#Matt murdock x autistic reader

[chaithetics]

A Purrfect Addition

Pairing: Matt Murdock x autistic plus size f reader Prompt: Autistic joy and fluff with Matt Murdock (several prompts given in DMs) Word count: 2.8K gif by @cellophaine Warnings/themes: Fluff, no physical descriptions of reader other than being plus size, established relationship, cats, autistic joy, not proof read A/N: This is another Fics for Palestine piece! Please keep doing what you can everyone! Thank you to @gpenguin666 for donating to UNRWA and PCRF! I appreciate you sharing everything you did and giving such a lovely and personal prompt, I hope you enjoy this! I hope everyone else enjoys this, I'd love feedback and comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶

I am so sorry for how long this took, this is the hardest fic I've ever written I swear, after getting the prompts I caught covid, had a lupus flare and then my laptop broke and I wrote half of this on my phone (which I never do) I stayed up to finish this and now it's 6am. What a cursed time but we got there!

You’d woken up early this morning, already starting your day with your current favourite breakfast. It was one that you’d been fixated on for the last few weeks, it was a safe meal but also a joyful one. Each bite leads to you scrunching up your face in joy, doing a little happy dance and humming while in your seat. 

You were comfortably sitting at the desk in the loft apartment that you now shared with the love of your life, your sweet, sweet, sweet Matt. Your laptop was in front of you, you hadn’t spent the morning doom scrolling, as you would proudly tell yourself and anyone who asked, but instead spent it looking at pictures of the cutest cats on the websites of the closest local rescues. 

Cats had always been a special interest of yours, you adored them. You loved watching videos of cats online, reading different facts about them that would then find their way into every conversation that called for a mention or when you were given the opportunity to passionately infodump. Matt would proudly smile whenever your ability to retain such specific information showed up and also whenever you were able to give him a new fact about cats and other fixations and special interests, that he’d never heard of before or even considered googling. His charming smile would also come out and you could see his eyes crinkle whenever you repeated one that he knew was your favourite as well. 

It now felt like the right time to have a new ‘housemate’, a feline addition to the Hells Kitchen apartment. You hadn’t had a cat in a few years you loved them and it was a much more practical pet to have considering your home environment and the lifestyle of Matt’s heroic double life. 

Matt had woken up and dressed for the day now, he walked out of the bedroom and followed the noises he could hear. Your heartbeat was beating excitedly as you looked at the profile of an adorable ginger cat. Matt smiled as he heard your heartbeat, placing it as a sign that you were happy and his heightened hearing could also pick up the sounds of a fidget toy twirling in your hand. 

“Morning sweetheart.” Matt spoke with traces of sleep still in his voice, you swirled around to face him in your chair smiling.

“Morning Matty.” Your cheeks heated up as you couldn’t help but melt at the sweet term of endearment, even though you’d already heard it a million times. It just always sounded so good coming from him, the way his voice said it just turned your heart to mush and flustered you each time. 

Matt’s lips quirked up into a smile, he could tell from your heartbeat and tone that you were feeling flustered and happy by his greeting, just as you always were. He came closer, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead while you sat in front of him and his hand caressed your soft arm as he did. 

“How do I look?” Matt asked as he waited for your verdict. 

That simple question had become part of your routines at the start of each day. He appreciated your honesty and Matt knew that if he hypothetically, ever had something on his face that he was yet to pick up on, you’d quickly tell him so that it could be wiped away and you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. You had never been one to sugarcoat and that was never something you needed to feel insecure about when with Matt, he understood you. You didn’t need to worry about overexplaining yourself to try and avoid being called rude or be anxious over extra social cues about how your words were being interpreted and if you were nice enough, or ever be scolded or a butt of a joke over how your brain worked and what you said. This small question had now become part of your daily routines. 

Matt stood in front of you, dressed for the day, wearing his white button-up shirt that was buttoned all the way up but untucked from his tidy slacks. It caught your eye as it was normally something he’d tuck in, he’d forgotten to do so today which was unusual. Normally he’d be reminded to tuck it in if he forgot because of how the layering of different fabrics felt against his skin. 

Tilting your head, you slowly looked Matt up and down, scanning his fit physique and his outfit. Taking in every inch and detail of his appearance before giving your opinion. His short hair was brushed to the side, looking just as soft as always, Matt always looked handsome you felt lucky to wake up next to him every day. A feeling he shared and that he made sure you were aware of every day. 

“Mm, yeah it’s nice but I think it would look nicer if you tucked your shirt in, tidier. But other than that, it looks great.” You reply after taking your time to look at his outfit and give your opinion.

“Right, gotcha.” Matt says with a nod and he starts to tuck his button up into his trousers. “Can’t believe I forgot that.” He finishes and runs his hand along the waist of his trousers to make sure it’s properly tucked in and he doesn’t have a duck tail. 

“How’s that now?” Matt asks putting his hands out for your feedback again. 

You immediately nod as your eyes look him up and down again. You nod after a moment and your cheeks heat up with how handsome and perfect he looks like this. 

“Yep, that's perfect. You look very handsome Matty.” You answer as you keep looking at his outfit, you're sure he's oblivious to how good he looks. 

“Thanks sweetheart.” Matt says and he leans over to press an appreciative kiss to your cheek. 

His lips feel warm against your cheek and it tickles. The kiss, term of endearment and how good he looks fills you up with joy that's bubbling up in your body at the verge of bursting out.

Matt smiles and blushes as he hears your heart excitedly race and you stim. You start to bounce in your seat, your fingers twirling and then you flap your hands back and forth. You gasp and squeal as you flap your hands, the physical feeling of joy trickling out and feeling good as you stim. 

“Do I look particularly handsome today, sweetheart?” Matt asks as he smiles and his eyes crinkle slightly which just makes your heart beat more loudly and you squeal. 

“You're always handsome.” You say matter of factly. 

“And you'd testify that in Court?” He asks playfully. 

“But why would that come up in court? Well yes because it's the truth… But I don't see how that would come up.” You answer looking at Matt, feeling a bit confused at what context could make that relevant in the very flawed criminal justice system. 

“Sorry darling, it was a silly joke just to get you to say you think I'm pretty again.” His face changes into a soft smile as he explains himself and a blush tints his pale cheeks. 

“You can just ask me to call you pretty.” You reply as you start to feel the soft material of your pants. 

“Mm sweetheart? Can you call me pretty, please?” He asks with a charming smile and a sweet tone and she nod. 

“You're very pretty Matty darling. The prettiest man I've ever met and you're pretty every day.” You reply and he blushes more. 

“Thank you.” He smiles and kisses you softly on the lips. 

********************************

Over the rest of the week, whenever you had your laptop out or your phone was in your hand you found yourself continuing to look at the local rescues adoption pages. It was becoming a new routine, especially on days where procrastination was more than welcoming. 

Matt had started to notice at home, he heard your gasps, how your feet would excitedly tap against the floor, how your heart would race as you looked at whatever it was on your laptop. It didn't take long for him to be fully curious. 

Matt tilted his head towards you, running his fingers over your full cheek with a sweet smile painted on. 

“What have you been looking at lately?” He whispered softly.

“What?” You asked, not sure what he was referring to. 

“When you're on your devices, I can hear your heart beating like a little hummingbird and you start to happy stim.” Matt elaborates. 

You nod, looking ahead, it makes sense that Matt would've noticed. He's a walking lie detector but also a walking happy detector too when it comes to you. 

“It's this cat.” 

“Oh?”

“That rescue a few blocks over, I've been looking at their website. They have this really cute cat and he just looks so cuddly and silly and funny.” 

“For adoption?” Matt asks as he hears the excitement enter your voice. 

“Yeah!” You unlock your phone and search the cat rescue to get to Gary's page. “His name is Gary but I think he’s definitely a Purrdock.” You say with a smile, looking at Matt and then the cute cat on the screen.

“Purrdock, that’s original.” Matt chuckles as he adjusts slightly to cuddle into you.

“I thought it was clever.” You reply feeling proud of yourself for coming up with Purrdock as a name. “Maybe he can be named after you, Catt Purdock Jr?” You continue and can’t help it but immediately start laughing. 

Matt finds the joke more than amusing as well and laughs, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles with a wide grin. He's impressed with your humour too.

“Read the profile, please?” Matt asks, he's curious to know what's caught your interest with this cat in particular. You happily oblige and start to read Gary's profile to Matt as he happily and patiently listens to your voice, it's his favorite sound in the world. 

“What kind of cat is he?” Matt follows up with. 

“He's a ginger Persian cat with the silliest face and they're really soft and fluffy Matty.” You reply as joy fills you while looking at the face of the two year old cat on your screen.

“You want him?” Matt asks softly. 

You immediately nod and start to rattle off the practical reasons of why a cat would work in this apartment, how it would work well with your lifestyles, how adopting is better than shopping, that they're so cute and you told Matt a few cat facts as well. 

Matt smiled and listened to you speak, he had no intention of saying no, how could he? You were right, it would make you happy and he loved you, he only wanted to make you happy. As soon as you'd finished your pitch, Matt smiled and agreed. He was more than happy to try starting the adoption process for Gary/Purrdock Jr with you. 

When Matt had agreed you couldn't help but excitedly stim, flapping your hands, squealing and blinking quickly. 

After a few minutes you kissed Matt softly on the lips, which he happily returned. Matt’s sturdy arms wrapped around you, you can’t help but tilt your head and smile as you bite on his bicep. Matt lets out a small chuckle as you do it, a sensation he’s come used to during your relationship. He sees it for the affectionate sign it is and he enjoys it. 

How lucky he is to share his life with you. 

******************************

“Purrdock junior wants a cuddle.” You inform Matt and he chuckles as the ginger cat walks up Matt’s body, draping himself across Matt’s chest and shoulder. Purrdock quickly makes himself comfortable. Just as any human or cat would in Matt’s presence. 

Matt smiles and lets out a small chuckle as the cat’s tail and small paws tickle him. You smile widely, your hand petting the cat for a moment. 

It had been a couple of months now since you'd officially adopted Gary “Purrdock Jr”. His nickname was often used and had been a hit at Matt's office, Foggy had almost fallen over laughing when he heard it. Your furry friend was more settled in now and was perfectly cuddly, thoroughly spoiled with toys, and every friend of yours had also been thoroughly spoiled with the cutest cat pics. He was 90% of your camera roll now. His favourite sleeping position was on Matt, which you understood, his body was very comfy. 

“They’re called Persian cats so you’d think they’re from Iran, most people do, but they don't actually much about their history. With how science has developed they’ve been able to do more analysis of their DNA, and their genetic makeup is actually similar to cats from Western Europe.” You start to speak as the three of you are curled up on the couch for a cozy Saturday afternoon. 

“There was this Italian nobleman though, Pietro della Valle, he was a composer and traveled in Asia, the Middle East and North Africa during the Renaissance, old Renaissance not Beyonce Renaissance. But he traveled to Persia with his wife and there's the theory that he brought them back home to Western Europe after seeing their adorable, silly faces.” 

Matt listens intently, taking in each word and fact that leaves your lips, wearing a peaceful and content smile on his. He nods along, his hand caressing your soft body as he pays attention, enjoying the way your full, beautiful body feels against his, the passion he can just feel vibrating off of you as you speak and how mesmerizing your voice is as you quickly share this information. 

“But there are some people who believe that they came to Europe because of the sailors, or the merchants or just other rich travelers,” you continue. “And with the sailors, it makes sense because it was considered good luck to have cute little kittens on board. Especially if it was a black cat, which is interesting because they were generally considered a bad omen and satanic since the medieval times, because of old Catholicism.” Matt listened, a small devilish smirk gracing his face at the subtle jab to Catholicism and the fact that he was already aware of the origins of the black cat paranoia. Not because he himself was a Catholic but instead because it was a unique nugget of information he'd learnt from you during a previous cat-themed infodump. 

“The Italians are superstitious about black cats but a sneezing black cat is the ultimate sign of good luck. But that's better than Greeks tricking and killing daughters for good sailing winds.” 

“Wait what?” He blinked, feeling startled and concerned by whatever that was referencing. 

“Agamemnon's daughter for good winds to sail for the Trojan War. Catholics and any version of the Bible aren't the only pieces with murderous family soap opera.” Matt chuckles at that and nods. He remembers you telling him about your Greek mythology special interest from when you were a kid. 

“And then, they arrived here in America in the early 1900s, they were one of the first breeds that were registered with the Cat Fanciers Association when they formed in 1906. So they might never know the full picture of their origins, and stay a fluffy mystery but now we have this silly little guy.” You say looking at the cat and petting him. 

Matt listens to your infodump about Persian cats and the related facts with a large smile on his face. He listens intently while slowly petting Gary, or Purrdock as he knows you'll expect him to call the cat. He loves the sound of your voice and he’d happily listen to you talk for the rest of his life. It's what he plans to do any way, after all. 

He moves slowly and only slightly so he doesn't disturb the ginger shnookums resting comfortably on him. Having a partner that's Daredevil comes with useful agility skills. Matt kisses your cheek softly and it makes you smile.

You bite Matt's bicep with a big smile on your face and he chuckles, his hand caressing your back as you affectionately continue. It feels good and it's a silent way of saying I love you. 

Warm bubbles of joy wrap you up as you're so close to your special person and you get to bask in all of this. You feel loved, seen, and happy, just as you deserve to be, in this moment and with the life you have with Matt and your new furry best friend. It's a warm feeling, like how sun bathes you in a peaceful Sunday afternoon, which is exactly what it is. 

[brianwashere]

hiii <3 i love ur work and was wondering if you could do matt murdock x overstimulated autistic partner comfort fic? :] have a nice day

Omg ofc I can! I love writing situations that are more uncommon to find in fanfics!

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

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Autistic!Male!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: look at req

Tw: overstimulation, very descriptive negative sensations (I hate every negative sensation I wrote about), slightly suggestive comments but it’s all a joke made to cheer you up

A Kind Hand

You liked Matt for many reasons. His kind heart. His willingness to put himself aside to help others. His looks, too.

But you really liked that he never judged you for having autism and that he could tell when you got overstimulated without you having to tell him.

The two of you were at some outdoor festival and there were so many people. So. Many. People. All the little sounds they made, every bird chirp, all the colors and smells of hundreds of people mixing into one giant cesspool of information that needed to be filtered. That was too much to be filtered.

Matt could already tell that you were freaking out a bit. Your heart rate was increasing quickly and he could smell the sweat on your palms.

“Hey, are you ok, darling?” He whispered quietly to you.

You shook your head no, despite him not being able to see it.

“Overstimulated…” You mumbled, bringing your fingers to your ears.

He nodded.

“Do you wanna go home?” He whispered again.

You swallowed and nodded, but cringing slightly, remembering he couldn’t see you nod.

“Mhmm…” You hummed, hoping he would take it as a yes.

“Do you wanna hold my hand?” Your lover held out his hand, offering it to you.

You gently took it and intertwined your fingers with his, trying to focus only on him and not what was happening around you.

Matt kept you close to him as he parted the sea of people with his walking stick. Most people moved far away from him when they realized he was blind, pretty nice in this situation.

Your gripped onto his arm and huddled as close to him as you could to avoid touching any unwanted textures, or people in general. Just thinking of touching anything other than Matt made your skin crawl.

The two of you had finally made it out of the large crowd and got further away from all the loud unpredictable noises. It was already helping but you really wanted to just go home, put on your noise canceling headphones and lay in your boyfriend’s silk sheets.

Just as you were thinking about how nice it’ll be at home a car on the street next to you let out a sudden loud honk, and caused you to jump, wrapping your arms around Matt. Without saying a word he wrapped his arm around you and gently kissed your head.

The sudden noise of the car horn seemed to jolt you back to oversensitivity and you felt every fiber of your shirt and the awful feeling of the jeans you were wearing in humid weather. It made you want to gag.

You took a shaky breath and pulled away from Matt, needing less pressure on your uncomfortable clothes.

“You alright?” He checked.

You suddenly felt like crying with frustration at the idea of needing to use words but swallowed down your discomfort.

“Can’t—handle…touch.” You managed to string together.

He nodded and kept walking, listening for your footsteps.

When you two finally reached the apartment it felt like you were two seconds away from exploding. Matt hurried the both of you in and just entering your shared apartment made it better. The same smell you were used to, the quieter environment.

You still needed to get out of your clothes tho and Matt seemed to realize it too. He headed to the bedroom to rummage around and find a soft shirt for you.

You didn’t even wait to get to the bedroom to strip your jeans off. The clinging feeling of damp denim finally leaving. Left only in your boxers, you sighed with relief and walked to Matt.

“Stripping already? I haven’t even bought you a drink yet, pretty boy.” Your boyfriend teased, trying to lighten the mood.

You huff out a laugh and give him a tired smile, despite him not being able to see it. He always manages to make you smile.

He hands you the significantly softer shirt and you waste no time in changing.

God, that festival and the overstimulation really zapped your energy, you realized, rubbing your face.

“Probably gunna nap…” You mumbled.

Matt hummed in acknowledgment.

“Can I kiss you before you take a nap?” He asks, very politely for someone who’s slept in the same bed as you every night for over a year.

You smile at his courtesy.

“Forehead.” You say as you guide his hands to your face so he knows where your forehead is.

He gently presses his lips to your forehead.

“Have a good nap, love. I’ll probably be reading a book.” Matt says offhandedly as he leaves the room.

Only as you’re settling under the silk covers do you realize Matt can’t read books.

[ellephlox]

Anchor

Summary: Matt helps you when you're overstimulated at a party.

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader on the autism spectrum

Warnings: Description of panic attack, overstimulation, brief and very indirect reference to sexual assault, profanity.

A/N: I apologize in advance if this doesn't fit with your experience of autism! I just used my own tendencies as inspiration to write this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

Foggy warned you that his family could be... intense. Not just rambunctious, or extraverted, but more like a crowd of drunken mega-fans when their favorite team won the Super Bowl.

"So I get it if you don't want to come," he said, speaking through a mouthful of poutine. "No pressure at all. It's just a summer barbecue. But the only food there will be lasagna, just so you know."

"Why lasagna?" You sat across from him and Karen at a small, quiet diner after work, with Matt to your left. Sometimes you went to Josie's, purely because it was Matt and Foggy's favorite bar, but on busy days you'd go to this smaller eatery instead. Matt never made a big deal of it, and never said specifically to Karen and Foggy why he always suggested the quieter restaurant on the days when Josie's was brimming with patrons and music, but you knew why, and you'd told him a thousand times how grateful you were.

"Why lasagna?" Foggy repeated. "Uh, because July 29th is none other than the very important holiday, National Lasagna Day?"

"I have a feeling your definition of 'very important' differs ever so slightly from mine," you said. "Sorry. Haven't heard of it. So, you celebrate this because...?"

"Because my dad thought it would be funny and then it kinda stuck. So now it's an official Nelson Family Tradition."

"He's dragged me to some really weird traditions over the years," Matt said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You liked the feeling of being in a cubby of his arms, and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him. There weren't many people you could lean into comfortably, but Matt was one of them. "Careful. Once you go to one, he invites you to all of them. I'm still recovering from the Hammock Olympics."

"What's—"

"Don't ask," Foggy cut in. "It's a long story. But think about it, okay? We'd love to have you."

You weren't keen on going to a lasagna party — or any party, for that matter — but you agreed. Foggy had been your friend for a long time, and you felt that you owned it to him; besides, as much as he claimed his family was rowdy, they couldn't be that unruly.

But nothing could have prepared you for the swarm of Nelsons that spilled out of the house and onto the lawn. They were everywhere: Dancing to music that pumped from a speaker with far too much bass that made you wince. Shooting hoops in the short driveway and bodily ramming into one another, sweat visible under their arms. Hovering over the drinks, pouring from the array of alcohol that was stacked on a folding table.

"How many family members does Foggy even have?" you asked, under your breath, as you slowed slightly. Matt was leisurely tapping his cane next to you, his hand loosely around your arm.

"Based on memory? A few dozen. But..." Matt's brow crinkled. "There's definitely more than five dozen heartbeats here right now."

"More than sixty? How are there so many Nelsons? How are they all even able to attend? Don't some of them have other obligations to go to?"

"If it gets really packed in there, and you want to leave, we can go anytime."

"It's okay. I'll be fine."

"Really, sweetheart." Matt tugged at your arm slightly. "Just showing up is a huge deal for Foggy. We can leave at anytime, and no one will judge us."

You smiled at him. "You're the coolest guy ever, you know that?"

Walking up the Nelsons' driveway, you hoped that you and Matt would just melt into the crowd, but instead Foggy caught a glimpse of you and waved wildly. Wonderful. You put a wide smile on your face, though, and waved back stiffly. Awkwardly. Maybe no more waving for me.

To distract yourself from the heat already rising in your face, you began to narrate to Matt. "Foggy's up ahead of us. Drinks are all on the left. Lemonade, I think, apple cider, vodka, wine. And... what looks like a cheese board? There's also a lot of chalk all over the driveway. Hop scotch, body outlines, and genitalia, I think."

"Hopefully the last isn't courtesy of Foggy."

"I don't think so. Foggy is—"

"Behind you, and delighted that you came," Foggy said, coming up from behind and hugging you. You stiffened, unprepared for the embrace, but he bounced back quickly, his face flushed with the heat of the day. "Happy National Lasagna Day! I'd recommend getting in there before the Twisted Teas are gone."

In the corner of your eye, you could see someone reaching over to turn up the volume on the music. The bass thumped out of the speakers with even more force, and simultaneously a baby started wailing only ten feet away from you. You tensed slightly, resisting the urge to simply turn around and walk away from this party. For Foggy. For Foggy, I'll stay here and enjoy myself as much as I can.

Matt must have sensed it, because his hand crept to yours and squeezed. "Drinks nearby?"

"Yeah, about five feet to your left," Foggy said. "I'll read you the options. Hey, Y/N — my mom wants to meet you." At your bewildered look, Foggy raised his hands. "I don't know why. I'm just the messenger. She's inside, in the kitchen right now, and all she said was she wants to talk to you once you get here."

"She wants to talk to me?" The prospect was alarming. So was the idea of leaving Matt's side in a swarm of people like this. But you had no choice, because Mrs. Nelson suddenly waved from the front door, as though she'd sensed your arrival, beckoning you inside.

"She's waving me in," you said, panicking slightly. "Foggy, are you sure she meant me?"

"Positive. Sorry. She's going to pry, but don't feel obligated to tell her your darkest secrets. I think she likes the idea of having a girl to chat with about Matt and me."

Dear God. Please let this not last long. You reluctantly parted from Matt, and made your way into the brightly lit, maximist-style interior of the Nelson home. Knick-knacks and assorted tchotchkes surrounded you as though you were in an antique shop.

"Y/N!" Mrs. Nelson appeared again, her face round like Foggy's. You started to extend a hand, but she went right in for a hug — so that's where Foggy gets it from — and squeezed you. Limply you stood there, awkwardly reaching to hug back with one arm.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson," you said. "Can I help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Don't be silly, that's not why I asked you in here. I want you to give me intel."

"Intel?"

"On Matthew! You're dating him, aren't you?"

"Oh — I—"

"We've known Matthew since he was a first year in law school," she went on, picking up a knife and chopping at a carrot with dextrous agility. "That boy doesn't ever settle down. But now he's met you, and I want details!"

"Um..." You averted your gaze. She hardly blinked at all, and it was unnerving. Instead you focused on the dripping faucet, and then the picture frames to your left. Foggy in college, Foggy with his siblings, a family portrait outside of Acadia National Park. You finally compromised and settled your gaze to the corner of her left eye. Close enough. "Well, we met about a year ago. Matt's always just understood me, and I guess we got along well with conversation, so here we are."

"You thinking of getting married?"

I barely know this woman, and she wants to know about my relationship. Your stomach was clenching at what you'd say, and it didn't help knowing that Matt was certainly listening to every word of the conversation. "I don't — I mean, I'm not really... I can't say. Not because I don't know, but because that's between me and Matt, mostly." Shit. Was that too harsh? You assumed it wasn't, because Mrs. Nelson went right on smiling.

The door slammed as someone else came in. You whirled around, hoping desperately it was Matt, but it was some unnamed relative who had the distinct Nelson features and a cigarette in his hand. He lit it, breathing in deeply, and exhaling smoke into the air.

"You know I don't like you smoking inside, Ben," Mrs. Nelson said, shooing at him.

"Sorry." Ben didn't stop smoking. You winced as the smell of cigarette smoke wafted up to you, and glanced at the closed window. That air Ben was exhaling — it was now in your lungs, and you could feel it tickling your throat. The more you thought about the fact that you were inhaling his air, the more restless you felt. The smoke curled through the air, and breezed against you as he sucked on the cigarette again. Surely it was now going to cling to your clothes for the rest of the day. You'd be able to smell it, you knew. And Matt would be able to smell it too, which would make it a hundred times worse because now you felt bad—

"Y/N?"

Your head snapped back to Mrs. Nelson. "Sorry?"

"I wondered if you'd like to hold the baby. She's fourteen weeks old today. I can ask Susan to bring her in for you."

That's the very last thing I want to do, actually.

You struggled for an answer, and finally landed on an excuse. "That's very kind of you to offer. But I think I've got to go back out," you said, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder and plastering a gracious look on your face. "I want to find Matt and... introduce him to someone."

Please don't ask who.

Fortunately, Mrs. Nelson didn't question you at all. "Oh, of course! I won't keep you."

Yes, please don't.

You hurried out of the kitchen, not realizing you were holding in a breath until you were in the mercifully clean, smoke-free air outside. The downside was that in the time you had been indoors, the sun had emerged from behind the clouds, and metamorphosed the already humid day into a blistering sauna.

You found Matt standing in the direct sunlight with some of Foggy's brothers. There was no shade to be found, and you mourned your decision to not put on sunscreen today as you joined his side and resisted the urge to hoist the back of your cardigan over your head like a parasol. The sweltering sunshine was so intense that you felt as though you could feel your skin burning second by second.

They all laughed — at what, you weren't sure — but it rang in your ears, nearly making you screw up your face. How was Matt handling this? Surely it was bothering him more than it bothered you. Yet he had a placid expression on his face, holding his cane loosely with one hand and sipping on a beer with the other.

"Last call for the cheese board," Foggy said suddenly. "And Mom says it'll be another two hours until supper, so grab some Swiss and Muenster now or forever hold your hunger."

Your stomach felt as though it were curdling. Two hours? It was already an hour past when you usually had lunch. Two more hours was frankly terrifying. And the only thing standing between you and the two-hours-out-lasagna was... cheese.

"Want to make our way over there, then?" you asked Matt, as casually as you could. There was no sense in letting him know you were stressed. He was having a good time, that much you could tell, and the last thing you wanted was for your discomfort to bring down his day.

Matt went with you to the table, and only when you were out of earshot of Foggy and his brothers did he speak. "Hey. You doing okay?"

"I've been better. I've been worse." There was no sense in trying to lie to him. "Let's just grab some cheese. I didn't realize lunch would be so late, or I would've had something at home."

But just before you reached the table, a girl of about eight or nine years ran in front of you, and dug both hands — both hands, two hands with chalk and dirty visibly staining them — into the platter of cheese, scooping out a handful for herself.

"Ella!" her mother snapped, a few feet away. "You've had enough. No more cheese."

The girl obeyed, tossing all the cheese slices back into the platter and running away cheerfully. You stood stock still, frozen in your spot.

Matt cocked his head slightly. "Still hungry for cheese?"

"Why?" you managed. "Why, why, why? Who just touches all the food then dumps it back in?" The cheese was too tainted now. Wistfully you looked at it, then at your watch. One hour, fifty-six minutes left. And that was if Mrs. Nelson served the lasagnas on time.

"I think that the Nelson household is your new nemesis," Matt said, pulling you in towards him. "Anything I can do?"

"No," you said, fighting to keep yourself optimistic. For Matt, for Foggy. "Thank you, though."

"We can imagine we're in a version of the Hunger Games. Except instead of bloodthirsty teens, we're surrounded by small talk and cigarette smoke."

"You knew?"

"Smelled it right away." Matt took your arm again as you made your way back to the circle of Nelson brothers. "And figured you were having the time of your life in there."

"Ha."

"If it makes you feel any better, all their stomachs have rumbled in the past half an hour," Matt said softly, nodding his head in the direction of Foggy's brothers. "You're not the only one who's disappointed that lunch is two hours out. And..." He shifted so that his right ear was facing Foggy. "It sounds like Foggy really, really needs to pee right now."

You let out a laugh. "Information I didn't need to have."

Matt only smiled as you both rejoined the circle.

You thought you'd make it until lunch. It was only two hours, you kept telling yourself, it wasn't long. Not much longer in the sun. Not much longer you'd have to stand there while Ben lit another cigarette nearby and the wind carried the smoke right into your face. Not much longer that the Nelsons would keep getting drunker and drunker and their laughs more raucous. And, certainly, it wouldn't be much longer that the music was blaring, pumping through your ears to rattle your very bones.

And then everyone grouped together, for one large family conversation, and you found yourself being jostled into the middle of a massive, warm crowd of Nelsons, shoulder-to-shoulder with people you'd never met before. The panic you had kept at bay so far began to swell like a tsunami under the surface of tranquil waters, thudding in your heart and moving up to your face. Too warm. The sun beat down, not a cloud in sight. All of the little kids were next to you now, singing and jumping up and down, and—

One of them sneezed, and with horror you felt droplets of mucus land on your right arm.

"I have to go," you gasped to Matt, slipping backwards out of the crowd and making a beeline for the house. Bathroom. You needed a bathroom.

But the final straw was the bathroom itself. Another speaker sat in the windowsill, projecting music loudly to the backyard, and it smelled like someone took a shit in there, making you gag and turn around—

Straight into Matt.

"Matt," you whispered. "I can't. I can't do this."

"Sweetheart—"

"It's too much. I've tried, but I can't, they're sneezing and laughing and dancing and I just can't do it anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Because I'm ruining your day!" You crossed into the hallway and sat on the bottom of the stairs, rubbing your hands over your face and hair, again and again, as though to get the sound off. Only then did you realize with horror that you hadn't yet washed your arm, so you leapt up to run to the sink. Matt followed you, nimbly stepping over the clutter that was strewn on the floor. "If you didn't have me at your side, being a leech, you'd still be out there, laughing with them and sipping a beer. And — and you've got the hearing of a fucking bat, but you're able to tolerate everything, while I just throw a tantrum like a two year old." You were near tears, the truth of your own statement ringing into the kitchen. Because it was ridiculous, wasn't it? Matt's hearing was incomprehensibly better than yours, and so was his sensitivity to the sun and the cigarette smoke, and yet it didn't seem to touch him at all.

He reached out, and you thought he was going to shut off the faucet, but instead he ran his hand under the water, took the soap, and began to rub at your arm slowly, up and down. You stood still, your own hands dripping, and allowed him to remove whatever snot might still be on your skin. Finally he lowered his fingers, and took a clean washcloth from the cupboard under the sink. Starting with the top of your arm he dried off every last bit of water, working his way downward.

"Last night, out in the suit, I came across a frat party," he said, finally drying off your hands and setting the cloth on the edge of the sink. "Over seventy people were there. And there were roofies being handed out, like hors d'oeuvres, so that the guys could take advantage of whoever they wanted. I went in, shut it down. Went into the bedrooms and stopped a couple of them in the act. But the whole time, they had this heavy metal music blasting, and the house was filled with the smell of weed. It was dusty in there, too. Every breath I drew in, I could taste it, and feel the grit of it."

You remained silent and let him do the talking. His voice was low, pleasant; a welcome distraction from the voices and radio outside.

"It set me off," he continued. "And even afterwards, I could still hear it ringing in my ears, and could still feel the layer of dust on my skin. You know what helped me to snap out of it?" He raised his hand and gently cupped your face. "You."

You vaguely remembered Matt crawling into bed with you the previous night, and pulling you in close, but as far as you remembered, you hadn't even said a word. "Me? But how—?"

"You're my anchor." Matt's hand dropped. "You. When everything is too loud, I listen to your steady inhales and exhales. Your heartbeat. When the scents are too much, all I have to do is breathe in your shampoo and detergent. Your skin, your hair, your body... it's the only thing that I want to always be with. You're always my anchor. And I know you're strong enough to do all this on your own, but if you ever need me to be, I'll be your anchor, too. Just say the word, and we can leave this party. We can stay in all weekend and do nothing but order in takeout and watch movies. We can drive twenty hours north and stay in a remote cottage for a week. And if you need a break from me, I'll take off until you're ready. I'll always be your anchor, always, if you want me to be."

You closed your eyes, your heartbeat slowing; it was as though someone had dialed down the music outside. Matt seemed to notice the relaxing of your posture, because he tilted his head against yours, and breathed, "That's my girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, wrapping your arms tentatively around him. "And I never want a break from you. Never you." At your motion, his own arms embraced you tightly, as though he'd been waiting for the indication that you wanted to hug.

"And something else," Matt said, after you pulled apart. Without looking he reached behind him towards the fruit basket and plucked out two bananas. "I'll pay Mrs. Nelson back for these."

You broke out in a smile and took one of the bananas. "Keep guard so no one walks in on us chowing down alone in here like two bizarre monkeys?"

He leaned against the counter next to you as you peeled the banana. "Always."

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Reader x Frank Castle Headcanons!

I’ve been feeling incredibly AuDHD this week so here are some headcanons for how Matt and Frank would treat their autistic partner :) 

If anyone wants to see drabbles/one-shots with an autistic!reader based on my own experiences, let me know!!

I am certain that both Matt and Frank would be so loving and devoted to their autistic partner. It might take a bit of time to work out some things but they’d be so good to you. 

Something that I really struggle with is expressing romantic love while also having pretty intense sensory issues? I am not touch averse, and usually crave touch, but if I’ve spent too much energy on other things, touch is usually the first thing to overwhelm me. 

If you struggle with touch or being held, or you’re even just having a bad day, Matt and Frank would be so understanding because they, of all people, definitely understand what that’s like. 

While Frank probably has more experience with tactical planning, both a legal and a military background require incredible attention to detail which would come in handy with both setting routines and going over the plan for something. 

My inability to read social cues has led to intense social anxiety, especially where there’s crowds. One way that I prepare for going to events is by creating a detailed plan on my head of how I will get to and leave the event. 

Matt and Frank’s combined attention to detail would be so helpful for talking through what an activity would look like, who would be there, where it was taking place, when you’d need to leave by. 

Because Matt is incredibly social, and incredibly sweet, I think that he would be over the moon to help you bypass your social anxiety at functions. 

He would go out of his way to make you feel comfortable. Whether that means speaking for you if you can’t, or bringing up a topic that you’re interested in so you feel more at ease with a group. 

I think everyone is in agreement (myself included) that Matt would be perfect if you needed help because you were overstimulated. He has heightened senses and experiences that stuff himself, so it wouldn’t be too hard for him to take care of you in that situation. 

But I also think Frank would excel at that. He’s a man of few words and he wouldn’t overwhelm you with questions or suggestions. He would listen to what you needed or what Matt proposed and take action. For example, if you were having a bad sensory day and were on the verge of a meltdown so you couldn’t do the dishes you planned on doing, there’s no doubt Frank would have them done by the time you were ready to socialize again. 

This man would keep a strict inventory of comfy clothes and blankets and fidgets for you, making sure to keep everything relatively orderly so that you had what you needed if you weren’t in the mood to go looking. (Because let’s be honest, some days we are all a lost sock away from a mental breakdown.) 

Another issue that I face is being seen as too honest or blunt? I often overexplain why I am phrasing something the way that I am so it’s not seen as rude or ignorant. 

I think Matt and Frank would really appreciate someone being honest with them, especially Matt. Given that he can tell when people are lying, I think it would be a nice change of pace for him to have a partner who doesn’t really do the whole “white lie” thing. 

I also think expressing the reasoning behind why you’re asking something or saying something a certain way would bring him peace because he knows exactly how to interpret it. This man has self-esteem issues of his own, he doesn’t need open ended or slightly ominous questions to make him spiral. 

Also, I firmly believe that Frank would crack up at some of the stuff that comes out of an unfiltered mouth. I think he would adore how embarrassed you get trying to apologize for being rude because you said something without thinking. He would simply tell you there was no reason to apologize because whatever you said was hilarious. 

anyway, this is heavily based on my own experiences but I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you’d like to see more headcanons and feel free to request.

[hellskitchenette]

Ginger and Lemon I

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Fem!Reader series

Read it on AO3

Chapter I: Pas de Deux

Wordcount: 2,215

Summary: You get overwhelmed one night at Josie's when a creep bothers you and then Saint Matt Murdock appears.

Warnings: Christmas Fluff!!!, Protective Matt Murdock, No use of y/n, no pronouns for reader, Matt Murdock is a Ray of Sunshine, Selective Mutism, Bad self-talk, Self-Hatred, Matt Murdock Gets a Hug, Matt Murdock is a Stalker, Mental Breakdown and Meltdowns!

A/N: I posted this a year ago in my old blog that I deleted accidentally, so here I'm uploading it again. This series gives me an enormous amount of joy and I hope it makes you feel something too!

It was one of their usual nights at Josie’s celebrating the big win they’d just had at court. The case had been particularly draining and the three of them were exhausted, but the adrenaline from finally putting a happy ending to this story dragged them to their usual commemorating rituals. This meant lots of alcohol and Foggy Nelson demonstrating his dancing abilities  early that evening.

Matt was sitting on their habitual spot, with a beer wrapped in his huge hand, his body relaxed against the table. Some funk music was playing through the stereo, and he couldn’t help but tap his dress shoe following the beat. Karen was sitting in front of him, almost on the edge of the seat, observing their friend with a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“Go dance with him, you are dying to do so.” Matt said to the more than-tipsy Karen and after a friendly arm squeeze, she then left the booth giggling. Now they were both making their best funky moves on the dance floor. It’s not like he could see them, but the sound of their clumsy shoes against the floor and their laughter was enough to fill Matt’s heart.

 Unlike Matt Murdock, you weren’t a Josie’s habitual. You weren’t a going-out-at-night habitual at all. But it was your first week in this new job and your team had just proposed that you went out to grab some drinks to know each other. And according to your favourite TikTok creator, who gave tips about workplace social rules, this was almost mandatory for a newbie like you.

So you sighed and followed them with a smile, putting all your efforts into following the conversation, making eye contact, and all of that. At first, it wasn’t that bad; it was still early in the evening and the pub wasn’t too noisy. But with time passing, the patrons started arriving and the place became louder and louder. The smell wasn’t helping either. Paying attention to your colleagues’ conversations was harder every second and their faces started to blur. And you weren’t even drinking alcohol. But this is how sensitive you were. The familiar sensation in your body urging you to leave started to build up in your insides, as well as the itch on your skin in every place the dress touched.

  You knew you should’ve put on something comfy for the long day, but you wanted to impress your colleagues. Or at least, compensating with your fashion style and your lack of social skills.

You couldn’t manage it anymore and looked at your phone before murmuring some excuse about your mom calling, you crossed the packed pub towards the exit. Once you reached the holy exterior, you let out a deep sigh and leaned against the cold, brick wall, trying to control your breath and concentrating on the pain the glacial air was giving you. You closed your eyes, achieving to deescalate a bit of your overwhelmed senses when a fetid tobacco breath reached your delicate nostrils too close to your liking.

 “Hey babe, fancy a smoke?” You opened your eyes deer-like, only to see a middle-aged man offering you a cigar. You were immobile and only could shake your head to decline, and he simply shrugged his shoulders al lighted up his own cigar. But he didn’t leave your side. “C’mon, you’re gonna freeze there by yourself, let’s come inside, I’ll buy you something that’ll warm that pretty body of yours.” He said after some puffs, his drunken gaze pierced into your shape, and then had the audacity to put a hand over your shoulders. All your alarms went on, but you couldn’t speak, and he probably interpreted that as a positive signal to follow with his advances. “Or we could go straight to my place and have you warmed up for good.” He muttered in your ear, getting even closer to say so. You couldn’t even breathe. Your brain was screaming to you to do something, but your muscles were like stone.

“You’re here. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A charming, baritone voice interrupted the man when he was leaning to kiss you, and he turned to look at the owner of that voice. You were so relieved you thought you could die right there. The middle-aged man hesitated and looked at the stranger in disdain.

“What are you doing to my girlfriend, creep?” The mellow voice turned dangerous while the man in front of you took off slowly his sunglasses. The smoker finally pushed aside and murmured something about being sorry and disappeared inside the pub. 

Without the lump of the greasy man, you could finally observe better who you owed one to. Under the light of Josie’s neon, you could notice he was tall and good-looking. His square jaw sported a 5’clock shadow, contrasting with a fine suit. His tie was red and a bit undone, matching in color with the glasses that were still on his hand. He was looking at you with kind, big eyes even though his gaze was a bit unfocused. You recognized him from inside. He was the blind guy who had arrived not so long ago with the tall blonde and the goofy dancer. You were dying to thank him, but your mouth didn’t even open.

“I’m sorry about the girlfriend thing, it looked like the faster way to get that asshole off you.” He excused himself with a cute worried frown. “I hope I didn’t annoy you with that.”

Of course not!!!

But your mouth remained shut and your gaze fixated on the so-interesting tiles of the pavement. Now the nervousness from before was substituted by the one due to the hot blind man talking to you. “It can get overwhelming inside there, isn’t it?” He continued talking, apparently not minding your silence. Your selective mutism disturbed most people, but this guy was speaking to you nonchalantly. You managed to give him a weak agreement noise since a nod was out of the picture. “Well, I should be heading inside before my friends embarrass themselves even more.” He chuckled sweetly and put his glasses on again. Then he grabbed something from his blazer’s pocket and extended it to you. It was a business card, with a neat design and some braille words on it. You grabbed it carefully with your recently manicured fingers and for one second, both of your hands brushed accidentally. His skin was warm and rough. “Keep it in case some guy annoys you again… Though I hope it doesn’t happen.” He said with a tone you couldn’t decipher and then proceeded to read the card.

Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys and Law.

So he was a lawyer. You wanted to thank him, give him your apologies for the trouble, but you couldn’t separate your eyes from the black letters and even less speak. It was maybe from the random act of kindness, the shame you were feeling, or maybe the week had just been too much and on top of that, you were overstimulated. The thing is that when a single tear fell and dampened the immaculate paper surface of the business card, you started sobbing like there was no tomorrow. The itch from the wool dress was now insufferable and you couldn’t help but start to nervously scratch your arms, opening some already healed little wounds. Your face was hot with embarrassment, but you couldn’t help it.

“Hey, hey, come here, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The blind stranger, who until this moment had kept a polite distance between you and him, now was hugging you tightly, tracing soothing circles in your back. Your body, which normally rejected physical contact with anyone outside your inner circle, relaxed in his embrace. The pressure of his strong arms was so comforting that you started feeling more and more grounded. You tried to aisle the sound of his steady heartbeat from Josie’s music and the traffic, and following it you managed to lower your pulse.

Not only he was handsome and gentle, but he smelled so nice too.

 “Are you feeling better?” He asked after some long minutes. He sensed you nod against his tear-drenched shoulder. You separated from him slowly, now calm but feeling awkward as hell.

“I’m glad. Sorry if I uhm...overstepped before.” You shook your head immediately, the hug had been actually very helpful.

“No.” The sound of our own voice felt foreign, but at least you could do monosyllables now. He smiled then, brighter than the sun, which made you recognize a growing warmth in your chest.

“I’ll be going now, would you be OK here?” His face showed concern, an emotion that was difficult for you to detect, but since his face was so expressive you didn’t have a problem.

“Yes.” You managed to get out your throat, although you would have wanted to explain to him that the winter breeze cleared your mind. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the door handle.

“Have a good night then, and try not to freeze out here!” And with the warmest smile, he finally went into Josie’s loud interior. You sighed, hard, and leaned once more against the wall fidgeting with the card. And then your mind started working by itself.

You idiot couldn’t even respond even though he kind of saved you from that creep you’re useless how do you even have a job surely you won’t keep it for more than a month this is why your relationships never work you’re an imbecile...

STOP.

You inhaled the sharp, ice-cold air to stop your rumination and remembered the words your therapist usually said to help you when you entered the spiral. Repeating them like a mantra, finally, your noisy mind started to be quieter and therefore you could think.

Okay, I might not have said thank you but now I have his contact and I could plan how to do it in a proper way. Nothing’s wrong and he seemed nice.

Then you proceeded with a Google search about how the better way was to express gratitude, but after some time became confused and dizzy with the multiple options and decided to ask your best friend, your guardian angel in these situations. Finally, much more calmed and distracted thinking about chocolates, flowers, fruit baskets and gift cards you could manage to go inside, grab your things, and say a proper goodbye to your colleagues before leaving for good. You didn’t see Matt again that night. But what you didn’t know is that  he  would be seeing you though.

Matt noticed from the start you were starting to have a meltdown. It was nothing like he knew you: you were just another stranger that night at Josie’s. But when your body heat and heart rate spiked from nowhere, he got distracted from Karen’s and Foggy’s messy dancing, unable to let someone’s distress pass by. When the sound of your boots disappeared through the main door, he considered if he should follow you or not. It wasn’t like you were his business, maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed or just received awful news. Who knows? But nevertheless, he continued focusing on your trail, discovering you smelled like ginger and lemon, fresh baked goods, and something he could only identify as rosin. But it wasn’t your delicious smell that dragged him out of the comfortable booth. When he heard that man harassing you, he couldn’t help but jump without even grabbing his cane. He knew the state you were in and recognized the voice of the man: one patron who had previously annoyed Karen and other women too.

He’ll later blame the alcohol for the reason for taking such a leap of faith and hugging you. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your attraction to him. But it wasn’t OK, even though it ended up being helpful for your well-being. Giving you his card after being harassed wasn’t his best idea either, especially during a breakdown. Matt even didn’t know why he had done it. He tossed his hair nervously, shivering a bit because of the icy air. That’s when the Daredevil suit was helpful because wandering around Hell’s Kitchen rooftops in his day job suit was going to gain him a cold.

Well, maybe he was being the creep now. But he excused himself remembering how nervous you had been before. He just wanted to make sure you arrived home safe and anyone tried to follow you. 

He chuckled to himself, realizing you had hit replay to the same song again. He recognized the delicate harp followed by the strings. It was the so-emotive  Grand Pas de Deux from The Nutcracker ballet ending. Maybe Matt couldn’t enjoy seeing the dancers’ performance, but he’s a music enjoyer and in the ballet, they’re both as important. But definitely, if he had the opportunity to see you again, he would scold you about walking with headphones on through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. So careless! 

After some time of following you from rooftop to rooftop, it looked like you arrived at your apartment block and Matt decided to end his stalker activities and call it a night. But later, wrapped in his fine silk sheets, the only thing in his mind was you.

Next chapter

[v1rus-l0v3s-c0d]

I need headcanons for frank castle with an autistic s/o

Me and my friend need these headcanons please

Maybe also ones with Matt Murdock x autistic!reader

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! Apologies if this has been discussed, but I wanted to know what you guys think of tagging fics as "[blind, deaf, autistic, disabled, etc] character." As a disabled person myself, sometimes I feel like it marks the character as Different, or reduces them to their disability, when it doesn't need to be a big deal. Other times I want to find fics that have representation, or fics about characters who are like me. I'd love to hear more thoughts on this.

Hi!

In my opinion it's perfectly fine. To me, it's similar to how you would tag a queer work of fanfiction as "A x B" - it's so that readers can find what interests them, not because the queerness is the only thing that those characters have to offer. I care much more about what's in the actual story; if the character is treated well there, then I'm definitely not going to care about how the tag was worded - I would just be glad that it helped me find the story in the first place.

One thing, that's almost only relevant to Tumblr, is to not use the actual "paraplegic", "cane user", "autistic" etc. tags for fanfiction. That's because it clogs up the tags for actual disabled people, a lot of which aren't a fan of this practice. This obviously doesn't apply to sites like ao3, or if you're using the "[disability] character" tag. More of a technical thing, but important nonetheless.

That's just my view on it - I hope it makes sense!

mod Sasza

Hello!

Seconding Mod Sasza but I just want to add my two cents in, specifically around fandoms with canonically disabled characters.

Something I see a lot is the tag on Ao3 specifying the character's disability. To use Daredevil as an example here, I see a lot of fics tagged with #blind matt murdock.

This tag generally means that the fic is focusing on/talking about his blindness in some way, not necessarily that he isn't blind in other fics.

I personally find this tag pretty useful since it helps to find fics where the character's disability is a big part of the fic/the focus of it. The main thing with a lot of tagging systems is that it's for organization, not necessarily to "sell" people on the fic (For lack of a better term).

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[korieonthemoon]

Introduction!!!

My name is korie and I'm an autistic dumbass with even dumber hyperfixations.

I write fanfics :)

I will write for:

.the boys

- Billy butcher

- queen maeve

- starlight

- mothers milk

- frenchie

- homelander

- hughie cambell (maybe)

-black noir

- kimiko

. Marvel

- Bruce banner

- natasha romanoff

- otto octavius (rami verse)

- pretty much every x men character

- hobie brown

- gwen stacy

- matt murdock

- foggy Nelson

- insomniac Peter parker

- insomniac Harry Osborn

.ghostbusters

- egon spengler

- Ray stantz

Idk that's pretty much it

Suggest whoever BUT I may not write it depends on the character (don't be sad I just probably have never simped for them in my life)

Please note what gender you want the fanfic to be about or i will just write it about me (afab)!!!

Expect lots of grammar and spelling mistakes, don't complain I'm too dyslexic for it.

Will write :

✅️family+pregnancy (Not kinky)

✅️bondage

✅️impact play

✅️plus size reader

✅️disabled reader

✅️poc

🤷maybe some mental illnesses depends on how triggering it is for me and my experiences

Will not write:

❌️no underage characters unless in cute family friendly fics

❌️no noncon/r@pe

❌️no abuse or SA references even in past relationships as these are triggering for me

I think that's it, if there's a kink you want but I won't do it don't be upset I'm just not into it!

Have a nice day :)

[pagesfromthevoid]

The AI Generated Matt Murdock x reader fic:

@polyglot-noodle @acutely-autistic

As a blind lawyer, Matt Murdock had never expected to find love. But when he met you, he knew that his life was about to change forever.

You were a paralegal at the law firm where Matt worked, and he was immediately drawn to you. Your voice was like music to his ears, and he found himself looking forward to every conversation that they had.

As they worked together on cases, Matt began to realize that his feelings for you were more than just a passing fancy. He was falling in love with you, and he didn't know how to tell you.

One day, after a particularly long day at work, you found yourself alone in the office with Matt. You could tell that he was distracted, and you asked him what was wrong.

Matt hesitated for a moment, and then he took a deep breath.

"I have to tell you something," he said. "I'm not just a lawyer. I'm also a vigilante."

You were shocked, but you also knew that there was something special about Matt. You listened as he explained how he fought crime at night as Daredevil, and how he struggled to balance his two identities.

As Matt finished talking, you took his hand in yours. You didn't care that he was a vigilante - you loved him for who he was.

"Matt, I don't care what you do at night. I love you, and I want to be with you."

Matt felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had been so afraid that you would reject him, but you had accepted him for who he was.

And with that, Matt Murdock knew that he had found the love of his life. Together, they would face any challenge that came their way, both in and out of the courtroom.

[chaithetics]

Fics for Palestine Masterlist

The 'fics for Palestine' masterlist! Here's more information on the 'Fics for Palestine' initiative!

Where to Put My Hands - Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader!

Sweeter than Honey - Matt Murdock (Daredevil) x plus size f (afab) reader

A Purrfect Edition - Matt Murdock (Daredevil) x autistic plus size f reader

[brianwashere]

I posted 1,313 times in 2022

That's 1,313 more posts than 2021!

125 posts created (10%)

1,188 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sunsyfish

@auntvamp

@meantforinfinitesadness

@pukicho

@melonsharks

I tagged 129 of my posts in 2022

#brian’s untagged thoughts - 31 posts

#fanfic - 31 posts

#fanfic writing - 28 posts

#marvel - 26 posts

#matt murdock - 18 posts

#daredevil - 17 posts

#matt murdock x reader - 14 posts

#marvel x male reader - 14 posts

#male reader - 13 posts

#daredevil x reader - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 72 characters

#you may call me crazy now but when it comes true you’ll call me a profit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Dawg Istg this took so long like—agh. But it’s done and the idea is out of my head now.

I’m actually really proud of it please like it

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

Pairing: batfam x poc!son!reader

Genre: found family and a lil sprinkle of angst but it ends up alright

Summary: Alrighty what do people thing about a one shot with a teen poc male reader ( older than Damian but younger than Tim ) and the Batfam. It’s the reader’s first time it this large fancy private school and they keep getting bullied for their ethnicity. By the end of the day a group of bullies writes in sharpie “go back to where you came from” and the reader doesn’t do anything for a few weeks but then on of the batbros finds out and they get super mad. Confrontation then it’s got a happy ending and stuff.

Tw: racism, no slur use but degrading comments about race, bullying

Maybe I’ll stick around

You didn’t know what to expect when Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, adopted you. You’d lived years on the street and ran away from all of your foster homes at least once.

You definitely weren’t expecting him to put you in the same high class snobby rich kid school as his two youngest sons. When you asked why you were going to a “rich bitch school” he told you that you were his son now and that meant you didn’t get any different treatment than his own kids.

What a bunch of bullshit. You’re obviously just a charity case. You saw the article in the paper the day after you were officially adopted.

“Bruce Wayne adopts immigrant teenage boy”

You weren’t an immigrant.

You hated the media. Whatever. Soon he’s gunna realize how “troubled” you are and send you back to another home. You’ll run away from there too. You’ll run until they catch and deport you because, apparently, you’re an immigrant.

Your first day of school started out relatively normal. You tried to sleep in but Dick was still staying over and dragged you out of bed. That left you no choice but to get dressed into your uniform. Alfred had cooked you breakfast but you didn’t want any then he drove you, Damian, and Tim to school.

Tim looked like hell. Literal hell. His hair looked like it had never seen a hairbrush and the bags under his eyes could make Louis Vuitton jealous.

See the full post

380 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

#4

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

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

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

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

Genre: slight angst but ends with comfort

Summary: go to req

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

All Too Much

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every possible sense was immediately flooded with too much information.

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

See the full post

381 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#3

Hello there, simps. I am here to give you ✨smut✨. I actually wasn’t really planning on posting this but then my lovely friend encouraged me to…so here we are—

**i do not own any franchise or characters from Daredevil**

Shameless teasing

Pairing: Bottom!Matt Murdock x top!m!reader

Warnings: smut, top reader, m!reader

Smut under the cut!!!

◈𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 ◈

You. You. You. That’s the only thing Matt can think of. You stretching him out with two fingers as he clenches. He’s already rock hard just from some foreplay.

He whimpers as you barely brush his prostate. God, he wanted to scream. He wanted to make the most sinful noises in hopes of pleasing you.

“God, please—I just—“ Matt was interrupted by a moan when you hit his prostate again, that drove him over the edge “PLEASE JUST FUCK ME ALREADY—please please please please please.”

“Aw baby, who am I to deny such a humble request?” You replied cooly.

You pulled your fingers out of him slowly, deliberately. He let out another small whimper; it was pathetic and high pitched. You’re heart curled with something—arousal. You rested your tip on his rim.

“Ready, baby cakes?”

“Yes, daddy.” He breathed out.

You pushed into him gently until you bottomed out.

“Tell me when.” You said as you massaged his thighs tenderly.

“Now. Please—God, now…” he was so desperate.

You pulled out and slammed into him with so much force he was knocked from his elbows to flat on his face. He didn’t have the energy to get up.

See the full post

427 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

#2

Okie dokie here I am again. Another batbro reader insert lol. I wrote this cause I wanted to write and also cause I looked at how MASSIVE the Wayne manor is.

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

Pairing: Damian Wayne x older!brother!reader

Genre: found family fluff stuff

Summary: Damian noticed his older brother gets anxious around people so he decided to show him a secret

Trigger warnings: mentions of social anxiety and being overwhelmed

A Small Secret

Damian sighed with feigned annoyance as he dragged you by the hand through the halls of Wayne Manor.

“You really are just as stupid as I thought you were.” He lied.

“Yeah yeah talk it up Mr. ‘I don’t know how to work Snapchat.’” You mocked.

Damian scoffed but remained quiet.

Victory.

“You said you get anxious and overwhelmed when a lot of people come over, even if you know them.” Damian stated.

“Yes I…did.” You were confused how that played into him dragging you to a far wing of the manor.

When you got to a bookshelf he stopped.

“Wow. A bookshelf. Congratulations Damian, I think you found the cure to my social anxiety.” Sarcasm dripped from your words.

“It’s not just a bookshelf.” He said as he pulled a book from the shelf.

The book shelf opened on its hinges and revealed a small cozy library.

“What? This is…” You trailed off.

See the full post

512 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Imagine

Puppy eyes

Ok so I was watching Daredevil and realized how frikin different Matt looked with and without his glasses. With glasses he’s a super cool handsome bastard and without them he’s just this puppy lookin dude.

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

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, pure light hearted stuff

Tw: none really, beginning of a make out session but not too much detail about it. Sorta implied sexual content(???)

Imagine you and Matt just starting out in a relationship and your having your first make out session at his place. You take his glasses off and you realize it’s the first time you’ve seen him with no glasses. You just sort of stare at his puppy face for a second. He gets really confused ( and worried ) though because he can hear your heartbeat increase. When he asks you what’s wrong you just sort of giggle and cup his face in your hands and whisper “you look like a puppy” to which he blushes and laughs the purest laugh you’ve ever heard

It was dark outside. You were sitting on Matt’s lap, gently kissing him. You shifted and he groaned slightly. You pulled away, gasping for breath.

“You might wanna take these off.” You chuckled and reached for his red lenses.

He closed his eyes when you pulled them off. You folded them and reached to set them on the small table beside the couch. You returned and cupped his face before realizing something and stopping.

You stared at him with wide eyes. Gently tracing his jaw absentmindedly. His eyes were looking off to the side and his face knit together into a look of worry.

“Is…everything ok?” He asked quietly. The concern was evident in his tone.

“Yeah, yeah…everything is fantastic it’s just—I’ve never seen your eyes before…” You continue to look at the beautiful color of them.

“You look like a puppy” You whispered in a giggle.

His face recoils a bit and his eyes widen before it relaxes and he laughs. Such a sweet and beautiful laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind whenever I need to beg for something from you.” He chuckles. “Ok ok, let’s get back to it.”

“Whatever you want, Puppy.”

903 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ellephlox]

i have autism and have been having a tough time coping recently :( i was wondering if you could do a matt x reader hurt/comfort having to do with overstimulation and social anxiety from everyday life interactions? like matt helps reader with the anxiety from being unable to hold eye contact or helps with learning to tone down overloading senses? i love your work!

This is an awesome idea!! I'm on the spectrum myself and I've been wanting to do a short piece like this for awhile. It's been awhile since I've written, due to how busy I've been this summer, but your prompt has inspired me to start writing! Hopefully I'll post it by the end of this week. Sneak peek at what I'm going to include:

Overstimulation with loud laughter, hot sunshine, bad smells

Addressing reader's anxieties about being high-maintenance due to overstimulation

Having to break inner "rules" e.g. eating at a particular time of day

Thank you SO much for the request!!

[mossy-stars]

Struggle together - Chapter 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Autistic! (fem) Reader Summary: Reader meets Matt in quite an akward way, still she left an impression on him. Warnings: Awkardness and teasing? So not much. Words: 806

You just finished your cup of coffee to get some energy in your body, you stand up from the chair in the local cafe and head over to the streets. You open the door and a little chime goes off.

Out of all the noises in the cafe this was the least annoying one. The people talking are the most annoying but there’s one thing that tops that, Babies. Luckily you didn’t encounter even a single one of them today. That makes your day a bit better.

It might sound crazy, like why don’t you like babies?! Well they could be okay.. If they just didn’t cry, yell and make so much noise.

While being distracted from your baby hating thoughts you’re already walking down the street in hell's kitchen to head home.

The streets and especially the cars are overwhelming, so you put in your earbuds and listen to some music. Grabbing your phone and plugging the earbuds in you hit shuffle on your favorite playlist. It’s basically a playlist of a lot of soft rock and indie songs.

Bopping your head on the tune and beat you are totally in your zone and you don’t notice the blind man walking straight towards you.

But when you do notice just on time you step aside. Only to be greeted again with him because he apparently thought the same thing.

How did he know that you were about to crash into him? I guess you’ll never know because right now you bump into him. Hard.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You panic. You pause your music real quick and rip the earbuds out of your ears.

“Don’t worry, it's okay.” the man replied. He brushed some dust off his suit from falling to the ground. You stress and keep apologizing for about 4 more times-

“Sweetheart, I already told you it’s okay.” he then said. You look up at him and he smiles.

“Although it’s totally wrong of you to not give a blind man some space..” He teases with a grin.

You look shocked at him not getting the hint that he’s teasing you. He immediately stops grinning and says,

“Sorry that was a joke!” he chuckles nervously, scared that he might have hurted you.

“Oh yeah, sorry I have autism so I can’t tell someone's intention with their words sometimes..” You say honestly

“Ah I see. Also, do you maybe wanna grab a coffee sometime?” he says. “You seem nice.”

“Only if I know your name, mister blind man.” You tease back. You both giggle.

“Matthew Murdock, please call me Matt though, otherwise you feel like a mom.” He laughs.

“Y/n Baker, pleasure to meet you Murdock” You smile.

“I just asked you to call me just Matt and you call me Murdock?” He tutted. “That was half of a joke by the way.” he laughs again.

Somehow you feel safe with the man you just met two minutes ago.. He’s just so nice, how could you not?

He notices that you are in your thoughts and breaks the silence.

“Could I have your number? We can have contact then” He asks and smiles. Straightening his red sunglasses.

“Yes of course!” You say, but curious about how Matt would insert it in his phone.

He senses the doubt and grabs his phone out.

“Insert new contact” He says into his phone.

The phone automatically opens the contacts app and makes a new one, it asks what the name should be and he says your name.

You swear you just felt your heartbeat fasten a bit when he said your name.

The phone then asks for the phone number and Matt holds his phone closer to you and you take that as a sign to say your number.

“Great, thanks!” he then says, putting his phone away in the pocket of his suit again. You two stay silent for a moment switching from looking to the ground and each other's eyes. After a second he awkwardly says he has to go to work. You exchange your goodbyes and go on walking home.

---

Matt heads to his work, at work he’s quieter than normal. So Foggy has to say something about it.

“Hey man, are you okay? You seem off..” He asks. Matt takes a deep breath and looks up, breaking out of his thoughts.

“Mhm, oh yeah I’m fine!” He nods.

Foggy knows Matt long enough to know that he’s lying. Then Foggy realises it’s most probably a girl he’s thinking of.

“Who is she?” Foggy grins. Matt looks up shocked at him.

“How did you-” Matt looks confused but continues, “Yeah it is, but I just met her so it’s not that important yet.” Foggy raises his eyebrows.

“Love at first sight.. Okay, noted!” And walks away leaving Matt stunned by his friend's words.

[hellskitchenette]

Ginger and Lemon II

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Fem!Reader series

Read it on AO3

Chapter II: Madame Butterfly

Summary: You overthink a lot about how to thank the sexy lawyer for his intervention at Josie's and end up baking a cake. How would he react when you appear in his firm's door?

Word count: 2,729

Warnings: Christmas Fluff!!!, Protective Matt Murdock, No use of y/n, no pronouns for reader, Matt Murdock is a Ray of Sunshine, Selective Mutism, Bad self-talk, Self-Hatred, Matt Murdock Gets a Hug, Matt Murdock is a Stalker, Mental Breakdown and Meltdowns!

A/N: More fluf for y’all! Annoying bestie is introduced here, the extrovert every introvert needs in their life. As a neurodivergent person, this is a love letter to the nice neurotypical s in my life that help me navigate this confusing world. anyways, hope you enjoy this! Was already up on AO3, but I figured I should update here too.

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“Are you blind?” He is totally into you!” Your best friend grabbed some chips from the bag making loud crunching noises.

“Actually, the one who's visually impaired is him, Cece.” You responded squeezing your eyes because of the annoying sound.

“What? A disabled guy?” She left her snack to grab your wrist with her greasy hand. “Is this another complex saviour crush? And be honest.” Cece was now staring at you seriously.

“No, I really like him.” You moved uncomfortably on the sofa while blushing. Cece had come over to have dinner a watch a movie, but the recent events were now more interesting than some Netflix Period Drama. “Besides, he was the one saving me, remember?” Your friend hummed and relaxed a bit against the back of the couch. She went feral about the possibility of someone taking advantage of you again.

“So this Mr Murdock seems like a true gentleman,” Cece said with an all-knowing smirk on her face. She really had an understanding of your taste in men. And that involved some old-fashioned chivalry straight from a Jane Austen novel.

“He truly seems like one.” And you blushed again remembering a cinematic low-motion version of the moment your hands touched.” What do you think then? What would be appropriate to thank him?” You fidgeted with your chopsticks in the half-empty bowl. Normally you’d enjoy your usual Thai food order, but your stomach today was just against food. Cece crossed her long legs and smirked suggestively, raising one of her curved brows.

“It depends on your intentions with him.” She said, and you bit your lip agitated.

“My intentions? I just want to thank him for his kindness.” You explained, mortified by the fact you couldn’t even say more than a monosyllable when he helped you so much.

“You sure darling? Or it’s because you want to stay in touch, and this is an excuse to contact him?” You shivered at the idea of seeing each other again, that was certain. Sometimes Cece was better at reading your feelings than you. And maybe this was one of those times.

“May...maybe.” You admitted quietly. “He said I could contact his law firm if needed, “You said optimistically, raising your gaze first time since this conversation had started. Cece rolled her eyes.

“I know you’re capable of suing someone just to have an excuse to see him.” You opened your mouth to protest but she continued her banter. “But this is not a legal drama, and you are already grown up enough to go head-on, so if you want to see him, suck it up and go.”

Her direct words made your heartbeat spike like crazy, and the chopsticks you’d been playing with slipped from your hands, landing on the carpet along with some noodles. You sighed, picking them from the floor. They looked like little worms in the grass. Just how you felt. Accepting you weren’t going to eat more; you went to the little kitchenette to leave the bowl and throw the “worms”. Cece followed you, munching her chips like a desperate woman when something caught her attention, making a high-pitched noise. She struggled to swallow before she could talk.

“You should bake him something!” She said pointing to the bell jar over the counter where you kept your last baking experiment: a deliciously looking plum cake. Then without asking for permission, she removed the glass bell to cut two thick slices and served them in your beautiful dessert dishes. “He’ll fall in love immediately.” Her affirmation was done while she took a good bite of the plum cake. To be honest, this was a recipe you were proud of. There weren’t a lot of things you liked about yourself. Your awkwardness made your life very difficult, social interactions were like a puzzle to you and you knew that sometimes you made people uncomfortable around you. Especially when selective mutism hit or when you spoke in an inadequate moment or tone. It was like every second spent around people you had to be hyper-aware about everything you did. And it was exhausting.

Cece helped a lot with it. She didn’t care about your quirks and was always honest, an attribute you thanked her immensely for. You were used to everyone being dishonest or having second intentions you couldn’t figure out. She was a relief from society. Her help was handy in moments like this when you needed help with some conventions that weren’t familiar to you.

So, the decision to bake a home-cooked treat was made and you started looking through your huge collection of recipe books with Cece’s patient help, who listened to all the baking facts you loved to chat about when you were in the mood. After discarding some sweets because of being too complicated— Cece commented you’d look like a try-hard—, both of you finally chose the Lemon Ginger Tart, since the fruit was an inoffensive flavour and Christmas was just around the corner. And maybe you could make extra dough and bring some Gingerbread cookies too. It was late when your dear friend’s cab arrived and you slipped inside your bed, incapable of sleeping because of your excitement.

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After the morning rehearsal, you planned to go straight to Nelson and Murdock and deliver your precious cargo. The theatre was close and doing it as soon as possible will save you a lot of overthinking. Your colleagues were surprised by the fragrant package you were bringing, and some questions were inevitably asked about the topic. After all, you were one of the most reserved members of the orchestra and even though you were friendly with everyone, nobody knew really about your life outside the concert hall.

” So you remembered my birthday, how nice of you.” Your gaze met the smug face of the cocky first violin, who was resting lazily against the dressing room’s door. Even you had noticed that the man had your eyes on you for a long time since he was nothing but subtle. You panicked when all eyes were suddenly on you and your mysterious cake. It was Monday morning, and everyone was up to some gossiping. Especially if that was around the most secretive member of the orchestra.

“I…I mean…happy…eh…birthday…” you didn’t know how to tell him the cake wasn’t because of him, and you were unable to meet his eyes.

“Harvey, stop messing with her.” The harpist interrupted your nonsense, aware that he was making you uncomfortable. “It’s not actually his birthday honey, ignore him.” And she squeezed gently your shoulder and smiled friendly way that warmed your heart. Harvey rolled his eyes and then resumed preparing his violin for the rehearsal.

Second time in a few days that someone else has had to step up for you, perfect.

As your brain was ready to engage in some bad self-talk, you had to make your cello ready for playing too, so after securing the tart in the shelf, you let your instrument out of its hard case and every other thing became unimportant. With your instrument in your hands, you were in your domain, one where words were futile and only the language of music spoke. Once you were comfortable with. One that didn’t let you down.

The rehearsal went well, and everyone left in a good mood. The premiere of the first Nutcracker of the season was going to be a success, and you were expectant Friday to arrive. Even though you have been doing this every winter, it was such a special moment of the year. This ballet was so close to your heart and transported you directly to your childhood.

“Hey, some of us are going to have hot cocoa since we finished earlier today, are you in?”

The harpist’s voice interrupted your thoughts while you were finishing gathering up your stuff. You looked anxiously to the tart waiting on the shelve. You’d managed to find a beautiful Christmas box to protect it that had holly and gingerbread houses printed on it. Your gaze returned to her, trying to focus on an answer. Your therapist had said you had to step out of your comfort zone but going out with your colleagues and your little expedition to Nelson and Murdock maybe was too much for starting.

“Oh, I understand you had plans.” She had an all-knowing smile on her face now, and her voice was sweet. “Next time then!” She was about to leave when you gathered the courage to speak.

“Hey, thank you for… for before and… for inviting me too.” You couldn’t meet her gaze when she turned but used the trick of looking between her brows and it worked.

“It’s nothing! But we’d love it if you could join us sometime.” She smiled again and you nodded in a silent promise and then you parted ways.

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Nelson and Murdock were just some blocks away and you were lost in thought while listening to your favourite opera podcast, tart in hand and the cello in your back. Becky— that was the name of the harpist if you weren’t wrong, even though you didn’t rely on a lot in your face recognition abilities— looked genuinely interested in you joined them that morning and although that made you happy, it raised some buried memories about your time in high school when the people you considered your friends were actually making fun of you. Your weirdness caught the attention of the bullies like a lighthouse, so your strategy since then was to limit the number of interactions.

But this is not high school, we’re adults now and someone is genuinely being nice for once.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the other person turning the corner at the same time as you and after you could do anything, your face was plastered against some stranger’s chest, making your headphones fly in the process.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” Your nose stung and you were so preoccupied that the tart wasn’t damaged by the hit you didn’t notice whose chest was. And you couldn’t locate your headphones either. There were a lot of people and that added to your embarrassment was making you dizzy.

“You’re gonna need a good lawyer to defend you because I’m suing you for this attack lady.” The familiar low voice was like honey over your nervousness, and you finally looked at his face. “It’s your lucky day though, I know a damn good one not far from here…” Matt Murdock was standing in front of you in all his glory, an irresistible smile curving his lips, both hands in his cane.

“Matt!” You were sure you were looking dumb grabbing the tart as if your life depended on it, caught completely off guard by the encounter.

He was supposed to be in his office, what do I do now?

Let’s say you weren’t the best when dealing with unexpected events.

“Yes, I think that’s his name and…” Matt tilted his head to his right pausing for a moment, and then squatted picking something from the floor. “ Madame Butterfly, an interesting opera choice.” He had your missing headphones in his hand when he stood straight again. You grabbed them from his large hand, brushing involuntarily your skin with his like when he extended you his business card the other night and managed to turn off the device.

“I know is not the public’s favourite from Puccini, but I feel it’s so moving especially when Butterfly sacrifices herself so her child can have a better life…” Probably it was the longest phrase you said to Matt, but you got carried away when you talked about music.

“It’s a beautiful opera, but maybe she should have considered her son’s opinion on the matter.” You noticed his expression turning darker for a moment and you wondered if you said something wrong, but it was gone in a blink and his gentle manner was back. “Excuse me for deviating from the theme, but something smelling delicious caught my attention.”

He then sniffed like a bloodhound, and you giggled, relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, about this, it’s actually…” You didn’t know how to start since your carefully planned speech was now useless.

“It’s ginger and lemon, isn’t it?” And he smiled wider. “Really Christmas flavoured.”

“You want a slice? In exchange for…running over you.” You didn’t know where you found the courage to say that, but maybe it was easier this way.

“Are you trying to bribe me, so I don’t present charges? Because it’s working.” And then he smiled charmingly.

Holy shit you’ll bake whatever this man wanted just to see that smile.

Maybe it was his soothing voice, the fact that you didn’t have to worry about looking him in the eyes, or the way he made you feel seen , as contradictory as it was, but the fact was that you were somewhere near comfortable around Matt Murdock. So when he noticed you were freezing and offered that you went upstairs to have a drink that warmed you up, you accepted gladly.

“Is that cake?” A blonde head appeared from one of the doors of the office the moment you both stepped inside.

“I thought we weren’t accepting more payments done with food Matt…” Another blonde appeared, this time a beautiful woman. She was frowning until she noticed you.

“Relax guys, she’s not a client and the cake is not yours to take Foggy, it’s hers.” The other man looked devastated by the notice, and the woman’s face became welcoming, a question floating in the air. “These are Foggy, then another half of Nelson and Murdock and Karen, our secretary.” Matt presented you to them and you shook shyly your hand while he folded his cane and went to prepare some warm beverages.

“Actually…” You put the box containing the tart on the table that looked like was used to eat. “It’s Matt’s tart, so you can eat if he’s okay with that.” You blushed visibly while Foggy’s eyes illuminated and Karen raised her eyebrows impossibly, looking at Matt and then at you. The lawyer returned from the little kitchenette with two smoking hot mugs. He looked interrogating too. “For the other day… the bar…”

“You didn’t have to.” A wide smile formed on his lips while he handed you the latte he had prepared for you. Foggy and Karen exchanged significant looks while you wrapped your hands around it, warming you up instantly. You fixed your gaze on it, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t treat me like this, so this means I can have cake or not?” Foggy’s pained complaint made all of you laugh and broke the tension that had been building up in your stomach.

The four of you ended up enjoying the tart together along with the biscuits you baked. You were afraid of being an intruder, but Karen and Foggy were as warm and welcoming as Matt. You ended up having a great time and when it was your time to part, they made you promise to visit again. Matt grabbed your cello chivalrously and walked you to the door.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a concert.” He commented while he helped you to put your instrument on your back.

“Well, New York is a city with an extensive cultural offering and…” He laughed heartfully and you didn’t understand why.

“What I mean is that I’d love to hear you play.” And his voice was like velvet when he said that.

Oh.

“Yeah… of course… I…” Your brain stopped functioning for a moment, but it rebooted, and you started to search in your bag. “This Friday is the first nutcracker of the season, maybe you can’t enjoy the dancing, but the music is beautiful…” You said nervously while you gave him the spare tickets the orchestra always gifted their musicians — and which you never used because of your lack of social life.

“I’m sure I’ll find my way of enjoying myself.” And the way he said it melted your bones while he grabbed the three tickets. “See you on Friday then.” He added and after smiling brighter than the sun, he returned upstairs. You started walking towards the bus stop, still processing everything.

It looks like this Friday is going to be the best performance of my life.

[pinkladiesrise]

Ok ok hear me out

As someone who didnt realise they were AuDHD til their late 20s and is just now coming to understand how life changing loop earplugs/ noise cancelling headphones or sunglasses can be for over stimulating situations and tye importance of decompressing and how all the assorted consequences of over stimulation arent just shit I have to put up with...

Matt Murdock

Horrifically overstimulated Matt Murdock

With an autistic friend who knows everything about DD

Who buys him the pressure swing hammock thing. And headphones. And fidgits? And teaches him sensory overload things and *sighs*

Like I know being cut off completely when he already cant see, and is at risk cause of his extra curricular activities, and needs the high alert senses and maybe its a bad idea, blah blah but...

Imagine just being like 'sit here, heres my hand, put these on- the 1st time you'll probably cry, its all good and I'll let go of your hand/ tap you if you need to come back down to earth' and changing his life

Cause youre more likely to survive being in the ocean if youre not already exhaused and you know how to swim, rather than trying to learn after being dropped out there, just fucking rest Matt

Just imagine being his giving him a safe space 😍😍

Just me? Also if you write fanfic feel free to steal some/ all/ any, if its on here or ao3 I'm gonna find it 🤣❤