#father matt murdock x reader

[bi-n-evil]

Me seeing a fictional character be portrayed as a dom/top when they're literally such a sub/bottom:

[spnjediavenger]

I Need My Brother (Chapter 5)

Title: I Need My Brother (Chapter 5)

Type: multi-chapter; matt murdock x sister!reader

Warnings: canon-typical Daredevil situations/injuries, blood, angst, sibling argument

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: none

Spoilers: S1 SPOILERS

Notes: As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 1531

Need to catch up? 

(Chp 1) (Chp 2) (Chp 3) (Chp 4) (Chp 4.5)

“Y/n, I can get it myself, don’t worry about it,” Matt said, gently pushing his sister’s hands away. 

Y/n had been dressing Matt’s wounds and redoing any stitches he popped by doing things he shouldn’t be. He appreciated her willingness to help but fixing her brother’s wounds wasn’t something she should have to do - something he’s explained to her many times at this point.

“Matt, I can do it, don’t worry about it,” she mocked monotonously, going back to work.

“But you don’t need to. I’ve done this for long enough. I’d be a bad brother if I had you do it.” He poked at her stomach, earning a yelp.

“Dohon’t do that when I have a needle in my hand, jerk,” Y/n said, unable to help giggling at the feeling. But she shook her head and grew serious again.

“You already-...” Matt thought about his words carefully. “You already have been having a hard time with…all of this.”

“Matt, please!”

Not expecting her to yell, the older Murdock flinched.

Y/n looked away for a moment to compose herself before looking back to Matt’s blind gaze. “I’m…I’m sorry…Just, please,” she whispered. “It…It helps when I can do something. Patching-Patching you up helps me feel some semblance of control…It helps ground me in the fact that you’re still here…”

Matt paused for a moment and sighed. He had a feeling this conversation was coming. “You’re still having nightmares, aren’t you?

Y/n bowed her head.

Matt sensed this and hooked a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up. “Y/n, why didn’t you tell me?”

The girl sighed. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she whispered before sniffing and composing herself, sitting up straighter. “And I can handle it. You need to focus on resting and healing.”

Matt leaned forward, suppressing a grunt. “I can’t focus on resting unless my sister,” he poked her nose, “is able to rest.”

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. Y/n sighed.

“I can’t. I won’t be able to.”

“Then start bunking with me. Like when you were little.”

“You don’t get it, you don’t get it, Matt!” she yelled, standing suddenly. “I can’t rest because every time I close my eyes I see you bloody and dying on the living room floor! And if I can get past that and fall asleep - I dream of that night over, and over, and over again!” Her voice began shaking. “When I’m awake - I have to deal with the anxiety and fear of knowing this wasn’t the first and I know it won’t be the last time something like this happens. I have to deal with the anxiety and fear that one day my big brother is going to die doing this and there is nothing I can do to stop that!”

“Ok ok ok, please calm down, bug. I don’t want you to have another panic attack. I didn’t mean to set you off,” Matt apologized, grabbing her hands to hold tight.

Y/n ripped her hands out of his and backed away sharply; she took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff of air. She looked back to Matt. “You promised, Matt. You promised you would be more careful.”

“I know. I’m sorry.“

“Stop saying that!” she yelled. “Just stop! Stop saying you know! And stop apologizing when you don’t mean it!”

Matt went to stand, suppressing another grunt. “Y/n, I do mean it.”

Y/n shook her head. “No you don’t,” she said hotly, angry tears in her eyes. “If you did, you would change. You would do something to make it right. So until you do that you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your apologies seriously because you clearly don’t.” With that, Y/n spun on her heel and stormed off to her room, forgetting about her previous insistence on cleaning Matt’s wounds. 

Even though he knew it was coming, Matt flinched when her bedroom door slammed shut. He sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day and pinched the bridge of his nose. Back when this whole thing started - with Y/n storming out of his office, Foggy told Matt he had a hell of a mess to clean up…now Matt couldn’t help but think that was still accurate. Or maybe the mess had never truly been cleaned up in the first place. 

Matt walked stiffly down the aisle of Clinton Church, sliding his walking cane as if he needed it. He slowed his steps and listened.

Steady heartbeat up to the left. Wooden cross tapping against fabric. Father Lantom was sitting in the pew five rows up from where Matt was standing and turned around to see him walking in.

Matt kept walking until he stood next to the father’s pew. Father Lantom turned further to look at him.

“Matthew,” he greeted, looking him up and down. “Do I want to know what happened?”

Instead of answering him, Matt asked, “Got time for another latte, father?”

Matt and Fr. Lantom sat in the break area of the church, lattes in their hands, though Matt’s remained full. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Fr. Lantom realized a push would be necessary.

“You didn’t come just for a two-star latte, did you, Matthew?”

Matt scoffed a bit through his nose. “That obvious, huh?”

“I hope you’re not here about another person you’re thinking of killing.”

“No, no, I promise it’s not…Father, did I uh…did I ever mention my sister?”

Fr. Lantom paused for a moment, wondering where Matt was going with this. “I know you have one. And that she was raised in the orphanage with you. I know things the nuns have told me. But the only things you’ve ever shared with me have been inside confessionals about your…nightly activities.”

Matt’s heart dropped a bit. He never stopped to think about how he only ever talked to Fr. Lantom from his vigilante perspective. He knew he mentioned his father before. He couldn’t believe he never mentioned Y/n.

“That upsets you,” Fr. Lantom noted.

“She’s everything to me,” Matt said. “Clearly I uh…I haven’t done a good job of showing it…to you or her…” he continued, bowing his head. The father waited patiently for him to continue. Matt swirled his now-lukewarm latte around in its paper cup. “I’ve hurt her…it seems like I can’t stop…and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Does she know your secret?”

“Yes. She did from the beginning. Not my choice. But I didn’t realize how good she had gotten at tricking my senses when she was younger. And even then she knew me too well for me to be able to lie to her.”

“Smart kid. Seems to run in the family.”

Matt chuckled. “As far as the kids go, anyway. That’s why our dad didn’t want us to end up like him. Knew we had the brains not to.”

Fr. Lantom smiled a bit before getting serious again. “You said you hurt her. What do you mean?”

“Everytime I come home, battered and bruised, I know it upsets her. But lately I’ve had more…dances with death than either of us would like.”

“It’s natural to worry for those we care about. I’d be concerned if she wasn’t upset by those things.”

“I know. But I made her a promise that I’d be more careful. And I want to keep it but…”

“You don’t know if you can.”

Matt nodded. 

“So are you looking to quit your duties?”

“No,” Matt said without a single thought. 

“Alright…Are you going to send her away?”

“No, of course not.”

“Involve her?”

“No.”

Fr. Lantom paused for a moment, analyzing the man before him. “Then what is it you want, Matthew?”

Matt sighed through his nose and turned his head down. “I don’t know.”

“You do know that there will never be peace with this situation? You’re never going to stop being a vigilante. And she’s never going to stop worrying about you.”

“I guess I’ve just been trying to convince myself and her that I’d be able to catch Fisk easier and at least be able to slow down.”

Fr. Lantom thought for a moment then clasped his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “I don’t think you came here looking for a solution, Matthew.”

“What do you think I’m looking for, then?”

“Forgiveness.”

Matt paused. “That does sound nice.”

“The kind of forgiveness you’re looking for won’t be found within the walls of this church.”

“Something tells me I won’t be able to find it at all.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Fr. Lantom said, leaning back in his chair again. “With time you may get there. Couple smart kids like you? I think you’ll be able to figure something out. In the meantime, I think Y/n has to try and take some time to deal with her emotions. I’m assuming she’s mature for her age - that will serve you both well in this situation. She just has to realize it. And I think you need to be careful…and take your time healing.”

(Chapter 6)

Taglist: @babybeeelle

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Okay now I wanna write father figure Matt Murdock

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

but daddy, i love him - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys it has been a month since i posted a fic but. i wanted to write this blurb and see what i could do. remember folks-- you can't choose your dad but you can choose your daddy. happy fathers day. warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father being awful, cheating at poker, a suggestive ending, mommy and daddy kink (not in a conventional way) word count: 1.3k summary: your matthew finally comes up with a way to get back at your dad. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: but daddy, i love him - taylor swift "screaming 'but daddy, i love him'/i'm having his baby/no i'm not/but you should see your faces'

He listens to your anxious heartbeat all the way to your dad’s house. He knows you’re nervous. He knows you can’t help it. It’s years of manipulation and trauma built up, but this year, he tells you, is different.

You started dating Matt just after Father’s Day last year—So he does not understand the horrors associated with it. Sure, he’s met your dad a few times. Christmas, once or twice throughout the year..

And while your dad loves Matt, because he puts on a smile and a charming laugh, Matt hates your dad. He cannot fucking stand him, mostly because he spends most of the year comforting you after your dad pulls something.

So when you told Matt about the yearly poker match that he hosts on Father’s Day, your lovely Daredevil boyfriend decided that the only thing he wanted for the holiday was to see you happy.

The plan was easy.

He would listen to the other players’ cues, and tap your hand once to bet, twice to call, three times to raise. Then, from there, he’d read the nerves of your opponents and write the initial of whatever he thought was best to do from there.

And it’s not like you let your father win, either. You and your siblings do your best to beat him, but every year, he manages to find a way to win. You suspect he’s cheating.

But as you pull into the driveway, Matt’s head tilts.

“Baby,” he starts, his tone dripping with affection, “You need to relax, or else you’ll never be able to win,” he tells you, “Your dads gonna be able to read you like a book.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. You manage a soft smile before nodding.

“You’re right. Ready to go in?” You ask, and Matt’s hand finds yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I am.” He hums.

• • •

As your dad deals out the cards, Matt finds himself sitting right next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. He’s usually affectionate, so no one bats an eye.

He looks at your Matthew, before asking,

“You playin’, Matt?”

Matt smirks and takes a sip of his beer. He’s not only playing, but he’s already won. Sure, a poker face is hard to maintain, but a nervous heartbeat is impossible to hide from Matt. Not only that, but the nervous sweat, or small bouncing of a leg or a finger that you might think was hidden. Matt could read easily.

Of course, Only you and him know that. And sure, it’s pretty much cheating, but you have been losing to your dad in poker and have listened to him brag about it for years on end, since you aren’t playing for money, only bragging rights.

Besides, your dad is a piece of shit and has done nothing but manipulate and torment you, driving you crazy, for as long as you can remember.

So, fuck ‘em.

“Somehow,” Matt replies after a moment, “I don’t think I’d have much fun with cards.” He tells him, and you and your siblings, as well as an uncle or two and your grandfather, laugh. Your dad’s face hardens as if he’s been one-upped.

You play cards for a while—Going on three hours by the time it gets down to just you and your dad. Your brother was the first one out, then went your sister and uncle, then your other uncle and grandfather. You stand face to face with the beast. And you’re so close to winning.

Matt listens as he deals the cards. When he glanced to the card, Matt takes a moment to listen. He tells you to raise with his finger, and you do. Your dad scoffs.

“That’s a dumb move.”

“Why?” Matt answers you. “Scared to be beat by your own kid?” he asks, and his voice is teasing, but when you listen to his voice for a second, you can hear the snark, the venom laced within. The devil has come out to play.

And he is insistent on you winning.

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head.

“This one? Not one bit.” He hums, placing his cards down, what you recognize to be a tell of his bluff. You don’t need Matt to tell you to go in for it, because you realize you know this game, and you know this man. He is so close to winning that he thinks if he can convince you that he has a good hand, you will probably believe it.

So, you go all in.

And Matt just leans back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as his smile grows. The other players that are out of the game stare at you like you’ve just thrown the whole game away. But Matt begins to hear your Dad’s heart stutter.

But you study his face, and you have to give it to the man, despite the fact that you’d never ever give him credit, he has an incredible poker face. Luckily, not only do you have a boyfriend who helps you win, you also learned a long time ago that your father is gifted in lying.

He is also incredibly egotistical, so he goes all in too.

So, when it’s time to reveal cards, your dad smirks.

“Flush.” He tells you.

A thick silence fills the air, before you turn over your cards.

“Four of a kind.” You smirk, and your father’s face drops. Matt and your siblings start clapping as you start laughing, and everyone in your dad’s backyard quickly learns that there is a new Father’s Day poker champion.

You grin as you lean over to Matt, kissing his cheek.

“My lucky charm.” You say, scrunching your nose at him.

He sends you a wink back.

• • •

You ride the high of beating your dad all night, giggling softly as you stumble out back to the car. He holds your hand as you lean on him.

“I cannot believe we fucking did that,” You tell him. “That was amazing!” You grin, and he laughs.

“You’re amazing! You went all in and I didn’t even have to tell you!” He grins. You sigh, leaning back against your car. Matt’s arms wrap around your waist. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and you hum happily.

“Happy Father’s Day,” You whisper as you kiss repeatedly, the passion between you growing. His arms move from around your waist, to moving his hands up and down your sides.

“Mmm..” is all he hums back.

“How can I say thank you for today?” You ask him, and he pushes his body against yours.

“Maybe you could give me something to celebrate next year..” He says softly. You smirk.

“You want me to make you a daddy?” You ask, and he groans against your skin.

“Mm, Maybe.” He says quietly, leaning in to kiss your ear. “What do you think, Mommy? Wanna go home and continue to feel good?” He questions, biting the skin right below your ear.

“As long as you keep kissing me like that, daddy.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss him again before biting his lip, tugging on it a bit.

“Now that’s something I can do. Easily.” He smirks. His lips come down to start kissing your neck, leaving little kisses and bites on your neck. “You’re gonna make such a pretty mommy..” He tells you, his hands squeezing your thighs. He thinks he might go crazy if he doesn’t get a hold of you, a better taste.

His mind runs wild with thoughts of all the things he could do to you. You cannot stop thinking about making him a father, about him filling you up.

You love the holidays.

[angelyuji]

what romance trope would they have?

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

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

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

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

miguel o’hara: unrequited love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

matt murdock: right person, wrong time

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

father paul hill/john pruitt: forbidden love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

peter parker: friends to lovers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

natasha romanov: office romance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

regulus black: rivals to lovers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

harley quinn: partners in crime

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

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

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

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

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

[aza-writes]

Blood Red : Chapter 14

Doodles of Saturn

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE AND PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

Aleksandra's POV

A euphoric feeling lingers as I ride my bike to the meeting. I weave in and out of cars in a rush to get there, worried I'll crash if I ride on this high any longer. I've never had to ride my motorcycle or drive a car while my head remains stuck in this haze, but I kinda like it. I like the absence of worry and strategy; I like the recklessness.

Tonight's meeting is at the Ranskahov garage, where they stash their taxis. It's a typical meeting spot, unassuming. You wouldn't question a bunch of cars going into a garage. That would be a ridiculous thing to be suspicious of.  I'd almost feel bad for the idiot who thought, "Huh, I wonder why cars are going into a garage?"

I don't slow down as I navigate into the opening of the garage, allowing the ramp to pull me down even faster than I was going, adding extra adrenaline to my already excessive-high. My heart is going incredibly fast; I fucking love it.

My bike comes to a skidding stop, forcing all the momentum to stop at once and forcing my bike to turn 180 degrees to avoid crashing into something or someone. Besides the usual people at Mr. Fisk's meetings, there were also the people the Ranskahov brothers employ. Bloodstained water covered the ground and slowly drained.

More blood.

This night keeps getting better and better.

The smell is dull, diluted with water. It doesn't matter, though; blood is blood.

Even over the sound of the power washer the Ranskahov employees are using to get Anatoly's head bits off the door frame of the car, Leland's voice echoes throughout the garage. Even though he is a loud talker, I cannot fully grasp what he's saying. There's a soft ring in my ears that, combined with the power washer, drowns out the actual words he's saying. I know it's his voice. I know he's speaking, but I can't register anything.

As I approach the group of mobsters and drug dealers, I take the helmet off; my mask and hair are still intact. The instructions for the meeting said to keep the blood on my face, so I do just that. I'm not complaining; I get to ride out my high for longer and relish in a well-done job. My eyes scan the circle, acknowledging everyone I see.

There are so many mobsters in one room. Harsh faces that have or been an accomplice in a murder or assassination. Except for one. In a sea of drugs, sex, and crime, there's an angel sneaking glances and smiles at me.

Under my mask, I want to smile back and let him know I see him, too, but would we risk being in trouble? In the Red Room, we would be punished for anything that indicated a connection, romantic or platonic. We, of course, cared for each other, but no one knew what was a genuine connection or simply bonding because they were there. Although I don't want to, it's the ladder.

Maverick's face melts away all of the other thoughts in my brain. Nothing else matters right now. I've just met him, but I feel like I've known him for years at this point.

Why am I feeling like this? I have been around boys my whole life, yet he makes me feel something. He isn't just an object; he means something. Fuck, I must be going crazy.

The illusion of it being just us is quickly fading. Our reality crashes back as Leland continues to ask questions. Gao just giggles at him.

Leland looks me in the eyes and says something to me. I can't make out his words, but I can sort of read his lips. He repeats the word "look" several times, but he mumbles so much that I don't catch the rest.

His eyes dart to something behind me that shuts him up immediately. I push my shoulders back, making myself look more intimidating as Fisk's car pulls up.

Fisk's car is silent; if you weren't completely quiet yourself, you wouldn't be able to hear it.

Wesley steps out of the car first, straightening out his suit jacket. Not even a millisecond later, Leland starts to run his mouth again.

"Why aren't we meeting in the usual place? And what's all this?" He gestures to the bloody cars and garage.

"An opportunity," Fisk's voice echoes throughout the garage, controlling the conversation. "for those willing to seize it."

Madam Gao laughs again. I can't tell if she's crazy or just a bitch. She is my favorite out of the group, though. She finally speaks up.

"最后，我们看到了主销。是什么花了你这么久." (Finally, we get to see the kingpin again. What's been taking you so long.) Her voice is very cheerful, with a hint of sarcasm. She truly is my favorite mobster.

Wesley turns his head to Fisk, not making eye contact. "She's happy to see you." His voice is quiet like it always is. It has a false calmness; if you weren't familiar with reading people, you would think it's true. He tries so hard to behave how mobsters do in the movies, but it seems almost too natural to him. He's still wearing a mask, though; he's not born for this like Fisk.

"My apologies," He leaves a long pause in the middle of his sentence, "for my absence of late." His voice grows louder, and he becomes more controlling of the situation. "And for calling you here on little notice."

"Where are the Smiley Twins? Sleeping off another kidnapping?" Leland, who had no impulse control, decides to interrupt Fisk again. As silence hung for a moment, his eyes drifted to me, then back to Fisk. "What's with bloody over there?"

That sentence caught Maverick's attention. He looked up a bit at me, then put his back down and continued to write. My eyes had to stay focused on Leland, not allowing me to see Maverick's facial expression without looking. Is he disgusted with me? Ashamed?

"The Ranskahovs are no longer a part of this organization."

"Since when?" Leland's annoying little voice butts in.

"Since I removed Anatoly's head," the silence was deafening, "with my car door."

I take a sharp inhale, the memories of blood and carnage rushing back. My brain goes fuzzy again. Madam Gao's voice becomes distant again.

The smell of the blood from last night still lingers in my mind, mixing with the scent of the blood on my face now. I want to resist getting lost in my thoughts, I really do, but it's hard not to. My brain is hardwired, too. Not just psychologically but biologically and chemically, too. I'm fucked in the head on a neurological level.

I want to move my head and look at Maverick and see his reaction to everything. In meetings like this, I feel sick to my stomach seeing his reactions. Today's worse than the others; I've never had blood on my face and clothes before. I've never been on a blood high around him before.

He seems almost unbothered by the meeting and the topic being covered. He's unfazed by the blood, talk of murder, and the mobsters surrounding him.

I allow my eyes to drift up and down, analyzing Maverick; his head is down, taking notes. His sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows, and his tie is a bit loose. The paper he's holding isn't very big, but big enough for me to make out some of the things he wrote before Fisk came. Several long math equations are scratched on the paper, and next to them is a little doodle of Saturn.

He doesn't belong here. I need to protect him.

I've never felt this instinct to protect towards someone before. I guarded who and when I was told to, not when I felt it was right. Protecting Maverick feels right.

My view of Maverick is eclipsed by Fisk. He towers over Maverick. Maverick isn't a small man, but he doesn't compare to Fisk's colossal build. Although the most dangerous mobster in New York is glooming over not just Maverick but Leland, too, he doesn't care. He is unfazed, writing notes, equations, and the occasional doodle.

"The masked vigilante killed his brother."

I can feel my eyes dilate, the spike in my nervous system is evident, but no amount of blood-struck euphoria will make me lose my composure in front of Maverick. He doesn't need to see me this way.

"At least that's what Vladimir believes."

All eyes in the room turn to me. Everyone, except for Maverick's. His nose is in the notepad. Scribbling and scribbling to the point he needs to flip the paper again. His fingers are diligent. His hands are flexed, making the veins and muscles on his arms stand out against his rolled-up sleeves. Such strong arms for such a delicate person.

"Did your little widow-monkey-blood-girl do it?"

I know what my role is supposed to be here; say something intimidating to play into the part I've been cast in. Even though my brain is screaming at me to be the bad guy, I can't do it.

"You think I wear his blood for full day?" I tilt my head slightly, staring deep into Leland's soul "I'm not a monster." I relax my voice, creating a haunting whisper. I'm doing my job, what I'm doing is enough.

"Weren't the Russians terrified of you? I wouldn't exactly call you an angel-"

"I thought she was? Russia's angel of death." Maverick's voice cuts through like a knife. All eyes going from me to him. "I did my research. I do my job."

"Little sh-"

"That's enough." Wesley's eyes. "We came here to hear from our employer. Let him speak."

Fisk continues talking, everyone's attention turns back to him; all but mine. My eyes stay on Maverick. His eyes linger for a bit on me before returning down to his notepad. He flips it again, but very few notes are on the page. The majority of it is taken up by a doodle of an ocean wave, but it couldn't keep my attention. The opposite side of the paper had delicate angel wings and a halo. But between them, a little heart.

• • • • • •

Masterlists

[ophelia-loves-desdemona]

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

- she is Matt and Elektras Daughter

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

- has dark hair eye colour doesn't matter

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

Thank you guys have a great day 🥰

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. 

You, to be exact. 

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing. 

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen. 

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it? 

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?” 

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?” 

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.” 

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.” 

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.” 

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?” 

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.” 

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?” 

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs. 

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.” 

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity. 

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken. 

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new? 

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash. 

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder. 

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow. 

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor. 

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state. 

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands. 

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer. 

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm. 

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder. 

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms. 

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone. 

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?” 

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.” 

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others. 

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared. 

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind. 

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.” 

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked. 

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?” 

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned. 

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while. 

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry. 

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch. 

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…” 

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…” 

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement. 

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more. 

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded. 

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?” 

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together. 

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…” 

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer. 

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise. 

“At once?” Frank asked. 

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.” 

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began. 

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion. 

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights. 

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible. 

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven. 

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once. 

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.  

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!” 

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold. 

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?” 

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin. 

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.” 

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.  

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him. 

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”  

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. 

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him. 

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.” 

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.” 

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?” 

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?” 

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point. 

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.  

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?” 

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?” 

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…” 

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?” 

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet. 

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds. 

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up. 

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled. 

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core. 

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently. 

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely. 

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease. 

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places. 

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds. 

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion. 

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open. 

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray. 

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open. 

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix. 

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.” 

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.” 

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table. 

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.  

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing. 

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.” 

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth. 

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection. 

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern. 

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead. 

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own. 

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.” 

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness. 

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole. 

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer. 

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming. 

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him. 

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth. 

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.  

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you. 

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door. 

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of. 

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber. 

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur. 

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all. 

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope. 

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale. 

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story. 

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin. 

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it… 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem

Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

my masterlist

gif by me

summary: The positive pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom counter was the least of your worries, considering you had to tell both the men you'd been regularly sleeping with the news and figure out which was the father. A task that would be difficult for anyone, but especially difficult for you since the potential fathers of your child were Matt Murdock and Frank Castle. When the three of you come together to coparent, their complex relationship with each other and the lingering weight of their haunted pasts makes pregnancy and parenthood difficult for all, not to mention the lingering feelings each harbors for you and how they'll compete to win your love.

warnings: AFAB Reader. Love triangle that leads to eventual MFM throuple relationship. Eventual smut (DONT READ IF YOU'RE NOT 18+/YOUR AGE IS NOT LISTED IN YOUR BLOG) including but not limited to: three ways, oral (all giving and receiving), DP, etc. In depth mentions of pregnancy, birth, newborn, postpartum fem body, and parenthood. Matt and Frank's pasts being complex and traumatic. Parts of it will be canon for Born Again, parts won't: I'm picking and choosing which parts I want to be, okay? Be prepared for many chapters, slow burn, and angst that eventually gets happy.

a/n: I got to thinking how could you ever realistically get Matt and Frank into a throuple with you and I realized the only way to do it would be get pregnant and not know which is the father. So that's what this is. Yes I am still working on another multi-chapter series. Yes she is fully outlined and waiting to be written while I also work on this. Mind ya business.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5: Coming Soon!

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

[bellsbookshop]

give me attention [i need it now]

pairing: matt murdock x reader

a peek at the cat-coded tendencies of matthew michael murdock ⋆🐾°

author’s note: my writing partner and i had a silly little chat about how matt is truly an orange cat at heart, and this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, the tiniest hint of angst re: matt’s upbringing, and a dash of suggestiveness જ⁀➴ as usual, any feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is appreciated and welcomed ! title comes from where the lines overlap by paramore. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 960

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the evening light trickles in through the apartment windows, only slightly overshadowed by the neon of the billboard just outside them; everything is painted in hues of purple and orange and red, hazy and soft in the quiet peace. matt’s draped over one end of the couch, a stack of papers in his lap and a furrow in his brow as his fingers dance over the braille engraved there. you’re at the other end, book in your hands and a blanket draped over your tucked up legs, keeping him company while he works. the week has been long for the both of you, work bleeding over into the domestic time you two usually share, so you’ve taken to sitting with him while he slogs through paperwork after dinner. it’s not the most exciting, but its still quality time, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

every so often you’ll look up at him, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the light splashes patterns over his face; even with the exhaustion under his eyes and the stress lining his forehead he looks handsome, a stained glass painting that’s all yours to gaze upon. sometimes you like to tell him he reminds you of a church window, larger than life and beautiful to match it, just to watch a rare blush dance over his cheeks. usually it’s matt flustering you with his cheeky flirting and charm, so on the rare occasion that you get to turn the tables on him you take full advantage, warm with affection for him.

one of his hands stills on the page he’s reading, fingers twitching almost involuntarily as if wanting something he can’t voice, and a small smile lifts the corners of your mouth. in the months of dating matt, you’ve come to realize that for all his late night deviling and daytime lawyering he’s truly just ….

catlike.

he craves attention but never knows how to ask for it, the words always at the tip of his tongue. he’ll wrap an arm around you silently, squeezing you in a hug so tight it takes your breath away, resting his head against your shoulder and burrowing his face into your neck. he’ll deny it till he’s blue in the face, always brushing off your questions and sidestepping your concern, but he melts the moment you touch him, a puddle of repressed catholic goo in your hands.

you muse to yourself that it’s likely due to his childhood — the loss of his father, growing up in the church orphanage, seeking out the world with his hands open only to find it just out of reach. it’s put a muzzle on his ability to voice the need, the deep seated longing for intimacy that doesn’t involve heated touches beneath silk sheets. thankfully you’ve taken it upon yourself to study him, master the language that is matthew michael murdock, and you know all his tells when he’s in desperate need of affection.

setting aside your book, you look for the rest of his tells; the tightness in his jaw that means he’s clenching his teeth, the way his shoulders seem heavier despite being out of his work clothes and in a cozy sweater that doesn’t irritate his skin. the most obvious one is his hands, the restless way he’s tapping them against his paperwork, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the pages. it’s enough for you to decide he needs a break, and you sit up enough that you can tug the work out of his hands and set it on the coffee table, pulling him in close to your chest with an exaggerated pout.

“i need a snuggle, c’mere. i feel like the mistress to law right now,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions and tugging him with you till he’s laying against you fully, head against your chest. one hand gently rubs patterns against his back, soothing away the stress in his shoulders little by little. your other hand goes to the back of his neck, nails lightly scratching at the hair there till he’s all but dead weight on top of you, like a matt-sized weighted blanket.

“i do have to review those last few witness statements before bed,” he manages to protest after a moment, but there’s no urgency in his tone; he’s perfectly content to stay right where he is forever, paperwork be damned. you do your best not to laugh, pressing a light kiss to his temple as his hands snake their way up your shirt, warm palms holding your waist to ensure you don’t wiggle away.

“sure, matty. after our cuddle.”

bit by bit he starts to crumble; his eyes close, the fingers drawing circles on your skin moving slower and slower till they stop, just the warmth of them there. his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of them easily, and his complaints about needing to get up come less and less frequently till they die off altogether, nothing but little huffs and mumbles when you talk to him like he’s purring, rumbling low from his chest.

he falls asleep like that, face in your neck and his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against the couch, and you don’t wake him. like this he’s peaceful, all traces of worry gone from his face, and you love it when he’s like this — sleepy and warm and pliant, not afraid to take what he needs. affection and love, that’s what he needed, and you’ll happily give it to him for as long as he’ll let you.

even if you had to trick him into thinking it was your idea. such a cat, you laugh to yourself, brushing his hair off his forehead.

maybe you should get him a bell. ✮⋆˙

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Forgive me father, for I have sinned

Matt Murdock X F!Reader

He needed to get to you, to make sure that no one had managed to lay even a single finger on your head. The sound of his steps was nearly silent as he lunged over the side, dropping down harshly onto the fire escape. Breath foggy, a reminder of just how close he’d come to losing everything tonight.

A/n: hello! It’s been a while since I’ve posted, and it’s been even longer since it’s been a marvel fic, this is just Matt being a slut if I’m honest

Warnings: smuuuuut, mentions of bodily injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of death

The wind was sharp, the cold stinging the open cuts that seemed to multiply as he stood atop the building. His heart was still beating, for now.

He needed to get to you, to make sure that no one had managed to lay even a single finger on your head. The sound of his steps was nearly silent as he lunged over the side, dropping down harshly onto the fire escape. Breath foggy, a reminder of just how close he’d come to losing everything tonight.

Lips pulled back into a snarl, fingers digging into the metal of the stairway, he vaulted over, pulling himself higher until he reached his apartment. He stopped, listening closely for your heartbeat.

Thump…thump…thump.

You were sound asleep, soft breaths echoing inside his bedroom as you slowly rolled over. You didn’t need to see him like this, like a monster.

It didn’t matter how often you rebuked that statement, claimed he was better than he’d ever seen himself. Daredevil was a monster inside and out, a way to express himself without causing harm to those he loved most. After he’d lost Foggy, things were blurry, as if he was remembering everything through a thick veil. Nothing made sense anymore, a reminder of how quickly things could be ripped from his hands.

Karen left not long after the funeral, stating she couldn’t stay in the same place he’d been murdered. Matt hadn’t left his apartment during those few weeks, his hands still stained with his best friend's blood. Sure, Dex might be behind bars for the remainder of his life, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

He opened the door slowly, his attention focused solely on you as the latch shut with a soft click. Your breathing hadn’t so much as shifted, letting him know he could head down without worry.

You’d nearly killed someone tonight, someone that has a family they go home to.

Matt’s heart slammed into his chest as he grabbed onto the handrail, heel nearly slipping out from underneath. 

“No, he,” Matt cleared his throat, the skin of his knuckles breaking open once more as he struggled to compose himself.

Does she know what you do at night? How do you attempt to save the city by nearly killing people? Innocent lives will be lost by your hands.

“No!” Matt reached up, harshly yanking off the mask  that kept his identity hidden from the rest of the world. 

The air stilled as the cool air of the apartment began to brush over his heated skin, the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead in the moonlight. The red lenses of his helmet dimly, the mask held loosely in his hands, fingers curled ever so slightly.

How could he ever begin to believe that, even for a moment, he wasn’t the true monster of the world? His sins spreading far and wide, the inky blackness that slowly corrupted him sinking into those he cared for most. Foggy had already been ripped from his hands, the reminder that he couldn’t be by his side as he took his last breath, his final heartbeat echoing in Matt’s mind. Was he a monster for trying to keep the city streets safe? Or was he no better than the men he was going after?

“I’m nothing like them,” his steps were silent as he reached the base floor, movements fluid as he stepped over to the chest that normally hid his suit.

He halted in his haste to strip down as you shifted in bed, the sound of the silk sheets rubbing against your soft skin, a breathy sigh slipping through your lips.

His blood burned hotter in his veins, hands nearly ripping the suit off in his haste to shove it, none to kindly, into the case. The only sound he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing like rapid waters.

Her skin will be tainted with your sins, Matthew, are you ready to damn her as well? To bring her to hell alongside you to burn for eternity?

Matt growled low in his chest, hands clenched into fists as he stood nearly naked before the chest. His body littered with bruises that would heal before he could begin to worry about them. Feet turning towards the bedroom, his heart raced as he slowed the closer he got to the bed.

Fingertips traced over the soft material, calluses catching ever so slightly on the barely frayed edges. Your breath was slow, heart beating slow and steady. An angel lying before him.

“My darling,” his voice was soft as he gripped onto the blanket covering your body, slowly sliding it away until you were bared before the world.

Though he couldn’t see your body properly, Matt knew you looked ethereal bathed in the soft moonlight. Breath catching in his throat, his brow furrowed as he realized you’d gone to bed nude, the taste of your arousal thick in the air.

Swallowing thickly he slowly crawled onto the bed, listening intently for any change in your heartbeat. Hands pried open your thighs further, his lips trailing soft kisses along your smooth skin. Teeth sinking into the supple flesh of your thighs.

Your head twisted around on the pillow, thighs pressing against his ears as you attempted to both escape, and relish in the sensations. His tongue lapped at the mark, groaning low in his throat as he trailed the appendage closer to your soaked core.

Fuck, he’s never smelt something so divine in his life. 

His eyes slipped closed as his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, suckling gently. Your essence coated his tongue like the sweetest candy, a delicious treat he’d gladly let himself drown in if you’d let him. His palms slid up to press against your belly, pressing your body into the mattress before sliding up to your chest.

Your legs squeezed tighter, eyes flicking back and forth behind your closed lids. Matt never left you unsatisfied, it was egregious that anyone ever dared utter the words around him. His tongue trailed down to your slick entrance, sliding in and curling up towards your g-spot.

Though your eyes remained closed, Matt could feel the way your cunt tightened around his tongue, your orgasm soaking his mouth and chin. He palmed your chest gently, thumbs sliding over your nipples as he felt the skin tighten beneath his touch. He pressed closer, sliding his tongue back up to your overly sensitive clit, practically able to feel your heartbeat through it.

Subconsciously he began to utter prayers, tongue and lips assaulting your clit. Your thighs clamped around his head harshly, an intense scream ripping free from your chest, your eyes flying open as you looked down at Matt.

“Fuck, baby,” your thighs shook as you ran a hand through his hair, gently gripping the soft strands as he ate you out as if it were his final meal.

It was almost as if Matt was deafened by everything surrounding him, his hands squeezing your chest as he lapped his tongue harder against your clit. Your eyes rolled back as a second orgasm washed over you, hands pulling harshly. 

“Baby, please,” you could hardly catch your breath, heart racing as you tried to come down from the intense climax of your second orgasm.

Normally Matt would never push you past your limit, he loved you too much to ever hurt you. However, tonight was nothing like normal. His palms slid from your chest, your nipples sore and aching as he grabbed the fat of your thighs and ass, pushing you closer to his face as he rolled onto his back. Your eyes flew open as you realized exactly what he’d wanted.

“Jesus,” your voice was barely above a whisper, hips grinding down against his mouth.

Matt gripped your thighs harder, moaning against your skin as your essence dripped down onto his jaw. His cock strained against the tight fabric of his briefs, the tip leaking as he drank you in. His hands traced up your spine, pushing your body forward so his nose grazed your clit.

Your head dropped between your shoulders as you came for a third time, tears dripping down your cheeks as you struggled to keep yourself upright. 

“Matty,” you gripped the headboard, carefully pulling yourself up and off before plopping down onto the bed.

His eyes were closed in bliss, chest rising and falling harshly as he licked his lips of your taste. Arousal flooded your body as you watched him, ignoring how battered his body was, again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” Matt let his eyes open slowly, looking over in your general area.

“Trust me, that was an amazing wake up call,” you’d finally managed to catch your breath, a soft laugh slipping out.

He couldn’t help but smile, eyes crinkling as he reached up to gently graze his fingers over your thigh. You’d never seen him look so beautiful before.

“However, it looks like you need some help,” you scooted down the bed, hooking your fingers into the fabric of his briefs before pulling them down and off.

His cock slapped against his stomach with a wet slap, precum seeping into the thick hair on his stomach. The skin was nearly purple, hot to the touch as you gently stroked him.

“Fu-fuck!” His back arched off the bed, hands gripping onto the sheets as he did his best not to cum right then and there.

You cooed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of his throat, lips trailing down his chest and stomach before reaching the tip of his cock. Taking him fully in hand, you wrapped your lips around him, giving gently kitten licks as you kept your eyes on him.

Matt couldn’t contain the guttural moans that echoed inside the bedroom, hands blindly searching for you as his hand tangled in your hair. You immediately pulled off his cock, squeezing the base as a warning.

“You’re going to behave and keep your hands to yourself, do I make myself clear?” You reached back with your free hand, untangling his hand from your hair.

One thing no one would ever expect to find out, is that Matthew Murdock, is an absolute sub.

“Yes miss,” Matt’s throat felt tight as you began to take control, laying his hands down onto the sheets.

You watched him for a moment to ensure he wouldn’t pull another stunt as he just had, leaning down to take him back into your mouth once more. He could hardly focus on anything other than how your tongue felt tracing over the underside of his cock. The air felt thick, drowning the both of you as Matt tried to focus on not cumming. You pulled off with a smirk, fingers sliding down to gently cup and squeeze his balls.

“You’re doing so good for me, bet you wanna cum, huh?” Your tone was condescending, teasing in a way that riled Matt up intensely.

He nodded hastily, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook from head to toe.

“Please,” his breath caught in his throat as your hand wrapped around his cock once more, pumping quickly.

Before he could utter a single word, even a warning, he was cumming over your hand, cock throbbing intensely as he whimpered.

“Look at that, such a good boy for me,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your hand continued to stroke his cock.

Matt felt his breathing pick-up as the intensity of his orgasm began to slow, the overstimulation setting in. His lips parted to bed for a reprieve, to beg you to stop if for even just a moment.

“C’mon, I know you’ve got one more in you,” you giggled, letting his cock lie against his stomach as you straddled his lap. He hadn’t even softened in the slightest.

His hands slid to your thighs, thighs shaking as you dragged your soak cunt along the underside of his cock.

“Baby, fuck, baby please,” Matt was ready to plead, to pray to any god that would listen if it meant sinking in to your heat.

You ignored him, hands pressed against his chest as you rocked your hips slower, the tip of his cock pressing harder against his stomach each time. To anyone eavesdropping it would be obvious what was happening, a man having what could only be considered the most intense orgasm of his life.

“I’m not stopping until I am done, do I make myself clear?” You pushed yourself up onto your knees, taking his cock in hand as you slowly sank down onto him.

“Ye-yes, ma’am,” Matt nearly went cross eyed as your heat enveloped him, jaw slack as he sighed happily.

Your movements were slow, deliberate in a sense as you took his hands off your thighs, sliding them up to your chest. Matt wasted no time in pinching and squeezing your nipples, thumbs rolling over the skin.

“So beautiful,” Matt could write sonnets about how beautiful he found you, fingers tracing gently over your skin as he quickly pushed himself up, pulling your bodies flush together.

“I love you,” you pressed your foreheads together, panting softly against his skin as you rocked your hips faster, his cock gliding deliciously against your tight walls.

“I love you too,” Matt leaned up, pressing a kiss to your lips, arms wrapping around your waist as he fucked up into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulder with a loud cry, moaning against his mouth as you struggled to keep up with his intensity. He cupped your jaw, pressing kisses along the skin as he chased your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him.

“Let go for me, come all over my cock sweetheart,” Matt gently nipped at your neck, slamming his cock in once, twice, thrice before you came all over his cock, your body locking up as Matt’s eyes squeezed shut once more, his hot cum filling your sore pussy.

He slowed his thrusts before stilling completely, your bodies still fully connected as he pulled away from your throat.

“Are you okay?” Matt pressed kisses all over your face, the fear that he could’ve hurt you in any way tearing at his soul.

“I’m doing fantastic, might not have feeling in my legs right now,” you laughed against his hair, fingers gently caressing the indents from your nails.

He carefully laid you down, pulling out slowly before making his way into the bathroom to get a damp washcloth. You watched as he came back into the bedroom, body covered in a light sheen of sweat as well as cum sticking in the hair covering his chest and stomach.

“Just warn me if I’m too rough, okay?” Matt had always been gentle when it came to aftercare, even if you didn’t have such intense sex.

The cloth was warm as it pressed to your core, cleaning up your mixed fluids. Normally he’d toss the cloth into the hamper to be dealt with later, instead he folded it over, cleaning off the inside of your thighs slowly, meticulously.

“Don’t forget yourself,” your eyes trailed down his chest slowly, even when you were on the brink of exhaustion you couldn’t get enough of him.

“I was thinking a shower would do us some good, if you’d be okay with that,” Matt leaned up, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before sitting on the bed beside your hip.

You mulled it over in your mind for a brief moment, could you even handle standing up long enough to get clean? Then again a shower would actually get you clean.

“Yeah, let’s take a shower,” you sat up slowly, not wanting to worry Matt by making yourself dizzy.

Matt stood up, lifting you up bridal style before heading into the bathroom. The room wasn’t that big, especially not for two people to fit comfortably. Carefully setting you down onto the sink he turned back towards the shower, turning it on and stepping back to let it heat up.

“Be more careful next time, okay?” You traced your fingers along his spine, the fresh bruising more obvious in the dim lighting.

“I’ll try, I promise,” Matt turned to face you, hands pressed on the sink on either side of you.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, lips moving languidly with his own as your chests pressed flush together. The taste of yourself lingered faintly on his mouth, your skin heating up at the recent memory.

As the room began to fill with steam Matt pulled from the kiss, his hands sliding beneath your thighs as he lifted you up.

“Shall we?” His lips pulled into a smirk as he stepped into the small shower, slowly setting you down.

“My, my Mr Murdock,” you giggled, resting your hands against his chest as the water glided over your skin.

Matt didn’t let his hands stray far, fingers tracing over every dip and curve that he could reach. Your own hands traced along his chest.

Soft words were whispered between the pair as Matt carefully washed your hair, fingers scratching at your scalp as you did your best to keep your eyes open. 

God damn that man and his amazing hands.

He didn’t so much as let you lift a finger as he scrubbed your body from head to toe, being more gentle on any areas that could be sore from earlier. Never protesting as you grabbed his own soap, scrubbing down his body with a bright smile.

Matt felt his chest tighten as you turned to rinse off the loofah, your back pressed against him. He’d never thought he’d have something so domestic, so loving.

“Marry me,” the words slipped out before he could stop them, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your hands stopped altogether as you looked up at him from over your shoulder, eyes wide.

“Really?” Could this be a joke? A slip of the tongue, and Matt hadn’t realized his mistake yet?

“Yes, I have a ring hidden away, I know I’m asking you in the most unconventional way possible, but I want to marry you,” Matt listened to your heartbeat, hearing how it beat harshly behind your ribs.

You waited for a moment, gathering your thoughts as tears welled up into your eyes, a bright smile pulling up your lips.

“Yes!” You didn’t waste a second, turning to face him as you threw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Matt was stunned for a brief moment, mind slowly catching up that you’d said yes! His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you in tight, kissing you back hastily. You’d actually said yes to marrying him, the woman he couldn’t believe at times had chosen him.

“I fucking love you,” he pulled free from the kiss, hands squeezing your soft flesh.

“I love you too,” you laughed through a sob, tears mixing with the water from the shower head.

He reached back, shutting off the water so that you could both get out and head back to your bedroom.

He scrubbed your body town with a towel, hands moving faster than you’d seen them before. Your giggles echoing in the small bathroom as you watched him. Matt smiled as he wrapped you in the towel, wrapping one around his own waist.

“Go sit, I have to get the ring,” Matt patted your ass gently, making his way out to the chest he’d hastily shoved his suit into earlier.

This night he was more than thankful you never pried into his lifestyle as Daredevil, you would’ve found the ring months ago, ruining the surprise. Grabbing the small box he held it tightly in his hand, making his way back to the bedroom.

You had somehow managed to change the sheets while Matt was busy, having changed them to clean, dry sheets. 

“You’re too perfect for me,” he smiled, kneeling down in front of you before popping open the box.

Your jaw dropped open as you saw how gorgeous the ring was. Had he somehow found your Pinterest and given it to a jeweler to perfect a ring for you? That seemed like the only logical explanation.

“Matt, oh my god,” you pressed a hand to your mouth as he carefully pulled the ring free, grabbing your left hand before finding your ring finger, sliding the cool band over your skin.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. You make me the happiest man alive,” as the ring settled on the base of your finger you couldn’t stop staring at it.

This was going to be your forever.

And you couldn’t wait to start the beginning of forever.

tags: @gaylemonshark @mel-thefrog

[kitkatpadywaks]

Recommended Fics

Fics/One-shots I liked.

Key: 🔥Smut - 💢Angst - ❤️Fluff - 💀Dark Themes - 💕Slow Burn - ❤️‍🩹Hurt/Comfort - ✔️Complete(Series) - ❌Incomplete(Series)

Last Updated: 10th December 2024

Bucky Barnes fic recs | Daryl Dixon fic recs | Arcane fic recs

❤️‍🩹🔥Kinks and All by @babblydrabbly - (Harley Quinn x f!reader x Rick Flag)

❌💀❤️‍🩹 Eternally Yours by @a-reader-and-a-writer - (Vampire!Rick Flag x Vampire!Reader)

💀💢🔥LOVE HURTS by @coweye - (Rick Flag x Reader)

💢❤️Already Married by @darling-i-read-it - (Rick Flag x fem!reader)

❤️💢💀🔥free ground by @foli-vora - (Rick Flag x medicf!reader)

🔥danger! high voltage by @foli-vora - (Rick Flag x metahumanf!reader)

🔥HOT TO GO by @seancekitsch - (Adrian Chase x Reader x Rick Flag)

❌💀🔥💕 when you become untouchable by @starforgedthor - (Meta-Human!Villian!Reader x Adrian Chase)

✔️💢💕 today i bury you in me by - @the-darklings

✔️💢He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed by @kaznejis - (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

❌🔥💢Your ivy grows, and now I'm covered in you by @kaznejis - (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

we're hanging on by a heartbeat by @kaznejis - (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

❤️‍🩹Comfort in the Darkness by @awkward-walking-potato - (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader)

❤️magnetic field by @flowersforbucky (erik lehnsherr x reader)

🔥❤️Healing Touch by @librababe99 (Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader)

🔥Teacher's Pet by @comicbookslut (Charles Xavier x Reader)

🔥Kinktober Day One (Clothed Sex) by @comicbookslut (Young!Charles Xavier x Reader)

🔥❤️Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? by @lokidjarin-7567 (Erik Lehnsherr x Reader x Charles Xavier)

❤️🔥New Tricks by @thevillainswhore (Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader)

🔥Revenge Sweeter Than Honey by @thevillainswhore (College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader)

🔥❤️change of pace by @nickfowlerrr (beefy!bucky barnes x curvy!reader)

🔥Kinktober 2024: Day 5 by @rootedinrevisions (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

❤️Almost Kisses by @aquaticmercy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

❤️Beautiful Mess by @aquaticmercy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

In Another Life by @aquaticmercy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

❤️Of Black Ink and White Lilies by @aquaticmercy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

❤️Of Heroes and Heartstrings by @aquaticmercy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

❤️How I Met Your Father by @brunchable (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

❌💀❤️🔥💢Winter King by @brunchable (King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader)

💀🔥Captivate Me by @brunchable (Stalker!Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

🔥Fri(end)s by @buckymorelikefuckme (bucky barnes x fem reader)

🔥Bucky's Second First Time by @eufezco (Bucky x fem!reader)

🔥Silent In the Library by @soelstress (Bucky Barnes x female!reader)

🔥❤️love language by @flowersforbucky (bucky x avenger!reader)

❤️Every Part of You by @anonymityisfunwriter (Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader)

❤️can you watch my boyfriend for me? by @jiarkives

🔥Water Proof by @vivwritesfics

❤️🔥Stay by @jobean12-blog (Bucky Barnes x female reader)

🔥the night trilogy by @thyme-in-a-bubble (bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader

🔥the abandoned tie by @thyme-in-a-bubble (matt murdock x secretary!reader)

❤️💢Peace and Quiet by @aquaticmercy (Carol Danvers x f!reader)

❤️‍🩹🔥Don't bet on it by @hollybell51 - (Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader)

❤️rest your eyes by @perseephoneee - (castiel x reader)

✔️🔥"If you will have me, I am yours." by @gilverrwrites - (Human!Castiel x Fem!Reader)

✔️🔥Takeout Tuesday by @gilverrwrites - (Human!Castiel x Fem!Reader)

🔥Salt n' Lick by APerfectGrace (AO3 - Castiel x Reader)

🔥close call by @wife-of-all-dilfs - (bellamy blake x reader)

❤️bioluminescence by @wife-of-all-dilfs - (bellamy blake x reader)

🔥pretty fixation, wicked temptation by @wife-of-all-dilfs - (bellamy blake x reader)

💢🔥Unravel Me by @thoughtsofedin - (Diego Hargreeves x Hargreeves!Reader)

💀❤️If I Can't Have You by @watchstarscollide - (Homelander x Reader)

💀❤️‍🩹🔥Guilty Pleasure by @blindmagdalena - (Homelander x plus size f!reader)

🔥💀how hungry i always am by @citrusai (Homelander x afab!character)

💀🔥Vicarious by @plutoswritingplanet (Homelander x plus-sized!reader)

💢❤️colourblind by @come-on-darling-honey (paul lahote x reader)

❤️🔥the way feat. luke alvez by @mcondance

Treacherous Waters by @joaquinwhorres (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

🔥Sweet Southern Peach by @rustanddusted

Oblivious by @toboldlygohome (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

❤️smile by @specialagentlokitty (Patrick Jane x reader)

treat you right by @specialagentlokitty (Patrick Jane x reader)

💀🔥Honey and the Hatchet by @cambria-writes (Patrick Jane x Original Female Character)

🔥Redemption by @the-horned-witch (Patrick Jane x Named!Reader)

🔥The Rock N' Roll Got Harder and Softer by @dilf-docs (eddie brock x younger fem!reader)

🔥keep a secret by @val-made-a-mistake

🔥monster tongue by @star-crossed-sluts (eddie brock x reader x venom)

🔥Chocolate and Cream by @angel-of-the-moons (Eddie x Venom x Curvy!Fem!Reader)

🔥riding dexter in his iconic killer fit by @hisbuni (fem reader)

🔥good girl by @willieverseetheland (Dexter Morgan x reader)

A New Moon by @happy74827 [Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

🔥i think i'm 'bout to explode, i can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air by @dexteri0us (dexter morgan x f!reader)

💀You are who you eat by @minawritesfanfic

[marifilue]

Attempted

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader (No use of y/n)

Oneshot: Takes place at Daredevil Season 3, where Matt faked his death. You find him in his lowest point.

Tags/Warnings: Mention of su!cide attempt, angst with comfort, blood, violence, established relationship.

You knew Matt was alive. At least, two weeks after you believed he was dead when a twenty-story building collapsed on top of him.

That was the longest two weeks of your life. Two weeks of waking up to the same nightmare, two weeks of staring at the empty side of your bed, two weeks of waiting for a ghost.

Denial clung to your bones like a second skin—no body was ever found, no trace of him beyond fragments of his suit, scattered among the rubble. No DNA. No sign of life.

It was as if Matt Murdock had never existed.

Then, one random Tuesday morning, Father Langton approached you. He didn’t have much to offer—just a few quiet words, hesitant but weighted with meaning.

Matthew was alive. Matthew was hiding beneath Clinton Church.

Your world cracked wide open.

You could have dropped to your knees, could have broken down right then and there. Gratitude flooded your veins, burned behind your ribs. And yet, before you could run to him, before you could beg for proof, Father Langton shook his head.

Let it be.

He said Matt needed time. That it would be easier for everyone. That if you truly loved him, you’d wait.

Three months passed.

Three months, and Matt never reached out—not to you, not to Foggy, not to Karen.

You've saw him around. Like a ghost, drifting through Manhattan, blending into the crowd. Jacket pulled tight, cap drawn low, always listening, always observing. Planning his next move.

Tonight, after your night shift, you walked home, the cold New York night never kind as the clock neared ten. Spotting Matt was the last thing on your mind. But then you heard voices—men, tense and aggressive. And there he was, caught in a fight in a narrow alley.

Your breath hitched as you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the wall, hidden in the shadows.

He wasn’t exactly hard to find. Not in that all-black outfit, not in that mask.

You weren’t sure if he had sensed you yet. He used to be able to pick you out of a crowd with just the rhythm of your heartbeat, the faint scent of your perfume. But tonight, his head was bowed, his posture eerily still.

Two men. A fight. But Matt wasn’t fighting back.

He fell on his knees purposely, arms spread, unmoving.

A metal rod glinted under the glow of a streetlamp, raised high, aimed for his skull.

Your world stopped for a second.

Then you ran.

You didn’t think—you just moved. You yelled, the sound slicing through the night, drawing their attention. The one with the rod barely had time to turn before you tackled him, knocking him to the ground.

Matt startled at the sound of your voice. His head snapped up. And then, as if something inside him snapped back into place, he swung, his fist cracking against the second man’s jaw.

The one beneath you growled, tried to strike—you caught his wrist and snapped it. He screamed.

Before you could react, he flipped, hands closing around your throat. Your vision blurred, air cut off. Then—

A sickening crunch.

Matt’s boot slammed into the man’s already-broken arm. Another scream. His grip loosened, and you stumbled back, gasping.

But Matt didn’t stop.

He grabbed the man by his collar and hit him. Again. And again. And again.

The rage in his fists, the sharp sound of bones cracking. Three minutes ago, he had been ready to die. Now, he was desperate to live.

He was painting, his knuckles red. The body beneath him went limp. Matt stilled. Tilted his head slightly. Sensed you.

He muttered your name.

And all the grief, all the anger, all the love you had swallowed for the past three months tore out of you in one sharp, broken breath.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you yelled, frustrated at him.

Sirens.

Matt’s head snapped up. “We gotta hide. Run. Now.” He said before spitting his own blood.

You get on your feet immediately and didn’t hesitate, he run followed you closely behind.

Six blocks. A sharp turn. Another alley. Neither of you spoke. The sirens faded, but the weight in your chest didn’t. You turned to leave.

His voice caught you, calling your name. “Where are you going?”

You kept walking. “This was a mistake.”

He reached for you, grabbed your arm, calling your name once again. “Stop it. You can’t just walk away.”

You flinched. Yanked yourself free. “Why not? Isn’t this what you wanted, Matthew? For everyone to be out of your life? For me to be out of your life?”

His breath hitched. He pulled off his mask, let it fall to the ground. “H-how long have you known?”

Your throat tightened. “As if you care.”

“Tell me—how did you find out?” he said voice laces with despair.

You turned, took a step back, shaking your head. “What the hell were you thinking, Matthew?” The bite in your words betrayed you, your heart clenched immediately at the sight of him. Exhausted, blood smeared across his mouth. His eyes screamed, help me.

He let out a bitter chuckle. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Exactly. You weren’t.” Your voice cracked. “Two weeks, Matt. That’s how long I thought you were dead. That’s how long I woke up every morning thinking I had lost you forever.”

Matt’s lips parted, but no words came.

“And then I found out you were alive. Still you never reached out. You just disappeared.”

His silence was deafening.

You laughed—sharp, humorless. “What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I worth a single goddamn explanation?”

He exhaled, ran a hand over his face. “It wasn’t about—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare tell me it wasn’t about me.”

He reached for you again. You stepped back. He followed.

You turned. He caught your wrist.

His grip wasn’t forceful—just unwilling to let go.

“Let me go, Matt.”

“No.” His voice was quiet, steady. Unshakable. “Not this time.”

Your chest caved. A war raged inside you—anger and grief and longing, colliding like waves against jagged rock, tearing through the fragile walls you had spent three months building.

“Matt—”

“Just listen to me.” His voice was raw, pleading. “Please.”

You swallowed against the burn in your throat, blinking hard.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he wanted to punch something—maybe himself.

“I know I’d be condemned if I tried to take my own life,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

His next words were quieter. Broken.

“But I could let someone else do it.”

Your stomach dropped.

His grip on you tightened slightly, as if saying it out loud made him realize how fragile he still was. “I was done.” He said your name like it hurt. “But then you found me.”

Something inside you shattered.

Your vision blurred. “You can’t just survive death and take that for granted, Matt.” Your voice cracked, barely able to hold itself together.

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped free.

“I know,” he murmured, breath warm and unsteady.

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head. “Screw you, Matt.”

A faint, broken smile flickered across his face—gone before it could settle. And then, finally, he pulled you into his arms.

The second he held you, something inside you collapsed. His warmth wrapped around you, his heartbeat thrumming against yours—a rhythm you had feared you would never hear again. You buried your face against his shoulder, and your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt like you were afraid he’d slip through your grasp.

Your sobs shook against his chest. “You’re such an asshole.”

His chin rested atop your head, his arms locked around you. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come back to you sooner.”

You pulled back, meeting his gaze—hazel eyes, exhausted and searching. A bruise darkened his cheekbone. Slowly, you brought your palm to his mouth, wiping the blood away with your sleeve. He shuddered at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

You didn’t care that his blood now stained your sleeve. All that mattered was him. Just because he always took a punch like a champ didn’t mean he wasn’t breaking from inside.

His palm pressed over your heart, fingers splaying across your chest as if he needed to feel you—needed proof that you were real, here, alive.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the words raw and open. “The rhythm of your heartbeat—I haven’t felt it in so long.”

Your breath hitched. “What now?” Your voice was barely a breath. “We can’t just pick up where we left.”

Matt exhaled, and something in his gaze shifted—like steel reforging itself in fire.

“We can,” he murmured, conviction threading through his voice. “And we will.”

His hands framed your face again, his touch grounding you, tethering you to this moment.

“You’re here. I’m here.” His thumb traced your cheek, lingering like a silent promise. “That’s enough.”

Your throat tightened. Was it enough? You weren’t sure.

But as his fingers curled around yours, as his warmth seeped into your skin, as the exhaustion in his eyes softened into something steadier—something sure—you let yourself believe him.

For now, it was sure all you needed.

A/N: This was one of my oldest drafts. I first wrote it two years ago, and after proofreading it for a while, I finally decided to post it. I’m coming back to my roots with my Daredevil obsession, and I’m so excited that Born Again is releasing next month, just a few days before my birthday! Yippee!

[jaggedamethyst]

that will be enough (matt murdock x reader)

pairing: matt murdock x reader

content: reader has holiday anxiety (me lol), angst, some fluff if you squint

notes: I have missed matt honestly...but this is something short while I work on some other things. if you also have holiday anxiety...sending love. as always, I dont believe in proofreading.

full masterlist linked here

For Matt, the holidays were yet another reminder of the love he had in his heart—most of all for his dad. The love he had for you was intense, yet differed from the emotion held for his late father. While having laid the great Jack to rest, the feeling of doing so always persistent in his mind, he could forget it was there. With you, the warmth consistently filled his body. It made sense, then, that he was exceptionally in tune to your every action. 

Matt dreaded his somber mood during this time of year. He quickly noticed, too, your feigned enjoyment. Whether it be a mindless repetitive tapping, or a grimace at the sight of even more holiday decor—the disdain was clear. 

You’d forced yourself to accept invitations, RSVP, and show up to events this year. With each one, you were reminded of how little you actually had. Not financially, per say, but the lack of family. It was easy to say that that intimacy could be found anywhere, but people sucked. It was officially true that with your low tolerance for bullshit, you had girl bossed your way into having no friends, no family to see, and nobody to love—besides Matt. The thought made you pull away from him. The thought of placing all of this onto Matt alone—to be the only important thing in your life—was a lot. So when you found yourself at another winter soiree, Matt attached at your hip, it was easy for him to notice you weren’t okay. 

He tried to talk to you a few times, you hadn’t responded. Not purposely ignoring him, he noticed, but regressing into that state you would sometimes when you were overstimulated. There was so much happening, you couldn’t process everything. The music was meant to be the obligatory party soundtrack. You let out a huff at the ambience seemingly blaring in your ears. Your head was pounding. There were too many people. Too much talking. Not enough quiet. 

You felt a hand on your back. You turned to see Matt there, as always. You tried to hide the immediate response your body had to him, but you both knew that he was aware. 

“You okay?” His voice the only thing making sense was common for you. He’d say the same about you. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “How are you feeling?” He rubbed a few circles into your lower back, before resting his hand on your waist. 

You nodded, a hesitance there, “I’m o-okay.” You turned your head away, embarrassed by your inability to say two words without choking up. 

Without a word, Matt grasped your hand and pulled you from the table you’d be standing at. You followed him, always willing to do so, you’d go wherever he went. Shut up. You quieted your own thoughts. How pathetic it was to be so incapable and reliant on a man. Your lip quivered. Matt turned to you, again, sensing it all. He moved to grab your coats—sliding on yours, then his. 

“Come on.” 

Your feet were moving on their own. You let the feeling of his arm pulling yours lead you into the elevator. You sniffled, still not much on your mind other than the immense failure you were. 

“Hey,” Matt turned to you as the doors closed. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” 

You felt the tears building, the pressure burning your eyes. “It won’t.” 

He was in front of you now, the twinge of salt in your tears hitting the air and his lips. Matt turned swiftly, hitting the stop button. You stumbled at the jolt and grasped for the wall for support. 

“Matt! What are you doing?”

“What are you feeling?”

“Nothing, I’m good.”

He tilted his head as he did, “Lie.” 

“I hate you,” 

“Another lie.” 

You turned to face the elevator wall. You sucked your teeth at your reflection. He was always so in tune, whether good or bad you still were not sure. It was times like this, where you let as if you were crawling in your skin, that the thought of explaining that phenomenon made you feel ill. 

He interrupted the thought, “It’s okay.” Don’t get yourself worked up. 

A split second later you spoke frantically, “I don’t think I can live without you.” The words blended together, the embarrassment increasing with every letter that left your mouth. 

He smiled a bit, nodding, “Thats good to hear…seeing as I don’t really plan on going anywhere.” 

The sound of you inhaling and exhaling slow filled the elevator cart. You looked at him, then. “What I mean…meant…is that…I am overwhelmed right now.” 

An arched brow and a nod encouraged you to continue. 

“I have nobody,” He opened his mouth to interrupt. You quieted him with your hand up, “…except you. Which isn’t…ideal.” There was sympathy, but silence still. He allowed you the space, here, to say everything. “Whenever we’re out…when I’m out…I feel so lonely. It’s like this time of year just heightens that feeling I have that everything should be perfect. But nothing is. Nothing can be.” You paused, “But I want it to.” 

“I miss my dad.” Matt stated plainly. “And I don’t really talk to my mom.” It was your turn to nod this time. “I have a few people I care about, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Especially during Christmas.” He went to lean on the opposite elevator wall as you were standing. “I imagined myself having years way beyond what I had with my dad. In church on Christmas, or maybe watching movies with him…I didn’t get much of that.” He stabilized himself, removing his red frames with one hand. “I don’t want you to feel burdened by the expectation of what a cookie-cutter life should be. Sometimes there’s other plans for us…and honestly…if we only have each other, forever, that will be enough for me.” 

You nodded aggressively, trying to make sense of that. You tried to drill the words into your mind so as to never be in this state again. 

“I hate Christmas.” 

Matt moved to hit the button, “Me too, babe.”

There wasn’t much said on the way to his apartment, nor when you’d both crawled into bed. After a while, Matt grabbed your palm and kissed the back of your hand. He spoke into your now intertwined fingers. “I can’t live without you either, by the way.” 

“Good to know that we’re both extremely helpless individuals.”

He chuckled, “We truly belong together”

You hummed. The intense feeling hadn’t completely left you, but rather been satiated by the knowledge that despite its existence—Matt would always be there, too.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 28 & 29: Face-Fucking & Roleplaying/Religion Kink

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Face-Fucking & Roleplaying/Religion Kink (✨)

Summary: Sometimes, you and Matt roleplay one of his 'darker' fantasies. Or to fuel his Catholic guilt, at least.

Warnings: Smut (18+), religion kink, roleplay (priest!Matt), blasphemy, fetishizing Matt's cross necklace, mentions of hair pulling, oral m!receiving, face-fucking, PWP

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: If using catholicism in a very not-Christian context is not your cup of tea, don't read this! I once again decided to put two prompts together because my original idea for the roleplaying prompt included face-fucking, too, and I didn't want to write two similar pieces. It was a creative decision.

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon, once all prompts are posted)

The sun has long set over New York City.

A disarray of neon lights from the billboard outside casts a dark red glow over the bedroom, dancing like fireflies over your skin. The tingle travels from your head to your weeping core, though you physically can’t clench your thighs for the kind of friction you have been craving all night. 

You kneel before his dark person, wrists bound with delicate knots before your bare chest, ankles crossed behind you. Seven words, you utter. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Not daring to lift your head, you can only imagine the stripe of white in his collar that makes him look so innocent; a priest taking your confession like a true servant of God. Like your penance won’t be his cock between your swollen lips while your pussy aches for his touch rather than a few Hail Marys. 

Confession with Father Murdock is the sweetest kind of torture known to you, and the only one you will tolerate. 

“It’s been…a while since my last confession,” you say. 

Without a word, Matthew tilts your chin up to meet his unfocused stare, wanting to taste every single word coming from your lips like honey. 

You lean into his touch. “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

“Bad how?” he asks. 

“I’ve been fantasizing about a man of God.”

“Fantasizing?”

“Dreaming of him,” you confess, “but the dreams I’ve been having are so unbelievably naughty.”

He bites back a smirk. “And who’s this man of God?”

Without hesitation, you answer, “You, Father.”

The light flickers. He traces the outline of your lips with the pad of his thumb, coaxing you to open. You’re drooling already. His skin tastes of salt and the beer he spilled earlier, but to you, he tastes like the most exquisite meal—salvation. 

You suck the digit into your wet, hot mouth, circling your tongue around it. Matt exhales a gasp of surprise, though he quickly recovers as he pushes down on your tongue, gently but with a determination that leaves your cunt aching. With the other hand, he undoes his trousers.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his hard cock standing tall against his clothed stomach. You want to reach out and touch the veins running along the underside of his shaft. You want him to fuck you until you can’t stand straight anymore. You want his cock to be branded into the tight walls of your pussy so you’ll forget every other man who has ever dared to touch you. You want to be so full of his cum that he’ll leave your thighs sticky for days to come.

“There’s only one thing you can do,” Matthew murmurs, gliding the leaking tip of his cock over your lips, a small taste for you to savor. 

You moan, involuntarily so, but one harsh thrust of his hips causes the air to bleed out of your lungs.

“Atone,” and he buries his cock deep in your throat. The feeling is as familiar as it is alien. 

Through hooded and teary eyes, you see the soul leave his wound-up body. A demon leaving the body of a priest. The sight of that stupid thin piece of white fabric constricting his otherwise black collar as he bares his long, pale neck to you, all the while still wearing that god-awful golden crucifix of sin has you clenching around nothing but thin air, and you wrap your lips around his cock in a vice-grip. 

Matt groans. “Forgive me,” you hear, his voice breathy as it breaks through the thick air.

You don’t tell him to stop. He fucks into your mouth with the force of a proper madman, but it only makes you moan louder around him.

You’re the one atoning for your sins, but he is the one praying not to the one God he believes in but to you. He asks for your forgiveness for doing something he deems so absolutely and selfishly wrong; fucking your mouth without giving you an ounce of appreciation back. Using you. 

His teeth grit with every harsh thrust as you gag and gush around him, but God, he can’t stop. So, he prays. He prays because that’s the only thing he knows how to do.

He doesn’t need to beg for forgiveness when you’re the sinner on your knees, but you can’t help that it makes your pussy flutter, still. You, his goddess, and the altar he prays at. You, the woman who let him dress up as a priest and use her to live out his most perverted religious fantasies whenever he pleases. Because in the end, Father Murdock is your favorite role of his, and you’d gladly confess to treason if it means he will take you apart like this over and over again until the day your body can’t take it anymore.

Matt Murdock’s utmost devotion is yours and yours alone, always has been and always will be.

Spit trickles down your chin. The only sounds coming from you are grunts and gurgles, but he’s loud enough for the both of you. You’re afraid if you hear any more of his sweet moans he might have to scrape you off the floor, liquified. 

Suddenly though, the salty weight of his cock disappears, leaving your mouth wet and empty. 

“Wh–” you stutter.

“You’re gonna be sore,” he chokes out.

You look sternly up at him. “But this is my penance, F–” You stop yourself before you can utter the honorific again. “I can take it. I have to.”

He utters your name, and for a moment, his mask slips.

“Forgive me, Father,” you repeat, “but I have been a bad, bad girl. By God’s rules, I have to atone for my sins.”

Matthew lets out a guttural growl and his expression changes. “God, yes,” he says, no longer hesitating to thrust back in. Seconds stretch into hours, it seems. “I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father,” thrust, “the Son,” thrust, “and the holy spirit.”

Your throat has well grown numb by now, his prayer resonating in your ringing ears, and with the eagerness of a new woman, you swallow every last drop of his cum as he finally bursts on your tongue with a strangled, “Amen,” to the ceiling above—to God.

For once you are glad that he can’t see you or he would surely shudder at the mess he made of you. “Thank you, Father,” you croak. 

The curtain falls. The play comes to a sudden yet inevitable end. You raise your head in his lap. He looks so blissed out, so…guilty? Maybe only a little.

“I’m okay,” he answers before you can ask.

A silly smile grows on your cum-stained lips. “I am, too.”

In one swift motion, he has untied your wrists, and he pulls you with him onto the edge of the bed, his arms offering a safe haven from the cold hardwood floors, and you once again come to appreciate the force of a man you had the honor of marrying. 

For even when he is reduced to a mindless, overstimulated puddle, he takes the last ounce of his strength to carry you, always.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || Ch. 35]]

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

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.6k

ao3 link

He dreams of hands. 

They are soft and delicate, but they do not treat him as such. They wrap around his throat, tightening and cutting off his air until he is left gasping and wheezing - nails dig into him, breaking his flesh and drawing up dots of blood. 

But the hands do not hurt him. They do not cause pain.

They only bring him pleasure.

They make him feel Desired. 

Wanted.

They claw desperately at him, not holding back as they squeeze and tear at him. He isn’t treated as something delicate - something that will crack and break under the slightest pressure. He arches into them as he is marked with thin lines of scratches - begs with what voice he can muster for more.

More.

He’s teased to the point of almost too much before the hands reset.

Whatever they plan for him, he submits so easily to it. 

He yearns for it when one leaves his neck to force open his jaw. He is in bliss as his lips are pushed back so his teeth are exposed like he’s an animal in need of inspection. A thumb tests the sharpness of his canines before more digits are added to completely fill his mouth. His head is tilted and guided so he can be thoroughly examined and he prays the fingers will gag him - be shoved down his throat so all he can taste is their saltiness.

But they don’t. They retract until only the tips remain, keeping him from being able to close his mouth. A low whine escapes his throat in protest, something weak and pathetic and needy, and the response he gets is more pressure to his windpipe until he’s struggling to breathe. 

As his lungs become desperate for oxygen, something viscous begins to drip into his waiting maw and he wastes no time drinking down whatever the gift is. It is tangy and musky, but sweet and he wants it to coat the inside of his mouth. 

He wants to drown in it. 

As he begins to overflow and get his wish, the hands holding him down begin to fade into nothingness and he is left floating in the abyss. 

But he is not alone. 

He is wrapped within the drumming of twin beats - one is stronger than the other, but they are both steady. They are both warm. They call to him and the beast inside his chest trills out in response - he wants to be with them. To be a part of them. 

Soon, the smaller beat begins to morph - it’s firm ‘thuds’ stretching and bending until they are words. 

“Daddy, wake up.” 

Matt’s eyes blink open. 

Despite their uselessness in terms of sight, the act still helps him wake up and fight off his grogginess as he begins to process all the inputs he is receiving. The most obvious and important of the signals he is getting is that of his precious daughter, standing next to the bed, just by his chest. 

She does not seem distressed in any way, so he does not panic. He lets himself yawn and for his brain to catch up to being awake before he responds.

“Yes, princess?” he asks, voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t move, hoping that whatever has his daughter out of bed is trivial and he won’t have to get up just yet. He has no idea what time it is, but he gets so little rest that even an extra few minutes will do him wonders.

“Daddy!” Minnie’s voice is filled with absolute delight at his acknowledgement, but is also a fraction above a whisper - like she is just barely breathing out the words. Matt’s lips turn up into a soft smile as he realizes she’s trying to be quiet so she will not wake the other person sleeping in his bed. You are deep in Dreamland, but you have a Mother's Ear. If you hear Minnie up and talking, you'll jump to attention, and neither he or his princess want that. 

He rolls so he is on his side facing his little one, and reaches out to run the back of his index finger over one of her full cheeks, “Why are you awake, baby?”

Mouse preens at the affection, a wide smile taking over her face as she leans into his touch, “I needs help, please thank you,” she starts, her soft voice coming out a little rushed as she tries to tell him everything at once. “I gots up all by myselfs and went pee in the toilets. All by myselfs. Buts, Daddy, I can’t…I can’t reach the sinks. I trieded but it's too high and I can’t reach it. I tried really really hard! Mommy says, Daddy, she says, Mommy says if I can’ts do it myself I gotta ask for help. So I need help, please thank you.”

Matt takes in the information slowly, letting it roll in his brain and combine with everything else he senses. 

He can hear the toilet gurgling and refilling after being flushed. He can smell the traces of urine on Minnie’s fingers from her efforts to clean herself. The world begins to bloom around him as he processes what is being asked of him.

A small amount of Pride fills him at her attempts to take care of herself. She wears pull ups to sleep because she is still learning to control her bladder at night, but since Matt has known her, there have been no accidents he is aware of - even in this new environment. It isn’t her fault he has a tall pedestal sink with no step stool for her to use so she can wash her hands. 

Rest is important, but his little girl needs him, so Matt rolls himself out of bed. 

As soon as he is up on his feet, Minnie is holding up her arms to be picked up, so she is scooped up onto his hips, and her tiny arms go right around his neck. His shirt covers the bruises and cuts that make up his entire torso, but it does nothing to cushion the pain of thirty pounds being bumped into him. He's far too disciplined to wince or grunt, but he reminds himself this is why he needs to work on his defense. 

He can't play with his daughter with broken ribs.

As he carries her to the bathroom, he becomes more and more awake and Minnie’s attempts to turn on the sink become more and more obvious. 

The faucet is dripping the smallest amount of water, one drop at a time - the handle has just barely been nudged to turn on - and something semi solid has been dragged over to be in front of the sink. Only when Matt is right in front of it and can feel the item with his foot does he realize it’s his empty laundry hamper, but tilted over to be on its side. 

He huffs a soft laugh as he imagines his daughter trying to figure out a solution to her hand-washing problem. He loves her cleverness and outside the box toddler thinking. 

“Did you try to climb up on the hamper to wash your hands?” he asks, curious as to what the response will be. He's curious about her logic and curious if she'll admit to moving the hamper.

“It’s not strongs enough to hold me,” she grumbles into his shoulder and Matt does nothing to suppress his grin. He likes the answer. He likes how honest and direct she is. 

He likes that she follows the rules her mother gave about washing her hands. He likes that she realized she had a problem and attempted to find a solution, and when that didn't work, she came and asked for help. 

Matt loves her so so much and he loves all the values you have instilled into her. They are the values that you hold, that you cherish, and think are the most important. Every time he thinks about what a wonderful mother you are, his heart swells and he can't believe God is being so gracious with him.

He thanks the Lord everyday for you and the precious angel you have brought into his life.

Matt gets his foot under the hamper and lifts it back up right with ease, explaining as he does, “It’s made of wicker - that’s a type of tree. It’s hollow inside and that means it can’t support any weight. It’s only meant to hold clothes, not people.” He wants her to understand why her problem solving didn't work. He selfishly wants to encourage this type of behavior. If she can get up at night and wash her own hands, he gets more sleep.

“But I’m a peoples.”

“You are a peoples. But Daddy overlooked not having a step stool for you,” he says, owning up to his oversight. He admittedly has not been around too much during waking hours, unfortunately. The firm has been busy, so Matt has been getting to work at seven thirty in the morning and Minnie gets tired around eight at night. That doesn't give him a lot of time when he gets home at six in the evening. “I’ll get one for you today, okay?”

“Can it be pink?” 

Matt agrees to the request as the hamper is returned to its usual home, and once that is done, he assists Minnie by holding her up to the sink so she can thoroughly wash her hands. He is no longer surprised at how seriously she takes the task - his angel always wants to follow any rules her Mommy gives her and he knows first hand how overwhelming dirty hands can be on the senses - and the combination results in Minnie scrubbing enough to make a surgeon jealous.

As his daughter focuses on her task, he lets his hearing open up to the world outside the apartment. He gets the feeling it is still a few hours until sunrise - there is a distinct stillness the city gets between four and six am, and that is just beginning to waiver. In his quick scan, no one gives him an exact time, but he knows well enough that however early it is, his day has started. By the way his little girl is humming while she works, he knows there is no chance of getting her back to sleep. She is up and about and there is no way Matt is going to rouse you from your slumber when he’s perfectly capable and taking care of his angel. 

He’s used to working on no sleep and he’ll happily sacrifice a few hours of rest to be able to be with his daughter. Plus, he’ll be in court all day, supporting Foggy as second chair - with all the breaks and waiting around that normally occurs, he can sneak in a few power naps. 

He’ll be fine.

As for his morning with his sweet girl, Matt has been wanting to cook with Minnie for a while. Despite his diet of take out and leftovers, he does know his way around a kitchen and he knows for a fact Mouse is the best sous chef New York has to offer. She will be thrilled to help him do something special for her favorite person in the world. 

And she will be even more thrilled when Matt tells her the plan is to make her Mommy breakfast in bed. He very much wants to spoil you after you took such good care of him the night before and letting you sleep in will just be the tip of the iceberg. 

You deserve the Sun, the Stars, and the Moon, and while he can’t manage that at this exact moment, he can wrangle up a few physical reminders of his adoration.

Minnie gets the last of the soap off her hands and Matt pivots so she can reach the towel to dry herself off. As he does, his mind refocuses to the morning routine and the steps he needs to take before he can enact the first steps of his plan - he needs to get his daughter ready for her day. That means getting her dressed and doing her hair. 

He sees no reason to beat around the bush, so he bluntly asks, “how do you want to do your hair today, Princess?”

Mouse gives a tiny gasp and looks up at him with what he can only guess is wonder, “you’re gonna do my hair, Daddy?” Her little hands shoot up and she begins patting around her bed-head curls and he can practically hear the gears turning in her mind as she determines what she wants. You’ve told him a few times that you have been letting her make this big decision in the mornings, so he waits patiently, understanding the need for independence. 

“A ponytail!” is the final verdict and Matt is slightly relieved it is nothing complicated.

“We can do a ponytail. Can you pick out some clothes that will go nice with a ponytail?” he asks, knowing the answer will be an enthusiastic ‘yes’. Hair is something he can deal with, but picking out a toddler approved outfit is beyond his skill level for obvious reasons. Minnie is a little fashionista with all her tulle and party dresses and he would hate to make her look like a jester instead of the royalty she is. 

He adjusts his hold on her before leaving the bathroom and as he makes his way back to the bedroom, he drops his voice low, “we need to be quiet so we don’t wake Mommy, okay?”

“Quiet,” Mouse breathes in agreement, her face scrunching up with determination as she does. “So we don't wake Mommy.” He knows then that she will try her best to obey him and it makes his heart swell. 

He has the sweetest little girl in the world. 

He sets her back down just outside the doorway, and to his great surprise, she instantly pushes up to be on her tip toes. She is a bit wobbly, but she has far more control than he expected for a four year old. She turns to him, and in the most authoritative voice he’s heard in a while  advises, “we gotta be quiets” before sneaking into the room.

Her steps are exaggerated - she lifts her foot up way too high to be practical before setting it down again and between each movement is a pause to check for noise. He is reminded of an old timey bank robber and he guesses that must be the reference she is mimicking - some Bugs Bunny or Scooby Doo cartoon where silence was crucial. Her antics make him smile and he takes a moment to observe them - noting how she is true to her nickname. She makes no excessive noise and he’s sure if he didn’t have his superior senses, he wouldn’t be able to detect her. 

It is amazing to him that something that took years of training for him to master comes so naturally to Minnie. She truly is his miracle, and if he thinks about it for too long, he gets overly emotional and philosophical, so he tucks all his awe away for another time and follows her into the bedroom. 

While Mouse follows her mission of picking out some clothes, Matt grabs the bucket of hair supplies from his dresser. He doesn’t know what all the different bottles and products are for, but he takes them all anyway. He is hoping a few more sessions will have him graduating out of the novice category of hair styling and he will be able to do more than the basics.

Apparently, asking Minnie to pick out clothes while being quiet also made her focus, as she  selects something from her suitcase in record speed. She exits back into the living room the same time he does, a big smile on her face as she holds up her prizes to present to him. He's pretty sure she's showing him a pair of leggings and a t-shirt dress, but such small clothes are a little harder for him to figure out.

“I wanna wear these.”

“With your ponytail?”

“Yes, please! Thank you!”

With the hard decisions made, he guides Mouse over to the couch and that begins the process of changing her into her day clothes. He’s so very lucky that she finds novelty in him being the one to assist her, because she wants to show him all the right way to do things and that she can get dressed all by herself. He’s only needed to help straighten everything out and to tell her she looks perfect in her apparently pink dress.

Her hair is almost just as easy - Matt finds joy in running his fingers through her bouncy little curls and Minnie can't soak up the affection quick enough. He’s gentle as he manually detangles any knots and he forgoes the brush completely in favor of pulling her hair up with his hands. It is far from the smoothest of ponytails, but as soon as his hands are away from her head, Mouse is running to the nearest reflective surface to examine herself.

She twirls and poses, pretending she is in front of a camera while declaring, “Daddy made me extra pretty!”

He does not need anymore ego boosting, but the compliment goes right into his front pocket and he will be telling Foggy about his accomplishments.

He lets her spin around and have her fun, in no rush to move the morning along. He knows better than anyone that these types of small moments are what his Soul and Heart need and he will cling to them as long as he can. He does wish he knew how to get his phone to take video and pictures, because he knows how much you would cherish them. It is something he plans to work on - not only for you but for him as well. He has daydreams about attending dance recitals and spelling bees and he wants to be the proud dad in the crowd filming everything. He wants to be able to go back to those moments and listen to them anytime he wants to. 

But until he actually has the energy and patience to learn more about his phone, he will treasure this time only in his memory. 

Minnie gives a final peace sign to her reflection, then she turns and hurries over to Matt with her arms held out to be picked up. 

“I’m a kitty!” she eagerly tells him as he once again swings her up onto his hip. She not-so-gently headbutts him in the shoulder, then starts rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “Meow meow meow!”

Her gleefullness is infectious and Matt is quickly grinning while he begins to exaggeratedly pet at her back, “Well, Miss Kitty, I was thinking about making some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast and I was hoping to have an assistant. Since my daughter seems to have disappeared, do you think you can help me?”  

Minnie pulls back so she can look at him, then she reaches up, fingers curled up to make a paw, and starts playfully, but so gently, batting at his cheek. “Meow meow, scrambled eggs and toast? Meow meow. I knows how to make those, I can helps, meow meow!” 

“You can help?” He confirms and she nods so hard her curls bounce around behind her. “And you won’t get any fur in the eggs? This is an extra special breakfast.”

“Meow meow, extra special breakfast, meow meow?” 

He hums in affirmation and begins to carry his little girl towards the kitchen. “Extra special breakfast. You see, someone I love very very much is still asleep and I think it would be nice to wake her up with breakfast in bed. What do you think, Miss Kitty?”

Matt gets another light bop to the face just as Minnie asks, “Meow meow, is it for Mommy, meow meow?”

“It is for Mommy.” 

He sets her on the back counter, away from the stove, and starts to pull out everything he will need to complete his task. As he does, Mouse begins to swing her feet.

“Meow meow, Mommy likes red stuff on her eggies. Meow meow meow,” she tells you, but he has no idea what she is talking about. He’s never noticed if you add something to your eggs, but he’s not entirely sure if you have eaten eggs together. Most of your meals together have been lunch or dinner, and he doesn’t recall any breakfast for dinner scenarios. 

“I don’t think I have any red stuff,” he advises as he takes out the milk, eggs, cheese, and butter from the fridge. She is completely nonplussed by the update and keeps up her kitty-time play. 

“Meow meow, she likes cheese, toos. Meow meow.” 

That makes him chuckle and instead of putting the bag onto the counter, he offers it to his daughter, who eagerly hugs it to her chest. “Do kitties like cheese, too?” 

“Meow meow, kitties love cheese! Meow meow meow!”

“What about whisking eggs, do kitties love to do that?” 

He doesn’t get a verbal response and he gets about a quarter of a second of warning before Minnie is leaping down from the counter. He darts forward, catching her by the waist as her feet miss brushing the floor by a centimeter, but his hold is no match against a wiggly toddler and she’s running out of the kitchen before his mind can process what just happened. 

He stands slowly, his heart slamming in his chest with adrenaline over his sweet girl jumping off something twice her height. She had no fear or second thoughts about it, but all he can imagine is her little body crumbling to the ground in pain. 

Is this what he puts Foggy through everytime he puts on his helmet?

He pales at the thought. 

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t safe to do that. You could have gotten hurt,” he tells her, feeling like the biggest hypocrite in the world. He’s only very recently started caring about his own well being and he’s thrown himself in danger without thought so many times that he’s pretty sure even God has lost count. 

“Kitties land on their feets!” Minnie tells him from across the room, rummaging in her bag of toys. He has no idea what she could possibly be looking for and at the moment, as long as she is safe, he doesn’t care. 

He drags a hand over his face, very suddenly understanding why being a parent is a full time job. He is definitely going to add on to his plans to spoil you - Minnie is a sweet angel but you need more than praise for raising her. 

She finds whatever she was looking for and runs back towards him with it held high over her head - it is plastic and by the smell of it, he’s pretty sure it came from her kitchen playset. 

“I knows how to whisk, meow meow!” 

Matt takes a deep breath to reset himself, then lets his affection and love for his daughter take over, “you do, do you?”

“Meow meow, yeah, I can whisk lots of things!” She waves the toy at him, clearly proud of herself, and he chuckles at her sweetness and eagerness. He wanted her help in the kitchen and he is certainly going to get it.

“Okay, then, Chef Miss Kitty, let's make some eggs.” 

First thing first, he gets the coffee going. He switched to the brand you prefer the morning after your first time in his apartment and he’s made sure to memorize exactly how you take it so he can give you the perfect cup every time. 

Next, he cracks eggs into a bowl while Minnie watches like a hawk, her toy whisk clenched tightly in her hand and waiting to do her job. He adds a dash of milk and as soon as he sets down the carton, his shirt is being tugged on so he can lift up his little angel - so he does. 

Determined doesn’t even begin to describe what Matt witnesses. Minnie takes the task as seriously as a professional chef, hunched forward and silent as she works. There is a little pout on her lips and he has to latch onto his own professionalism so he won’t laugh. 

There is no need for him to direct her - she was not telling tall tales about her abilities. She blends the eggs beautifully and when Matt senses there is no point in continuing to whisk, he kisses her cheek. 

“I think you got them, sweetheart. They are perfect, thank you.” 

“I love whisking,” she whispers to him like it is a secret and he takes note of it. He’s sure that when Minnie finally gets to meet Foggy’s parents, there will be lots of desserts in his future. Anna loves baking and loves grandkids and letting her have an afternoon with a toddler who loves to cook will probably be like an early Christmas.  

She stays on his hip as toast is started and butter is dropped in the pan to melt. She keeps surprisingly quiet, only piping up to ask to switch her whisk for a spatula. She gets a real one as the time comes to start cooking the eggs. 

“You have to let them bubble a little and start to become firm,” Matt directs, hoping his directions make sense. “When the parts touching the pan get solid, you have to push them out of the way so the liquidy part can cook, too. Got it?”

“Meow meow, got it, meow meow.”

He doesn’t know if she really understands what he is saying, but it is clear that you have let her stir the eggs before. She is gentle as she nudges things around, like she is aware too much will make a mess and again, she stays sharply focused, seemingly wanting to make your breakfast in bed as perfect as possible. He is quickly learning that tomfoolery is not tolerated in Chef Miss Kitty’s kitchen and he is more than fine with that. He thinks it is absolutely charming that she is so dedicated. 

She sits up straighter when the eggs begin to firm and form into a runny scramble and Matt hums out soft praise, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 

“I knows how to make eggies, meow meow.”

“You sure do. Do you want to add the cheese now?”

“Meow meow, yes, please. Meow meow.”

He gives her another kiss and a minute later, Minnie is telling him the newly cheesy eggs are done and he sets her down so he can transfer everything to plates. She stays in his shadow but out from under his feet as the toast is buttered and cut, and coffee is poured. It is only after everything is ready to go that he realizes that he does not have a tray to properly present breakfast in bed. 

He considers his options, then decides on just bringing the plate as is, with a dish towel under it to keep you from burning your hands. He’ll make sure he has the correct set up for the next time he does this - because he knows very well there will be a next time, and a time after that, and many more after that.

The moment Minnie steps out of his small kitchen area, her demeanor changes completely. She is back to being an excited toddler and Matt lets himself throw his head back and laugh as she takes off towards the bedroom. He follows after her, his heart swollen and glowing with love for both her and the woman who changed his life for the better. He prays this is one of the moments he will remember for the rest of his time on Earth and can replay in his mind over and over again.

“Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! We made you breakfast!” 

---

:3

---

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer  @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall 

@xoxabs88xox @bluerobin35  @lovely-foxes-exe

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium