your nipple with your free hand, arching your back, the towel slipping further to expose one breast. Your fingers plunged inside yourself now, two at once, thrusting with obscene squelches that made your cheeks burn even as you craved his reaction. Moans spilled from your lips, unrestrained, high and needy, your body undulating, breasts bouncing slightly as you fucked yourself harder. “God, it feels so good without you ruining it. I hate you, Matt. Hate how you make me this wet, hate that I still want to cum thinking of your stupid face.”
He growled low, hands straining against your hold, but you tightened your grip, riding the wave building inside you. You both knew he could break the hold if he wanted. Your thumb pressed your clit, fingers curling deep, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. Pleasure coiled tight, your cries growing louder, walls fluttering around your digits as you teetered on the brink. “Almost, fuck, I'm gonna come, and you can't do shit about it.” your voice reached that hitch pitch whine that Matt loved.
That's when he snapped. With a feral snarl, Matt wrenched his wrists free, his strength surging as he flipped you onto your back on the couch, the towel tearing away completely. Your hand was yanked from between your legs, slick fingers hovering as he loomed over you, chest heaving. “Enough of your games,” he rasped, voice dripping venom and hunger. His palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse thunder under his grip, stars dancing in your eyes. “You think you can tease me like that? Make yourself cum on my lap, then what? deny me? Pathetic.”
You gasped, legs spreading instinctively as he forced your thighs apart with his knee, his free hand grabbing you wrist and shoving your two fingers coated in your juices past your lips. “Suck them clean. Taste how desperate you are for me.” The intrusion gagged you slightly, salty tang flooding your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks, eyes watering. He thrust them deeper, mimicking a cock, before he pulled your fingers out and replaced them with his thumb pressing your tongue down. “That's it. You hate me? Prove it, bite. Cmon.”
But you didn't. You sucked harder, moaning around his fingers, submission flooding you as the fight drained away. He pulled it out with a wet pop, trailing saliva down your chin, then spat directly into your open mouth, the warm glob hitting your tongue. “Swallow. Every drop's mine.” You did, the act filthy and claiming, your pussy clenching emptily.
Matt's mouth crashed down next, not gentle, teeth nipping your lips, tongue invading roughly as he tasted the remnants of his spit and your essence. He didn't pull back to wipe, letting your slickness smear between you, marking the kiss nasty and raw. Breaking away, he trailed bites down your neck, sucking bruises into your collarbone while his hand tightened on your throat, choking off your air in pulses that made your head spin.
“Beg for it,” he demanded, shoving his pants down just enough to free his thick cock, already leaking pre-cum. He rubbed the head against your folds, coating himself in your wetness, but didn't enter, teasing now, payback for your torment.
“I hate you,” you whimpered, but your hips bucked up, chasing him. “I fucking hate you.”
He laughed darkly, choking you harder for a beat, then released just as you clawed at his arm. “Liar. You love being my little slut.” With that, he slammed inside, no warning, stretching you brutally around his girth. The burn made you cry out, walls gripping him like a vice as he set a punishing rhythm, deep, erratic thrusts that punched the air from your lungs.
The couch creaked under the force, his hips snapping against yours, balls slapping your ass with each plunge. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other returning to your throat, squeezing in time with his strokes, tighten on the withdraw, release on the drive in. “Feel that? That's me fucking the hate right out of you. Gonna fill this pussy until you can't walk, can't think of anyone else.”
Tears streamed down your face, pleasure and pain twisting as he ground deeper, hitting your cervix with brutal precision. He used his senses to wreck you, the flood of your arousal soaking his cock, the way your breaths came in choked sobs, the tremble in your limbs telling him you were unraveling. Leaning down, he spat on your clit, then rubbed it roughly with his thumb, the added slickness making everything filthier.
“Say it again,” he growled, pulling out almost fully before ramming back in, the angle shifting to drag along your g-spot. “Tell me you hate me while you cream on my dick.”
“I—I hate you,” you gasped, but it dissolved into a scream as he choked you silent, thrusting savagely. Your body betrayed you, clenching harder, the coil snapping without mercy. Orgasm tore through, gushing around him, your juices squirting onto his abdomen as you convulsed.
He didn't stop, fucking you through it, prolonging the waves until you were a sobbing mess. Only then did he pull out, fisting his cock, and come with a guttural groan, ropes of hot cum painting your stomach, your breasts, dripping down to mix with your release. But he wasn't done; scooping some up with his fingers, he shoved them back into your mouth, forcing you to taste the mingled mess. “Lick it up. That's us baby, nasty and stuck together.”
You sucked greedily, the salt and musk overwhelming, as he collapsed half on you, hand still loose around your throat. The hate lingered in the air, but so did the unbreakable pull, your bodies slick and spent in the aftermath.
Matt's weight pressed against you, his breath ragged and hot against your neck, the couch cushions dipping under your tangled bodies. Cum cooled on your skin, sticky trails mixing with sweat and your own release, the air thick with the musky scent of sex, raw, unfiltered, like the hate that still simmered between you. His hand lingered loose around your throat, thumb brushing idly over your pulse, not squeezing now, just holding, as if afraid you'd slip away if he let go entirely.
You shoved at his shoulder weakly, chest heaving, tears drying in salty tracks on your cheeks. "Get off," you muttered, voice hoarse from the screams and the choking, but there was no real fire left in it. Your body ached in the best-worst way, thighs trembling, pussy throbbing from the brutal pounding.
He shifted, rolling to the side just enough to give you space, but his arm draped across your waist, possessive even in the comedown. No soft words, no gentle wipes, just the barest acknowledgment as he grabbed the discarded towel from the floor, tossing it over your stomach in a half assed attempt to cover the mess. It smeared more than cleaned, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin, but you didn't protest. He wiped his cock roughly with the edge of it, then dropped it, pulling his pants back up with a grunt.
Silence stretched, broken only by your shared breaths slowing. You sat up slowly, ignoring the drip of cum down your breast, grabbing the towel to dab at yourself minimally, enough to stop the worst of it, but not caring about the rest. The sting between your legs made you wince, a reminder of how deep he'd gone, how roughly he'd claimed you despite everything.
"I didn't fuck Frank," you said finally, voice flat, staring at the wall as you pulled the towel around your shoulders like a shield. The words hung heavy, cutting through the post fuck haze. "Never did. It was just talk to piss you off, because you deserve to feel what it's like to lose control."
Matt's head turned toward you, unseeing eyes narrowing as he processed, his jaw tightening again. He sat up fully now, elbow propped on the couch back, close enough that his heat still invaded your space. "Then why the hell did you let me think—"
"Because you're a jealous asshole who ruins everything good," you cut in, meeting his blind gaze with your own glare, even if he couldn't see it. Your heart twisted, the vulnerability creeping in now that the anger had burned off. "I won't get back together with you, Matt. Not like this. Not until you fix yourself, stop with the possessiveness, the fights, the way you kiss everything out of me until I'm just... yours. I need more than this nasty hate-fuck cycle."
He exhaled sharply, fingers flexing on his knee, the stitches on his torso pulling taut under his shirt, he hadn't even bothered to fully undress, the bloodstains faint but there from earlier. For a beat, he was silent, the weight of your words sinking in, his heightened senses picking up the tremor in your voice, the way your scent shifted from arousal to something rawer, more fragile.
"Fine," he said at last, voice low and edged with reluctance, but there was a thread of sincerity woven in, unusual for him. "I'll work on it. Therapy, whatever the fuck it takes. But don't think this changes us, you're still mine, even if you're making me earn it."
You didn't respond, just stood on shaky legs, towel clutched tight as you headed toward the bedroom, leaving him on the couch in the dim light. The door clicked shut behind you, a small barrier, but the pull between you lingered, unresolved and electric.
it is an absolute crime to me that this only has 12 reblogs because it is SOOOOOOOOO good. like.... i'm speechless, i'm breathless, i'm in awe of your grasp and recapitulation of the shittier sides of matt murdock's personality
A/N: hey, so I havent written for a while, and tumblr was stupid and posted this out of my drafts the first time. So I kind of half passed the ending </3 hope its good though, I had fun with it. Thats all I care about lol.
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Male!Reader
Warnings: It gets smutty. Matt has a dirty mouth fr. Talks of blowjobs, penetration, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, hand jobs, lmk if I missed anything
"Father," he wrung his hands together. Bowing his head as he sat in the confinements of the confessional.
"Yes, my child," he answered, and Matthew gulped. "I'm sinning again." He chuckled, "It seems to be all I know how to do." The priest let out a soft laugh of his own. "I remember being your age. Young and spry. It's easy to do, and good that you recognize the sin. Rather than ignoring it and pretending you do no wrong."
Matthew smiled at the words. How could he pretend he did no wrong when it seemed all he knew what to do was wrong?
"So, what is bothering you today?" The Father asked, yet Matthew had no idea how to word what he wanted to say.
"I believe I'm in love with a man." He blurted, and The Father hummed. Thinking to himself, yet spewing no judgment. He was solely a messenger for God. He had no authority to judge the man in the booth beside him.
"Does this other man know?" He asked, and Matthew chuckled. "I don't know. I'm too worried to ask. I know he feels the same, but it feels wrong." The Priest hummed again at his words. "How do you know he feels the same?" "I just know." It was easier seeming arrogant rather than explaining that he could hear your heart pounding in your chest anytime Matthew got close to you. Or how it would skip a beat anytime you looked at him. Matt's surely did the same thing.
"You know, it may be sinful, but it doesn't mean you have to keep running." Matthew was unsure if he was implying that he should tell you how he feels. Or that he should completely smite you from his life. He came here to confess, yet that didn't mean he would listen to any advice given to him.
"Thank you for listening, Father. I have to go now," "So soon?" He sighed, smiling faintly. Matthew seemed to do this often. He'd come to ramble a little, and then scamper away like a scared cat. "I'll see you again, well, hear you," The Priest spoke, and Matthew smiled. "I'll hear you later, Father."
----
The tap of his cane was heard through your apartment. You weren't doing anything other than reading. Smiling softly as you tossed your legs lazily over the couch and headed for the door. You pushed it open, just a bit. This was how you "spied" on Matt to make sure he was walking home alone. Normally, you could hear Foggy following the blind-man home. He often chatted Matt's ear off the whole way down the hall of the building. Even into the apartment.
There were times you peaked, and you saw Matt with women before, too. The one you ran into on occasion in the hall when she visited him. Karen was the name Matthew repeated. "You probably ran into a woman on the way in. That's my friend Karen," he told you the one day he invited you over for coffee. "She's really pretty," you told him, and he smiled that smug smile. "She is?" He asked with a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he was being rude until you realized the joke. Smacking his shoulder with a playful laugh.
What you didn't realize was that each time you peaked out your door. Your neighbor heard you.
The moment your feet touched the floor of your apartment, he could hear you. The way you almost scampered to the door. Like you were in a rush to beat him before he opened his door. He always took his time fishing out his key so you could see him, though.
He heard the click of the doorknob as you opened your apartment. Just enough for you to see out. When you opened the door, it was like an invitation inside. He had rarely been invited over to your apartment - he always wondered why - but when you opened the door, he could hear the sound of your TV playing faintly in the background. The smell of the food you made prior for lunch and maybe even supper, too. Your coffee from earlier was stale now, the smell lingering the strongest down the hall. It always made his nose scrunch just a little.
Your fragrance was just strong enough to push through, though. Always drifting down. He always imagined a trail leading to your door. In the same shape as the trail that fresh pies left behind in the cartoons he watched as a boy while his father was out boxing. Before the accident.
That's what he imagined every time you opened that door. A tempting trail, tickling his nose and begging him to wander just a few doors down. It begged him to stumble in and say he got disoriented and wound up in the wrong apartment. An invitation just for him.
"Hey Matt," he turned his head at your voice. He stopped searching for the key in his pocket. He pretended to search longer than he really needed to, just so you had time to make yourself known.
He turned his head towards your voice. A small smile tugging every so gently at the corners of his lips. Just like they always were after he noticed you. "Hey, stranger," he greeted back. His body now turned to face you.
"You need help unlocking your door?" He often asked you to help him. It was easier than playing find the lock in the dark, essentially. He also asked, so he had an excuse to brush his fingers against yours. Sometimes even the excuse to hold your hand a bit, just so he's sure he doesn't drop the key.
But today wouldn't be one of those days. Not because he didn't want your help. Matt just had a sort of plan that he may or may not have just come up with on a whim.
"It's appears I left my key at the office," he told you with a faint chuckle. Reaching his cane-free hand up to rub the nape of his neck. "Maybe Foggys right, I should tie it to a necklace or something." He couldn't believe he was lying to you right now. Even if it was a little lie. What was his plan after?
You were shocked. Matt had never officially locked himself out since you've lived here. Then again, the once or twice that he had. Foggy was with him, and Foggy had a spare just for that reason.
"I can call Foggy for you?" You offered.
Bingo. There was his plan.
"Really? That would be very kind of you. You dont have to if I'm inconveniencing you, though. I don't want to bother you," he couldn't help but smile a little to himself. Along with at your generosity.
"Matthew, I'm calling Foggy. You'd never be a bother. Let's go sit in my apartment while we wait, okay?" Your gentle grasp on his bicep made him inhale sharply. It was your way of guiding him to your apartment. Such a simple, kind, and innocent gesture. Possibly just a friend helping a friend. In fact, he knew it was.
A man could use his imagination, though. He liked to think about you clinging to his arm as you strolled down to your shared apartment. If had the cozy life he wished he had. A life he wished he had with you.
Instead, he was left by himself, with you as his friendly neighbor. Who he caught himself thinking about too much.
The moment your door opened, he was hit with those smells from before. It was overwhelming, almost.
He stepped a foot inside, and it felt like he was embraced by you. Everything here smelt like everything that made him think of you. Plus, so much more.
He was guided to the couch, a gentle smile on his face. He wished you had invited him over more. Your place actually felt like a home, not just a roof and four walls.
"How's work been?" Your question brought him from his thoughts. Blinking fast under his glasses as he tried to blow away the clouds of you.
"Well, it's work. It's been pretty busy. Lots of paperwork, lately." He told you, and you nodded. You were standing in the kitchen now. He could hear the clanking of cups and the sound of your faucet starting.
"That's no fun," he heard the playful pout in your voice, and it made his stomach do flops. "You want some coffee while we wait? Or water," you offered, and he nodded. "I'll take what you're having," you both knew the answer to that.
He listened for a moment longer before he asked his own question. "Why don't you invite me over more? I know I have a coffee pot, but before you knew I had one. You'd bring a cup of your own over for me. How come?" He prodded, tilting his head as he faced almost opposite of you.
You pondered. He's always asking such forward questions. Honestly, you hadn't put too much thought into it until now.
You tapped your fingers on the counter. The coffee machine gurgling to life as the water heated inside it. "I guess I was just embarrassed," you blurted, cringing a little at your answer.
He let out a chuckle. A little puff of air following after. "Embarrassed? Over what? Your coffee addiction?" He teased, and you rolled your eyes. Walking over to the couch as you waited for the machine to work.
You sat beside him, your thigh brushing against his for just a second. You were quick to pull yourself to the side. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. "Sorry," you murmured, "don't be," he responded quickly. "Now tell me, why would you be embarrassed?" He asked, his voice softer than before now that you were up close.
You thought. "I guess I just have never really had anyone over before. Like, as a kid, teenager, adult. I always went over to other peoples homes. Plus," you gestured around, "I know you can't see it, but im not the tidiest.. I'm a little disorganized and cluttered. I have too much shit for this tiny ass apartment." You quipped, a laugh leaving your throat as you looked around your place. You weren't dirty by any means.
"Your place is just lived in. I love it when you invite me over," his comment made you stare at him. Searching his face for any sort of an indication that he was joking. He looked genuine, though. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I feel more at home here than in my own apartment." He blurted, hoping he did not instantly regret his statement.
He heard how your heart seemed to stutter at his comment. Disbelief, maybe?
"Thank you," your voice was so quiet. A whisper just for him. A prayer of thanks.
A prayer he didn't really deserve.
"No, thank you. You show me more kindness than a lot of people. I look forward to interacting with you, and I thank you for teaching me more about myself," he rambled a little. His own heart was racing now. He couldn't stop, though. He felt like he could tell you everything and anything. You were the one person who could crack open this lawyer.
You blinked. Smiling softly at the others' words as you watched him fidget with his cane. "What every could I teach you?"
A lot. The answer was a lot. You taught him that it was okay that he was different. You taught him not to be so scared of change. Over the course of the year and a half, you've known one another. You showed Matt that he could be a good person.
He just shrugged, though. "I guess that I'm a likable guy," he leaned back into the couch. His smile grew a little more.
The coffee pot going off is what disrupted the conversation. You grabbed both of your beverages before heading back to the couch.
Once back and sat, Matt was quick to fill the silence again. "Did you call Foggy?" He asked, and you gasped. Your hand flew for your phone on the table. "Shit, no, I forgot. I'm so sorry. You probably want to be back home, " you rambled.
"I'm not bothered. I'd like to ask you something anyways, " he hummed. "Are you interrogating me?" You joked, and he laughed. "No. I'm not the cop."
Your finger hovered over Foggys contact. "What's the question, then?"
His tongue swiped over his lips. His hand was holding tight on his cane. The sound of his heart was almost deafening in his ears. Why did you make him so nervous?
"Do you wait for me to get home?" He almost blurted. That wasn't the question he wanted to ask you. It almost caught him off guard. But he was curious. Did you?
You were nervous now. Was he catching on?
You scuffed your feet against the carpet. Fidgeting to yourself on the couch. "Uhm, well," you did. "Kind of? Not really," you lied, trying to keep cool. He could hear your heart thump louder. "I'm just off work before you, and I can hear your cane, and I like talking with you," you spoke fast. Way faster than you normally did.
He chuckled. You were so cute. Yet, you were also so charming in other ways. "I like talking with you too."
It fell silent for a moment. Matthew's confidence grew at your response, though.
"I'd like if we spoke more often, actually. I always look forward to when you stop me in the hall," he admitted. "Really? I get worried that I annoy you." He shook his head at your response. "Of course not. I consider you an important person in my life," You felt your body heat up out of embarrassment. He'd never been so personable with you before.
He was straight, though. You needed to stop thinking you had a chance.
"Wow, is this how you talk to the ladies, too?" You tried so hard to laugh it off. Your face only felt hotter, though. The more you thought about how close he was to you on the couch. And how he Cologne lingered so tastefully in the air.
Matthew laughed a little as well, but it wasn't as enthusiastic as you hoped. "No, not at all," "Right, you're more seductive with ladies. Im sure I was joking," "I can be seductive with you, too. I just never assumed you'd be into me."
Saying his sin out loud was almost a weight lifted off his shoulder. Was it selfish to think how relieving it felt to tell you, in a way?
"What?" You squeaked. You were in disbelief. Matt Murdock wanted to seduce you? "Me?"
His chuckle filled the air once more. "I've thought about it once or twice," he told you, with that devilish grin on his face.
The coffee long forgotten in your hands. You just sat there staring at the lawyer on your couch. His body slowly shifted away from you. You needed to say something before you scared him off with your malfunctioned silence.
"I think about you, too," your words trailed off a bit. Your eyes lingered over his body. You thought about him a lot.
That was his green light. Matthew scooted a little closer to you. The gap between the both of you growing smaller. "What do you think about?" He asked. He was so intrigued. He wanted to know. Was it sexual? Romantic? Soft and innocent scenarios? All of the above?
Your 'uh's and 'uhm's only made his grin grow. He'd never made you so flustered. "I think about you all the time. Last week, when I invited you over and you wore that honey scented body mist or whatever it was," his voice lowered a bit, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. You left my apartment, and it was like you were still there. I wanted to pull you in and never let you leave," you shuddered a little. His body was so close to yours now. His breath fanning across your face.
His hand reached out to brush your shoulder, and you melted. Your own hands finally reach out themselves. One hand on his bicep, which you gave a light squeeze. Your other hand resting on your own thigh to stabilize yourself. "Yeah, well, I think you should kiss me," you nearly whispered.
Matt's head spun with lust and admiration. He couldn't believe this was happening. He would never say no to such a tempting invitation, too.
His lips were on yours like fire. Mouth smashed against yours in a hungry kiss. You were quick to put your coffee on the table. Nearly missing the surface as he pulled you on top of himself. God, he'd wanted this for too long.
Your bodies were mashed together. Hands pawing at one another's forms. Gliding and rubbing in attempts to feel every inch of each other.
He pulled off you with heavy breaths. That damn smile on his face. His hair was disheveled, and honestly. You liked it compared to his normal, clean look. He was quick to pull you back in for another kiss. Though this one was cut short by the ringing of your phone.
You pulled back. Matt let out a grunt of disapproval as you reached for it. It had wound up on the floor.
"Who is it?" He asked, and you chuckled. Reaching down to swipe answer, "Hey, Foggy," "Hey, have you heard from Matt?" He asked, you could hear typing in the background. He must still be at the office.
You stared down at the man underneath you. A playful smile on your own lips, now. "Yeah, he's right here. You need to talk to him?" "Yes, please. His phone went to voice mail. I figured you'd go check on him, not that he'd be with you," the man admitted. You only gave a quick "yeah, he forgot his key," before you handed the phone to Matt.
Matt answered his friend. His hand rested on your thigh as he spoke. "Yeah, im kind of busy right now," he finally blurted. "Matt, I'm busy too," you could hear his friend pester and the man gave in. Letting Foggy talk his ear off on the current case they were working on.
You leaned your hips back to adjust your body. You figured you'd get off the man and let him talk. His tight grip on your thigh stopped you, though. Your hips rocking back and his hips thrusted up. His eyebrows knit together as his lips pursed.
An idea flashed across your mind as you rocked your hips again. Making a purpose to grind your ass into his crotch. "Fuck, I mean. Foggy, can I call you back?" And before his friend could answer. He was hanging up the phone.
You grinned. His head fell back on the arm of the couch, and both his hands were on you, now. "Why would you do that?" He snipped a little. His hips jolted as you rocked again. "I was bored, I guess."
It wasn't long before he had you in the bedroom, somehow. Clothes strewn along the floor like he lived there, too.
You couldn't stop looking at his body. Even in the dark, you could make out scars along his arms and back. What the hell kind of lawyer was he? He didn't give you too much time to think about it, though.
His finger inside you made your body tense. Your back arching with a small moan. His lips were on your neck. Mouthing and biting at the flesh. He curled his finger inside you before adding a second. He couldn't help but laugh a little at how much you squirmed.
"How're you so antsy already? We haven't even started yet." His voice was gravely. His fingers worked you open like he'd done this before. You wondered if he had? Maybe you judged his character completely wrong.
It wasn't long before he had three fingers in you. Little laughs, leaving his mouth with each moan you let out. "God, you're so cute like this. Are you ready?" He asked, and you let out a breathy, yes. Of course you were.
"Tell me what you think about me doing, then." He still wanted to know.
His cock sitting on your thigh made your head spin. This wasnt fair. "I cant," you whined, and he chuckled. Leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Come on, I've thought about you sucking my dick. Inviting you to my office and having you hide under my desk." His hand brushed over your dick. Your back arching off the bad with a groan.
"I think about you fucking me over your desk sometimes," you humored him, your head falling back as he pushed his tip inside of you. "Fuck, what else?" Your legs searched for a comfortable position.
"I uhm, oh fuck" you were cut off by him stroking you. "I think about you making me suck you," he slid furth in. "God, I wanna suck you off, think about it a lot," you whimpered. A yelp leaving your throat as he slammed up into you. His hand now had a grip on your jaw. "Maybe tomorrow." He sighed before he started moving.
Matt was quick with his movements. Once he knew you were comfortable, he was fucking you like a rabid animal. He was a grunting, panting, sweaty mess. And all you could do was call out his name like he was all you needed.
His hands were exploring every inch of you, too. Your chest, your thighs, your ass. He needed to know what every inch of you felt like.
Your body felt like it was on fire. Every snap of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Matt" and profanities were the only thing you could call out while you scratched at his arms and back. Your own hips started to move as you reached a high you'd never felt before.
One of the hottest guys in Hells Kitchen was fucking you stupid.
"Mm, gonna make you mine," he growled, his teeth biting down on your should as he tried to bury himself further inside you. It felt like he was splitting you open, but in the best way possible.
"Mm, yours," was all you could get out between his thrusts and your moans. It was enough for Matthew to understand, though. His grip tightened on your hips as his thrusts grew sloppy. One of his hands snaked down to rub between your legs.
It wasn't long before you came. A loud shout, leaving your throat as your hips raised off the bed. He buried himself deep inside you, too. His body shook as he came down from his own climax. Bodies convulsing and clinging to one another like you needed each other. In that moment, it felt like you did.
Your brain was buzzing. His body was heavy on top of you before he rolled off of you onto his side. His arms still draped around you. "That was a lot better than my imagination," he huffed, and you let out a soft giggle. "Yeah, it was better than mine, too." He kissed your temple. "I should have had you grab a towel or something," he muttered. Before climbing off the bed and searching for his shirt that he knew, he threw off beside the bed.
"I can get a new shirt." He could hear your hesitation when he offered it to you. "Plus, I think you like looking at me without one," he grinned. Catching the pants, you tossed into his chest while taking the shirt out of his hands. "Don't get too cocky," he snickered. Shimying the clothing back on. "Me? Cocky? Honey, I'm a lawyer. I dont have an ego," he smirked, that boyish grin on his face. You knew that was a lie, and so did he. "I'm just confident."
