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anna-hawk · 7 months ago

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Good Boy

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: Frank loves giving Matt nicknames and wonders which one he likes best. There's one that Matt definitely likes particularly much.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 2,7k

Tags and warnings: smut, light Dom/sub undertones, praise kink, pet names, come eating + sharing, bj

A/N: Based on this small comic. The second I saw it, I knew I needed to put it in writing and give it an end. I really hope you like it @kuriusagiart. Thank you for allowing me to write for you 🧡

Read it on AO3

As soon as he was through his apartment door, Matt heaved a giant sigh of relief at being back home after a long, very long day. The days had gradually gotten warmer, which did nothing for the fact that he had to wear a suit to work. Whichever suit or work it might be, too. He put the jacket that he’d been carrying over his arm on a coat hanger next to the entrance door and untied the already loose knot of his tie until he could take it off. While he walked further into the apartment and towards the bedroom, the entrance door closed before heavy footsteps sounded from behind him. Inside the bedroom, Matt put the tie on a dresser, where Frank joined him without a word and pressed his chest to Matt’s back. It always amazed Matt how much Frank seemed to need to touch Matt after a tiring day, trying to get to skin as quick as possible. Frank never let anything on outside, but as soon as they were out of the public eye, he was all up in Matt’s personal space. Not that Matt could complain, as he smiled to himself when barely a second later, Frank slid his hands under Matt’s arms to reach for the buttons of his shirt, his lips mouthing over the back of Matt’s neck.

“Frank, you’re gonna ruin my shirt,” Matt grumbled at the hurried way Frank was dealing with the buttons, the threads holding on for dear life under his rough fingers.

The only downside to all of it was that a few of his dress shirts had suffered from Frank’s hastiness; buttons flying, a rip there.

“Altar boy,” Frank grunted back, not stopping his assault on the shirt whatsoever and instead lifting it over Matt’s stomach to get to the last buttons.

While Matt undid his pants at a slower pace, he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Frank’s use of that nickname.

“You are such a nickname freak.”

Frank snorted. An instant later, Matt could feel the grin against the side of his neck.

“What’s your favorite?” Frank wondered after uttering a satisfied sound at finally getting Matt’s shirt fully open and pulling at it to expose more of Matt’s neck to him. “Choir boy?” He kissed his way along Matt’s shoulder as he tugged a bit more at the shirt to pull it down one arm now.

Matt didn’t reply and instead turned his head to the side to give Frank more access to his skin, which rose with each of Frank’s touches.

“Red?” Frank continued without missing a beat, while keeping his attention on Matt’s neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of small marks over it.

Again, Matt chose to ignore him in favor of enjoying what Frank was doing with his mouth and hands.

“Babe?” Frank intoned with an audible smirk now, the term getting a grimace of disgust out of Matt. “Sweetie?”

This time, Matt had had enough.

“Ah, shut up. Ew!” he groaned on a shudder, and pushed Frank’s face away from him with a hand against the man’s cheek.

Frank laughed heartily, the sound vibrating against Matt’s hand and through his body before he caught Matt’s wrist. There was a sudden shift in Frank’s whole body language, as well as in the rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing, which had Matt stilling as a shiver ran through him.

“Or…” Frank drew out the word as he gently tugged at Matt’s wrist, his voice lowering a few octaves before he slowly licked his way between two of Matt’s fingers, teasing at the center, which got a small gasp out of Matt. “Good boy,” Frank rasped in a low and gravelly voice, right against Matt’s cheek and ear as he wrapped his arms around Matt’s chest.

The name hit Matt like a ball of heat that spread through his whole body and located itself in his chest and groin. He felt his face heating, while his mouth went slack and let a soft moan escape. Until Frank had called him that for the first time, Matt never would have believed that he could respond that way to being called that particular pet name. Or the idea that he could crave the satisfaction of being good for someone, being praised. The first time Frank had called him that, Matt had felt deeply embarrassed by his reaction, coming so hard that night that he’d gone dizzy with it. Frank’s own reaction to how Matt had responded had been enough to soothe that feeling, however. He’d come just as hard as Matt, a feeling of surprise and awe rushing over to Matt from the other man. They hadn’t gone down that path anymore, until tonight, but Matt had known that first night that this only worked for him because it had been Frank.

Frank made a pleased sound and curled his fingers under Matt’s chin to bring his face towards his. Using his thumb, Frank rubbed along Matt’s bottom lip and slightly pulled it down.

“Yeah?” Frank whispered against Matt’s lips. “Wanna be a good boy?” he continued, and slid his other hand down to slip it inside Matt’s boxers.

Matt’s entire body jerked at the feeling of Frank’s warm and callused fingers wrapping around his length, which had gone from interested in the proceedings to fully hard at Frank’s last pet name. He moaned as Frank pulled him out of his boxers to give him a few perfunctory pumps.

“Please,” he sighed, and parted his lips further to let Frank’s thumb into his mouth.

Frank groaned deeply as Matt sucked and nipped at his thumb, his own cock pressing more insistently against Matt’s ass.

“Only got started, and you’re already beggin’?” Frank hummed appreciatively, swirling his other thumb over Matt’s slit that was starting to leak pre-come. “Gonna make it real good for ya.”

Matt’s hips bucked forward as Frank tightened his fist and twisted it over the head to coat his palm with Matt’s pre-come, before sliding back down all the way to the base. Matt had to reach for Frank’s thighs to anchor himself as Frank began jerking him off with a rhythm that only quickened with each downward stroke. He tilted his head back over Frank’s shoulder as he gasped and moaned, his hips twitching and thrusting forward on each particularly sharp pass over the sensitive head.

“Not gonna hold out long, huh?” Frank rumbled against Matt’s throat that he was kissing and sucking on anew, while his other hand kept Matt’s body steady against his own, the palm resting over Matt’s chest.

He certainly knew Matt’s body and its tells perfectly, since Matt was indeed only a few strokes away from coming. Nodding jerkily with a tiny whine as his breaths came at a quicker speed, Matt’s grip on Frank’s jeans tightened as his orgasm began to rise, his whole body going slowly taught in anticipation.

That's when Frank took his hand away.

Matt's entire body pitched forward at the sudden lack of contact on his cock, the delicious tightness gone.

“Frank!” he gasped, as out of breath as if he'd run a marathon, his fingers scrabbling at Frank's arm over his chest in despair. “Please, don't — I — please.” He had a hard time focusing on his words, Frank's earlier use of the pet name and his need to come taking up his every thought. “You said — you said you'd make it good. You said-”

He cried out hoarsely as Frank's fingers abruptly returned to his cock, even his heightened senses having not warned him of the impending contact. Matt went up on his toes for a brief moment as his head flew back over Frank's shoulder, his fingers digging into Frank's arm as Frank's hand flew over his length.

“Sh, sh, 'm sorry… Just couldn’t help myself,” Frank admitted in a rough voice right against Matt's ear. “Needed to hear you beg again… Fuckin' beautiful when you let go, Red.” He thrust his hips against Matt's ass, letting Matt feel the way Frank’s cock was straining against the fly, as well as smelling Frank's own pre-come through the barriers of fabric. “But you can come now. Been so good for me… Such a good boy for me.”

Between the wild pulls on his cock, the scent of Frank and the heat of his body taking over Matt’s every sense, the use of those two words again had Matt suddenly flying over the edge with a loud shout of bliss. His cock spurted long lines of pearlescent come all over the side of the dresser, until the last, weaker shots poured over Frank's fingers.

Matt slumped against Frank’s chest as the pressure of the entire day suddenly eased off him. Grinning, probably dopily, Matt turned his face towards Frank’s with a satisfied hum, until he felt Frank’s lips meeting his. Frank chuckled into the slow kiss, and squeezed Matt’s chest lightly. Reaching down, Matt caught Frank’s wrist and pulled the hand away from his spent dick, only to bring it to his face. Ending the kiss, Matt turned his head forward again to lick over Frank’s fingers, cleaning away the traces of his own come.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Frank grunted, before he was using the hand that Matt was so carefully cleaning to grab the side of Matt’s face and turn it to him to crush their mouths together again.

Matt groaned and turned in Frank’s embrace, opening his mouth for Frank’s insistent tongue, which was focused on getting its share of Matt’s release. The hunger in Frank’s actions had them stumbling against the dresser, Matt’s ass colliding with the wood as he caught their fall. He grinned to himself at Frank’s reaction, his senses taking in Frank’s spiking lust and rise in body heat, his dick hard against Matt’s hip. With a quick move, Matt had their positions reversed, with Frank now leaning against the dresser, his chest rising and falling quickly as he held himself up with his hands on the wood. Without another word, Matt sank to his knees in front of him and made quick work of taking care of the belt, buttons, and zipper. Even before he pulled Frank’s jeans down, Matt’s senses could make out the hot outline of Frank’s length. As soon as it was out of the confines of Frank’s clothes, Matt curled his fingers around it and leaned forward. He slowly licked and sucked over the head with the barest pressure, running the tip of his tongue along the frenulum and the slit at intervals.

“Shit, Red,” Frank rasped, sliding the fingers of one hand through Matt’s messy hair to gently grip it.

He might have been about to say something more, but Matt slid his mouth down to the base to suck there while he cupped Frank’s balls and stroked a thumb over them, cutting off any further words and transforming them into a long groan of pleasure. The sound reverberated through Matt, who moaned in turn at the knowledge that Frank was enjoying what Matt was doing to him. While he jerked Frank off, Matt’s mouth went further until he was tonguing and sucking at Frank’s balls. The fingers in his hair tightened, and Frank grunted as his hips bucked faintly. As Matt made his way back up to the head, Frank finally pulled Matt’s mouth away and tilted his head up.

“Open up.”

Matt obeyed immediately at the need in Frank’s rough voice, his jaw slackening and his mouth opening wider. A second later, Frank slowly pushed between Matt’s lips, sinking in until he barely grazed the back of Matt’s throat. Sliding back out, he did it again a few more times, until Matt moved in until Frank’s tip was pressing against his throat. He moaned throatily as he pushed forward, relishing in the small tremors of pleasure running through Frank at the stimulation, the fingers tugging at his hair, and the scent of Frank’s arousal sharping all the more.

“Fuckin’ Christ, the way you go off on that,” Frank rumbled in awe, as he did as Matt requested and thrust in and out of his mouth while getting deeper every time.

Matt only groaned and whined around Frank, his cock slick with Matt’s drool and making wet squelching noises each time Frank slid further down Matt’s throat. As he contracted his throat around Frank, Matt felt a rush of satisfaction at the cry of pleasure, followed by a sling of half formed curses that fell from Frank’s mouth. He moaned and redoubled his efforts as he could feel Frank getting closer, his sole focus on bringing Frank pleasure. However, Frank clearly had other ideas, since he pulled Matt off all the way by his hair but kept him close.

“Open up,” Frank repeated, his voice having gone to its deepest timber yet.

A shiver ran through Matt at the command and just like earlier, Matt did as he was told. He kept his hands on Frank’s thighs as he stuck his tongue out as well, giving Frank the opportunity to place the head on it as he stroked himself hard and fast. The bitter taste of new droplets of pre-come hitting his tongue had Matt groaning again, a shudder of anticipation running through him at what was to come.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect like that, Red. Gonna take my come like the good boy you are, right?” Frank gritted out between his teeth.

As tired as Matt might be from the long day and the very recent, spectacular orgasm he’d just had, his dick still jerked at the praise. He nodded enthusiastically and made a sound of fervent agreement, never taking his tongue away from Frank’s cock as he let his senses take in the way Frank’s body began to go rigid, how his breathing shortened and heat culminated in his groin. A few more passes of his hand over his dick later and Frank was coming, his hips jerking as he moaned and shot all over Matt’s awaiting tongue. Matt groaned at the sweet and tangy taste coating his whole tongue, not moving until he was sure he’d gotten all of it. He slid his lips around the head once Frank was done and sucked the last traces away, the act having Frank sighing and stroking his fingers through Matt’s hair. Satisfied that he’d gotten it all, Matt stood and cupped the back of Frank’s head to pull him into a kiss. Frank made a sound of surprise, as he was still reeling from his orgasm, only to wrap his arms around Matt’s back and growl into his mouth as Matt slid his still come-covered tongue along Frank’s. They only stopped kissing once every lingering taste of come was gone, and ended with their foreheads touching, breathing deeply and smiling lopsidedly.

As Matt put a hand on the dresser to pull away from Frank, it landed right into the little puddle of come that he'd made on the furniture. He grimaced and sighed.

“You really need to stop breaking or dirtying up my stuff, Frank,” Matt muttered with a pointed wave of his hand. It might have been Matt's come, but he blamed Frank for where it landed.

Frank snorted. “Didn’t hear ya complain, Choir boy.”

“Nope, not doing this again.” Matt shook his head with a roll of his eyes, but huffed out an amused laugh all the same as he cleaned his hand on the shirt he'd just taken off while he headed for the bathroom this time.

Frank followed again with a loud laugh and caught up with him at the shower stall.

“Nah, no need. Now I know which one’s your favorite,” he whispered into Matt’s neck.

Despite the tiredness, a frisson of arousal still went through Matt. Frank’s voice just had this effect on him when he was using that low tone. He was still too tired for anything more, however.

“Don’t you go wearing it out now,” he smiled with one side of his mouth pulling up, as he turned to face Frank.

Frank chuckled and made a noise of understanding, kissing Matt briefly.

“I can always try finding new ones you like.”

But the way Frank said those words told Matt that Frank was about to go for another round of silly nicknames, so he pushed him away.

“That’s it. I’m showering on my own.”

Frank laughed, but thankfully remained quiet, which granted him access to the shower in the end.

#frank castle x matt murdock #fratt #frank castle #matt murdock #frankmatt #mattfrank #the punisher #daredevil #fratt fanfiction #fratt smut #frank caste fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #mes fics #inspired by fanart

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months ago

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A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week!

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you.

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat.

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger.

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.”

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion.

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.”

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly.

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled.

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.”

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped.

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily.

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.”

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him.

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress.

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

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souliebird · 1 year ago

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[[coffee maker || snippet]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Mexican! Reader // Matt x Fem!Mexican Reader x Frank Castle (implied)

Summary: Another snippet I wrote - the coffee maker broke.

Words: 1.2k

Matt wakes to faint cursing. It's coming from the kitchen, but it's like You're right there, saying it into his ears.

"No, not again, come on. Not today."

The coffee maker. You're fussing with the coffee maker. It's been abused to hell and back and it's on its last legs. You need to buy a new one. It's been on the list of things to do but you never get around to it.

It better work today or Matt's going to finally shatter it against the wall.

He knows it's not just him in a mood. He can hear your heart going too fast. Anxiety attack. Probably a nightmare. You don't wake him up when you get out of bed after a nightmare. Not anymore.

You've learned it doesn't help. You need time alone to clear your mind. He doesn't like it, he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the demons that plague your mind, but that's not how it works.

It's not how any of it works.

Matt rolls out of bed, snarling at the way the muscles in his back scream in protest.

His suit can only protect him so much from metal baseball bats.

He goes to the bathroom first. Rinses his mouth out of any lingering blood, then ends up in the main area.

There's no music playing. No news filling the silence.

Just you shaking the coffee maker, begging it to work. You're speaking Spanish now, so Matt knows it's a lost cause.

"Let me," he says, pushing the Devil out of his voice. But only out of his voice. He grabs the pot and sends it across the room.

"Matthew!" You're not angry. Concerned, but not angry. Never angry with him.

"Now we have to buy a new one," is his reasoning. It's not his only reason and you know that. He knows you know. You flinched at the noise, but no one likes the sound of shattering glass.

He wraps his arms around your middle from behind. You're stiff against him but he can hear your heart. Your lungs. There's a sigh and your heart calms just a fraction.

The Devil gives a pleased rumble in his chest. If he can direct the rage and swirling darkness in him into making his angel feel better, then things will be okay.

"I haven't found one I like, yet," You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's a coffee maker. If it makes coffee, I like it. "

You huff and you move. Your hands find his arms, smooth over his wrists. He knows the hints, tugs you firmer against his chest. Buries his face into your neck. The jungle that is your curls have been locked into a bun and he has full access. He presses his lips to your skin.

"I wanted a nice one."

Matt's heart pangs a little. Whatever his angel wants, you'll get.

"We'll go shopping today. You can take me to any department store you want."

You turn in his arms, looping your own around his neck. "It's Tuesday, mi amor. We have work."

Matt backs you against the counter. There's no fight and he wastes no time cupping your thighs and lifting you up so you're sitting.

"Call out."

"Matt. "

"Call out."

"Matthew. "

"Hey Siri, Call Foggy. "

"Matt, no. "

"Calling Foggy, " Your phone chimes, behind him on the counter.

You try to dive for the phone but he's faster. He snatches it off the counter and holds it up to his ear just as you wrap yourself around his back. You try to snag it from his hands, but he just keeps turning in place until Foggy answers the phone.

"Good morning, my Mexican Angel, please tell me you're calling because you're sending Matt with a basket of goodies and you want me to make sure he doesn't eat them all before he gets to the office."

The devil in him Growls, far too possessive at the moment. He keeps it at bay.

"That happened once, Foggy."

"You ate my pig, Murdock. I will never forgive you." There's a pause then, "Why are you calling from her phone? You're not coming in, are you? How hurt are you? Oh, God, do you need a cast?"

"I'm fine, Foggy," You make an upset noise against him and Matt knows he's not Fine, but he's not bleeding out so he's Fine.

"Then why aren't you coming in?"

Matt scowls at the phone. He wants to snap. Instead he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. You instantly give up trying to get your phone back and press yourself against him, your hand finding its way to his chest and stomach. The t-shirt you're wearing is too big to be yours. He knows it's Frank's, but it no longer smells like him. It's been run through their washer too many times.

He pulls his lips back, seeking out the scent of his other.

One of Frank’'s jackets hangs in the hallway and he can taste the metallic of the gun taped to his headboard.

The thing inside him curls around the feelings the objects invoke and he thinks about dragons curling around their hoard.

"We need a new coffee maker."

Matt doesn't know why he says it like that. Like it's an excuse to miss work.

But Foggy makes a sympathetic noise on the other end of the phone.

"Was it you or Frank?"

"... what?"

"There's a bet going, Murdock. Who finally offed it?"

"Foggy. "

"Ah, fuck it was you. God damn it. Karen! I owe you twenty dollars! Matt, you owe me twenty dollars. I was rooting for you."

Foggy hangs up and Matt doesn't know how to feel. He lowers the phone, lets you take it. You stay tucked against him as you tap at the device.

"I want to go out for breakfast," You say against him, resting your head on his shoulder. He hums in response. "Waffles and coffee. Fancy coffee."

"Of course."

Your phone vibrates in her hands and you’re back to texting. He turns his face to nose at your curls.

"Frank says he'll meet us there."

Matt and the Devil give a pleased hum. His girl always knows what he needs.

What you need.

You stay like that for a moment, holding each other before Matt lets himself push.

"Nonsensical or water?"

Your nightmares, the ones that leave you shaken like this, are either nonsensical (your own words) or about giant waves. You can't describe them, not in a way that makes sense to him, but you've given him that. It may be too much to ask still, but you heart is not jackrabbiting anymore.

You squirm against him. Matt takes it as a sign to push his hand up under your shirt, cup your soft sides and rub his thumb there.

"Waves." You admit and Matt tugs you even closer. He wants to absorb you into him. He wants to chase away your dreams. He'd fight them if he could.

But for now, he will do everything in his power to make you forget your nightmares - and today that means taking you to get the fanciest coffee maker you can afford. It might hurt his bank account, but making you smile, even for a moment, is worth every penny.

(and maybe he can get Frank to chip in on the cost)

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

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shiorimakibawrites · 1 year ago

Text

First Date (Part 13 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully. END ID.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem! Reader

Word Count: 8,465

Summary: You and Matt have your first date. Overlaps slightly with Anticipation.

Warning(s): Frank references and mentions of sex, Reader has a lot of impure thoughts, attempts at humor.

Can also be read on AO3

Series Masterlist can be found here.

First Date

You took a deep breath, steadied your grip on the cast iron skillet and the plate of your cake saver, and flipped. Gently you sat down the cake and carefully lifted the skillet. You smiled. The cake had come out perfect. It hadn’t fallen apart and none of the fruit topping had gotten stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Which was always satisfying. You put the cake aside to finish cooling.

You hoped that Nelson and Page liked their apology cake. You had done your best. You considered yourself a good home baker but there was always this little niggle of doubt whenever someone new was trying your food. Or you were testing a new recipe or recipe variation. This was a little mixture of both. Nelson and Page were almost new to your food, having only had your chocolate chip cookies. Well, you knew Page had eaten some of the cookies since she had complimented their taste. You were only assuming that Nelson had tried some too.

You had made pineapple upside down cake before but had made a minor tweak to your recipe to (hopefully) prevent the cake from being unpalatable to Matt. Yes, the cake wasn’t for him but there was a chance that Nelson and Page would decided that they couldn’t eat an entire cake by themselves and shared a slice with him.

As noted, the change was very minor. You had already switched your baking staples like flour to organic or something along those lines years ago. Fresh pineapple had been available but you were still a little tired from yesterday and were pretty sure that you would run out of steam before finishing the cake if you had to remove the rind, core, and attempt to cut a pineapple into more or less even slices. And all the whole pineapples had looked like more pineapple than you would need for the cake and while you liked pineapple, you could only eat so much of it. So you brought the canned sliced and crushed pineapple and hoped the label wasn’t lying about only containing fruit and juice. The actual change was in the maraschino cherries.

Previously you had used the cherries that was commonly available and inexpensive but your brother had thrown out that jar when he visited. He had gotten into mixing cocktails and very particular about the ingredients. And in his opinion, your maraschino cherries were trash that sullied the good name of maraschino cherries.

You rolled your eyes at the memory. Your brother could be a little dramatic.

He replaced the jar with one of his preferred types. They were dark red, almost black, instead the cartoonishly bright red of your old ones. The taste was more tart but when you compared the labels, the fancy cherries didn’t have food dyes and other such things in them. So fancy cherries it was to garnish this cake.

You hoped that his drama about cherries had paid off for you. Like his forgetting some of his clothes had already benefited you.

And now you were thinking about Matt’s arms. Again.

You glanced at the clock. It was a little after five. Nelson & Murdock was technically closed but you knew perfectly well that didn’t mean any of them were heading home. For one thing, even if they were calling it a day, there were things that would need to be taken care of first. Like closing out the point-of-sale or making sure things like their notes and other confidential information has been secured. For another, all of that research and writing wasn’t going to do itself and if they had been tied up in court or meetings most of the day . . .

Last but certainly not least, they were criminal defense attorneys. Arrests and/or interrogations weren’t restricted to normal business hours. Nelson had made sure that you were aware that if the police wanted to question you or worse, arrest you, that he didn’t care what time it was. Call him. Their answering service would re-direct the call to his or Matt’s personal phones if it was after hours. One of them would be there, just sit tight and keep your mouth shut until then.

Given your profession, he had to be aware that you likely already knew all that but you appreciated that he didn’t assume and make sure you were both on the same page.

You had intended to start baking as soon as you got home but your sister called you. You had immediately answered as soon as you heard her ringtone because the last time you had talked, Beth hadn’t been feeling well. Hearing her sound so happy when she returned your greeting was a welcome relief.

Turned out, she wasn’t sick at all. She was pregnant again. Which made her and her husband happy since they had been thinking of trying for another kid now that your nephew was almost five. According to your sister, your niece and nephew were already exited about their new sibling through you suspected your nephew was just glad that he wasn’t going to be the baby anymore.

The only downside to Beth being deliriously happy was that she always wanted to spread that happiness around. Which for you, meant asking if she could set you up. Again. Which no. You loved your sister but the men she had tried to set you up with . . . . well, you couldn’t say they were bad choices. They were good looking in that normal sort of way, had good jobs, and most had been decent people. You just hadn’t clicked with any of them. There was no spark.

You had tried seeing if the spark would grow over time but it never did. All trying did was hurt you and the man in question. And had been making you start to feel like there was something fundamentally wrong with you. So you had put your foot down. You appreciated her efforts but from now on, you would find your own dates.

You weren’t having much better much luck than your sister at finding your special someone . . . but maybe that had changed. You could hope.

Beth had given an excited squeal when you told her that you had met someone. She wanted to know everything. You had told her most of it. You left out the Daredevil thing for obvious reasons. While you didn’t shy away from the fact that you found Matt attractive, you kept the incredible horniness he inspired in you deliberately vague. Maybe other sisters shared the details about their sex lives or sexual fantasies with each other but that wasn’t your relationship with your sister.

Besides some of your fantasies about Matt involved the Daredevil thing. You wondered if he still had the black outfit he started out with. Because you already knew that as incredible as his ass looked in those grainy photographs of his current suit in the newspaper, it had looked even better in person. And considering how good he had looked as the Man in the Black in those grainy photographs . . . .

You shook your head and pushed away those thoughts. You’d think about that fantasy later. When you were sure that you’d have time to enjoy it.

You decided to check on Houdini. He was being suspiciously quiet.

Finding the cat took long enough that you were starting to wonder if he had sneaked out but then you spotted him sleeping on top of the fridge. You weren’t sure how you managed to miss him. All the appliances in this apartment were black and he was, after all, orange. Cute as he looked, curled up in one of those contortionists positions that cats apparently love to be in, you managed to resist the urge to pet him. It would wake him up and an awake Houdini was one looking for mischief. Or food.

You pulled out one of the meals you had made previously and frozen for dinner. Heating it in a saucepan on the stove took almost no brain power. Which was probably why your mind drifted back to Matt. Specifically his ass and how well it filled a pair of pants. Any pair of pants it would seem. The trousers for his lawyer suit, the red Daredevil armor, sweatpants . . . his ass looked incredible in them all. You bet he would look equally good in a pair of well-fitting jeans. And assuming he welcomed that sort of thing, if you would ever work up the courage to grab a handful. Or two. Probably would need two hands. His ass wasn’t small . . .

The phone ringing made you jump. Ringing with the ringtone you had assigned to Matt’s number. Of course, you had forgotten to take the phone with you into the kitchen so it was still sitting on your coffee table. You had to dash to answer it before it reached voicemail.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you, sounding cheerful like he was smiling. You hoped so. “What are you up to?”

Thinking about your ass while I make dinner was the honest answer but there was absolutely no way you were going to say that. “Oh, just heating some beef and mushrooms for dinner.”

“Sounds delicious,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come over and have some,” you offered. “I have plenty.”

“I would love to, sweetheart, but unfortunately we still need to finish some things before court tomorrow. Probably won’t be finished until it gets late.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to feel too disappointed. You had no reason. You had gotten an impromptu lunch date today. You were going on a date this Friday. And unless he was out when you dropped off the cake, you’d see him tomorrow.

“But I said that I would call you,” he continued. “Since I have a minute, I’m doing it now.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. You have would understood if he had forgotten. You had sometimes forgotten to return the calls of friends and family after getting very busy at work. You might have forgotten to return work calls if you hadn’t written yourself a reminder. Usually on a sticky note, bright pink to make it stand out from the yellow tabs and sticky notes used by the office.

But it was nice, not starting off this relationship with a broken promise. “I can let you go if you need to get back to work?”

“No need,” he said. “Foggy and I are taking a break for dinner. He just went to grab us some Chinese.”

“Doesn’t trust you to make the food run?” you asked.

“I was informed that my meal-retrieving privileges are suspended until further notice.”

You laughed and then said, “That’s fair.”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah, can’t blame him for that one. Do you like Italian?”

“Of course,” you said, giving your dinner a stir to make sure that it didn’t burn. “Why?”

“There is an Italian restaurant not far from my place,” he said. “Family-owned, it’s small but the food is really good. I was thinking of taking you there Friday.”

You smiled and answered, “That sounds wonderful.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I can meet you at your place and we can walk there. Does seven o’clock work for you?”

You did some mental math. Assuming you got off on time, that should give you enough to get back here, make sure Houdini was settled, and get ready.

“Seven should be good,” you said. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Likewise,” he said.

If he said anything after that, you didn’t hear it after you were startled by a loud thud and dropped your phone. You whirled around but it was just Houdini. Awake now and hopping off the top of the fridge onto the counter. You picked up your phone and before the phone got near your ear, you could hear Matt’s concerned voice.

“-heart, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine. I just dropped my phone when Houdini startled me.”

“That’s good,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Sorry if I scared you,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Houdini is sorry too,” you added.

“Is he?” Matt asked, a hint of amusement already creeping back into his tone.

“Probably not but I’m apologizing for him anyway.”

Matt chuckled.

Houdini apparently decided he wasn’t done scaring you. He walked across the counter and onto the stove, heading straight for the lit burner.

“No!” you yelled, grabbing the cat before he got too close and burned himself. He protested loudly as you lifted him up and squirmed. It was difficult not to drop the phone again. Houdini wasn’t fat but he was big enough that trying to hold him with one hand was awkward even when he wasn’t being a wiggle worm. You didn’t know how Matt managed not to drop him and climb the fire escape at the same time. Granted his hands were bigger than yours . . . and maybe ninjas have some kind of cat wrangling trick they are keeping from the rest of us . . .

“Sweetheart?” Matt interrupted your train of thought, sounding concerned again.

“Houdini decided he wanted to help me cook,” you explained.

“Wants add chef to his resume?”

“Maybe,” you said. Houdini meowed at you. He didn’t like that you were still holding him when he didn’t want to be held and paying more attention to your phone than him.

“Don’t meow me, mister, you know you aren’t allowed to walk on the stove,” you scolded the cat as you sat him on the floor. In typical cat fashion, he didn’t remain there for long. He immediately jumped into the counter and turned around to give you a look, his tail twitching. Silently daring to you to put him back on the floor. Knowing full well that he will jump right back up there, almost as soon as his paws hit the floor.

“I’m watching you, fluffy,” you warned the cat, picking up the spoon from where it had been hastily dropped onto counter. You had almost forgotten you were on the phone. Until the bark of laughter in your ear reminded you.

“Umm . . . sorry?” you said.

“For what?” he asked, still chuckling. “I already know that cat likes to be distracting.”

“It is his favorite game,” you agreed, stirring your dinner again before determining that it was hot enough and killing the heat. “Sorry for basically yelling in your ear.”

“It’s alright,” he said. Then he lowered his voice, “You don’t have to worry about getting loud, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”

Judging by the husky quality to his voice, he wasn’t talking about general conversational loudness. You felt your face get warm and heat began to gather between your legs.

“Good to know,” you managed to say.

He might have said more, might have gotten you even more worked up but you could just about hear the indistinct murmur of another voice from his side of the line.

“Be right there, Fogs,” he said, his voice a little distant like he had pulled away from the phone to answer his friend. “Hate to cut this short, sweetheart, but I have to get back to work.”

“No problem,” you said. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Yes, you will,” he said. This time you understand why he put so much emphasis on you. Apparently even when he is Daredevil, he couldn’t resist making jokes about being blind. Well, it was his secret identity and his disability. If anyone was allowed to be snarky about it, it was him.

“Get back to work, Mr. Smartass,” you ordered.

Matt laughed and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wonder of wonders, you actually managed to get off work on time. Opposing counsel hadn’t filed any motions with the court at the last minute to make sure you and the others had to spent this Friday night and maybe the rest of weekend responding to said motions. Jackson might have done it but Ms. Stahl thought he was being careful after his last stunt. The judge had not been amused by it. Classic literature had been quoted.

The first thing you did was give Houdini some attention. You thought he might be more inclined to forgive you for leaving him alone all night if he got spoiled a little first. And if something was going to completely covered in cat fur, it ought to be your work clothes instead of your date clothes. Through you would still probably have some fur on you. Cat fur was like glitter. It got everywhere, into everything.

When Houdini got bored with cuddling, you gave him an bigger than usual serving of his wet food. After you checked on his dry food and water, you did a quick run up the roof to check on your plants. Some of the sweet peppers were big enough to harvest. The basil and oregano looked almost big enough to harvest again. Maybe you would dry this batch. The tomatoes weren’t quite there yet. You picked the ripe peppers and returned to your apartment, stowing them in the fridge.

That done, you took a deep breath and started getting ready for your date. You were feeling nervous. Part of those nerves was your promise to wear a pair of Jo had named as slut panties and the knowledge that unless something interrupted you again, you would be having sex tonight. It had been awhile since you had sex with someone other than yourself.

But most of your nerves that you wanted this date to go well. Not just because Matt was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Or just because you wanted sex. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say those things didn’t matter to you but that weren’t the main reasons you wanted everything to go well. The main reason was that you really liked Matt.

He was smart. Witty. Charming. He made you laugh. He had an obvious temper and a lot of anger but was also compassionate enough to put himself in danger to protect others instead of ignoring their suffering. You had already seen that he could be very sweet. Gentle when that was what was needed.

You couldn’t say that you loved him. It was too soon for that. You didn’t really know him yet. But you could sense that the potential was there. That one day, it could be love. And maybe it was selfish but you wanted that.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Today had been rather hot and humid. You weren’t going on this date smelling like dried sweat. You would have showered for any date, especially after such a hot day, but Matt had a bloodhound nose. Which made it extra important. Thinking about his sense of smell, you had a moment of hesitation about using your usual products . . . the vanilla scent in the body wash and lotion or the coconut in your shampoo and conditioner wasn’t very strong but . . .

You reminded yourself that he hadn’t seemed to mind those scents before. He hadn’t sneezed or made excuses to cut your encounters short. He let you hug him and fell asleep on you. You assumed that if the smell bothered him, he wouldn’t do that. And when he commented on the scent of your body products at his office, he didn’t sound like he found them distasteful. In fact, after you rather embarrassingly compared yourself to a cookie, he had made some remark about liking to eat coconut macaroons . . .

There had been an implication there . . . one that matched the hints that Jo had teased you with from those rumors she wouldn’t tell you . . .

You pushed away those thoughts. Now was not the time. You were having a hard enough time keeping it in your pants around Matt as it was. No need to get yourself all worked up before he even got here. You might do something crazy. Like have your way with him in the elevator of your building. You focused your attention on getting yourself clean and giving your legs a quick overview with the razor.

Once you were satisfied that you were well-scrubbed, you dried yourself off and slathered on lotion, paying particular attention to your legs. Shaving was a hassle sometimes but you had to admit that you rather liked how your freshly shaved legs felt. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you headed toward your bedroom and the daunting task of figuring out what to wear.

You had been taught that dressing nicely for a date was just good manners. That Matt couldn’t see what you were wearing was irrelevant.

You decided to start with underwear since that was the most limited selection. And starting there would give your nerves about actually wearing the aforementioned slut panties the most time to settle. Jo would understand if you got too anxious to go through with it but you wanted to at least try.

You laid out your options on your bed and considered. One pair was easy to eliminate. Crotchless panties was closer to going without panties than you were comfortable with. You were almost certain that Jo had picked those purely to see you splutter at the outrageous suggestion. She had succeeded. But she had also brought out your stubborn streak and you bought them anyway.

The thong went into the no pile for similar reasons as the crotchless panties.

The last two pairs were the tamest. Being a very high-legged style, they looked like they would cover less than your usual panties. The front and crotch panels were solid but the rear panel was made of see-through lace. You knew that the see-through aspect held no appeal for Matt but you hoped that he might enjoy the texture of the lace itself. Jo had made a saucy remark about encouraging him to fondle your ass. And you had to admit that idea had a lot of appeal . . .

She cited similar logic for why you needed to buy the matching bras to the last two pairs of panties. ‘You don’t want him forgetting to give your tits some love. Besides, the second rule of being a slut is regardless of whether your lover takes it off or reaches under your shirt, what they find is either the sexy bra or your bare tits,’ was her exact words.

You strongly suspected that she was making these rules up as she went along. Regardless, she was persuasive. You had bought the bras.

The only difference between the two was their color. One was black. The other was dark red. It was almost the same shade of red as the Daredevil suit . . . and suddenly your mind was made up. You were wearing the red one. A little secret nod to his alter ego. Who you had, after all, met first. You would save the black set for another night.

One of your silk blouses was the same shade of dark red but you had worn it earlier this week. The other one, the one in scarlet, was clean but you didn’t want to overdo the red. You liked red well enough but it wasn’t your favorite color. Beth and Jo, at least, would question the sudden interest in the color if you started wearing it all the time. And you didn’t want them (or anyone else) making any Daredevil shaped conclusions. So you pulled out the one in teal.

You considered wearing slacks but you had been wearing those all week at the office. You wanted to wear something different. So you looked to your skirts. You had some very short ones – Jo again – but since you were going somewhere that might have children present, you opted for the longer ones. Black, light weight fabric, about knee length with a fluttery hem that produced a nice swish when you walked.

You decided to wear a pair of your slip-on flats. Jo would have worn what she liked to call her ‘fuck me pumps’ but Jo could run in high heels. You regularly tripped over your own feet. Consequently, you seldom risked wearing heels higher than an inch and half.

Despite your nerves about it, slipping on the slut panties was . . . . exciting. There was a certain thrill in being a little naughty. You knew your more old-fashioned relatives would say you were being very naughty. Planning to have premarital sex. Wearing the kind of underwear that you had once heard one of your aunts describe as the devil’s panties.

The memory made you laugh out loud. Your aunt had no idea. Here you were, about to go out with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself. While wearing the devil’s panties. You wondered what Matt would say about that . . . you snickered as you pulled on your skirt.

You couldn’t get your snickering under control until you finished dressing but you felt better. Looser, more relaxed. Guess you just needed a laugh. You went back to the bathroom to do your hair and make up with a spring in your step.

You had just finished tidying up the bathroom when you heard the intercom buzz. Your heart began to race with excitement. Please be Matt and not one of your neighbors accidentally locking themselves out. Again. You – barely – managed to restrain the urge to run to it. Walking normally and even managing to sound causal when you asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” said Matt. “Can you buzz me in?”

“Sure,” you said, reaching for the button to unlock the front door.

“Thanks. Be right with you.”

While you waited, you looked for Houdini. It was always a good idea to know where the cat was when the door was going to be opened. While the windows were his favorite escape route, he wasn’t adverse to darting out of the door when the opportunity arouse.

There he was, napping on the coffee table. Sprawled out on his side, his front paws wrapped around the strap of your purse, the rest of it under his body. Making sure you can’t leave without saying good-bye to him. He was too cute not to pet and this time you couldn’t resist. He made a little purring noise, nuzzling into your hand.

You kept petting Houdini while keeping an ear out for the knock on the door. It didn’t take long. Again, it took more willpower than was pretty to walk to the door instead of run.

“Hi,” you said as you opened the door. And felt your mouth go dry. Matt always looked good but tonight, he looked good enough to eat. Maroon polo shirt, just tight enough to emphasize the width of his shoulders and the large muscles of his upper arms but loose enough not to look painted on. That it left his forearms bare, with all of their muscles and dark hair, was just a bonus. None of the buttons had been done up so you also got a tantalizing hint of his broad chest. His thick thighs were encased in well-fitting black slacks. If his legs looked that good in those pants, his ass was going to be incredible . . .

You blamed his inherent sexiness for how long it took you to realize that his hands weren’t empty. In addition to the expected white cane in one hand, in the other was a bouquet of flowers. They looked like daisies except that they weren’t all white but blue, purple, pink, and yellow. You felt stunned. Had he gotten you flowers? You couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten you flowers . . .

“Hello sweetheart,” he greeted you, smiling. He held out the bouquet and said, “These are for you.”

“Me?” You repeated, feeling your heart flutter.

“For you,” he confirmed, his smile and voice going soft, gentle as spring rain. Your hands shook a little when you reached for the flowers, feeling almost like they would disappear if you actually touched them. But when your hands closed around the bouquet, they didn’t vanish.

“Thank you,” you said, cradling the flowers against your chest. “Come in while I get a vase.”

You stepped back to give him room to enter. Watching him walk into your living room, you discovered you were right. His ass did look incredible in those pants. So incredible it was almost criminal. Surely they caused car accidents. Because who could resist the urge to stare?

“My eyes are up here.”

Your head snapped up at his voice. Matt had his face turned toward you, over his shoulder, those pretty lips set in that smug little smirk. He was wearing his dark glasses so you couldn’t see his eyes but you would bet good money that they were sparkling with amusement. He knew you were staring at his ass. You didn’t know how he knew but he definitely knew. You felt your face heat.

Desperate for a distraction, you turned your attention to the flowers in your hands. It was a touching gesture, getting you flowers. And not the stereotypical roses. You didn’t dislike roses. They were pretty and they smelled nice without being cloyingly sweet. It was just everyone seemed to pick roses . . .

“Are these daisies?” you asked.

It was an obvious change of subject. Judging by that raised eyebrow, he was well aware what you were doing but apparently decided to be merciful and allow it.

“Asters,” he answered. “Daisies are toxic to cats. Or so says the internet. But I figured you rather be safe than sorry in this case.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. Houdini might occasionally dance on your last nerve but you loved him and would hate for him to get sick. Or worse.

“Florist said they come in a variety of colors but since I didn’t know which you would prefer, I told her to put in a little of each.”

“I like a little of each better than a single color,” you said. “It’s more dynamic that way.”

He nodded and said, “Good to know.”

You moved into your kitchen, carefully setting the flowers down on your small table, before starting to look for the vase. You had a nice one, a housewarming gift from your sister, but you hadn’t been using it much. So you had put it away and didn’t quite remember where you had stashed it. You were pretty sure it was somewhere in the kitchen, probably on the top shelves of these cabinets . . .

There it was, in the small cabinet above the fridge. You reached up to grab it and discovered that it was just far enough back to be out of range of your fingers. Not even on your tip-toes could you reach it. You sighed, dropped back flat on your feet, and turned to drag over your step-stool. Only to left out a startled yelp. You hadn’t realized that Matt had gotten that close.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, wearing that amused little smirk while you tried to convince your heart to stop racing.

“Bell,” you said firmly.

“Bell?” he repeated, his amused smirk only growing.

“Yes,” you said. Then, with as much as authority as you could muster, said, “All cats should have to wear bells.”

“Not a cat,” he countered.

“Ninja are classified as cats,” you said. “You are a ninja and therefore a cat. So you must wear a bell. It’s the law.”

“Is it?” He asked. “Haven’t come across that particular statute.”

“It’s from 1871 and admittedly it’s not as rigidly enforced today as it once was,” you said, feigning seriousness. “But it’s still on the books.”

“Houdini doesn’t seem to have a bell,” he observed.

“He has one. He takes his collar off,” you said.

“And you just let him get away with breaking the law like that?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “He hides it after he takes it off.”

Matt’s grin got even wider. “Does he? Same place everytime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Always a different location.”

“Quite the criminal mastermind you have.”

“Yes,” you said. “Good thing Daredevil is keeping him in check. Otherwise he might have taken over the city by now.”

Matt laughed, that delighted laugh that lit up his entire face and brought out those dimples. It was unbearably cute.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart,” he said once he got his amusement under control. “Houdini is a very tough opponent.”

Probably because he heard his name, Houdini gave a loud meow from the living room. Which just made you both laugh.

“Did you find your vase?” he asked after you both calmed down.

“Yes,” you said. “I just need to get my step-stool. It’s just out of my reach.”

“Or I could get it down for you,” he said.

“Or you could get it down for me,” you repeated. The asked, “You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, sweetheart,” he said. “Now where is this vase?”

In seconds you had your vase. After filling it with water, you arranged the colorful asters to your liking. After some consideration, you placed it in the middle of your small kitchen table. There was nowhere in your apartment where it would be completely safe from getting knocked over by your cat but in the kitchen, it had a chance. It wouldn’t last two minutes on your coffee table.

As it was, Houdini hopped onto the table and started giving the vase a thorough inspection. Something he always did to anything new or had been stored away for any length of time.

“Be a good cat,” you told him. “Don’t break anything. No wild parties.”

Houdini meowed as if saying no promises, human.

Judging by the little smile on Matt’s face, he found your little conversation with your cat amusing. You retrieved your purse, swung it onto your shoulder, then double-checked that you had your phone and your keys.

“Shall we?” Matt asked, holding out his free hand.

“We shall,” you agreed, managing to sound confident even as some of your earlier nerves threatened to return. Your hand trembled a little when you reached for his offered hand but it was steady by the time you actually slide your hand into his. Probably sensing your nerves, he gently squeezed your hand and pulled you close to his side. Then you walked out of the door and headed for the elevator.

At first you walked in silence , the only sounds between the ambient noises of the building and the tap-tap of his cane. But sometimes when you were nervous, you found silences uncomfortable and got chatty. Tonight was apparently one of those times.

“You look nice,” you said. “Maroon is a good color on you.”

“Thank you, I try,” he said. “I’ll have to take your word about the maroon. Well, yours as well as Foggy and Marci.”

“Foggy and Marci?” you asked.

“Foggy bought me this and a couple of other shirts in order to get me to wear, I quote, ‘something that isn’t black, navy, brown, or gray’ but Marci helped him picked them out. Said she didn’t want a repeat of ‘the mustard travesty.’”

“The mustard travesty?” you repeated.

“Apparently one of the shirts he bought me during college was ‘the color of Dijon mustard’ and Marci says that putting me in mustard is ‘a fashion crime against humanity.’”

You tried to picture that. You weren’t sure it was possible for Matt to look terrible but agreed that mustard probably wasn’t the best color choice for him.

“What are you wearing?” he asked as you pressed the button for the ground floor.

It was a reasonable question. But it reminded you of what you were wearing under those clothes. Which made you face feel a little warm.

“Oh nothing fancy, just a skirt and a blouse,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Matt tilted his head slightly to the side you were on. Like he was listening closely to you. You wondered why. “One of those silk blouses your sister got you?”

“Yes,” you said. “The teal one.”

“Not sure I remember what teal looks like,” he said.

“It’s a mixture of blue and green,” you said.

He made a little humming noise of acknowledgment. “Your skirt?”

“Black.”

“Is this skirt short?” he asked.

“No,” you answered. “Why?”

“Just curious about why asking about your outfit made you more nervous that you already were. Thought maybe you had worn something a little daring, something you don’t wear very often.”

“Like a skirt too short for the office?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Nope. No short skirts tonight,” you said.

“But you did wear something daring.”

You spluttered, the earlier warmth in your face increasing. “How did – ?”

“Know? I suspected when you didn’t deny wearing something daring, just that it wasn’t your skirt. I knew when you reacted like that,” he said.

He adopted a thoughtful look as he seemed to think out loud, “Wearing something daring . . . it’s not your skirt . . . you said your silk blouses were the same aside from their color and I know you wore another one to work earlier this week so not your blouse . . . that leaves something you didn’t or wouldn’t mention . . . like your underwear.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. The thoughtful playfulness on his face shifted into something hungry, almost predatory. That look stirred something within you, kindling that dormant fire between your legs back to life. Matt’s nostrils flared and the tip of his tongue swept across his lips. He let go of your hand in favor of snaking his arm around your shoulders. You let out a squeak as he pulled you against him.

Despite the hunger on his face, his hold was gentle. You could easily wriggle out of it if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be closer, wanted to press flush against his body.

“Am I right?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and rough. “Are you wearing something pretty for me under these clothes, sweetheart?”

The voice alone was enough to make you shudder but the sensation of his breath against your ear, teasing that sensitive spot on your neck, added fuel to the fire within you.

“Y-yes,” you answered. He rumbled, his hand starting to slide from your shoulder down your back . . .

The ding of the elevator as it reached the ground floor made you jump and hastily pull away, vaguely feeling like a teenager getting caught making out by their parents. The doors slide open and you stepped out into the lobby, Matt walking closely behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

Dinner, then maybe sex, you silently reminded yourself. Assuming he still wants to have sex with you by then.

You looked around for something to distract your mind away from the gutter and found it in the form of Mrs. Dudley standing by the mailboxes, collecting her mail. She was staring at Matt with narrowed eyes and a suspicious frown. You wondered if she had seen Matt leaving earlier this week, dressed in your brother’s sweatpants. Probably if the sneering glare she sent in your direction was any indication. She pointedly turned her back to you and beside you, Matt stiffened.

“Let me guess,” you whispered to him. “She’s muttering about me being a whore.”

“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”

“Mrs. Dudley is a very religious woman,” you explained. “I forget which specific branch of Protestant Christianity she subscribes to but the bottom line is that she has very strong opinions about premarital sex. She probably saw you leaving Sunday morning. And then she saw you with me . . .”

“And made assumptions about what we’ve been doing?” he injected.

“Got it in one,” you said. “I can see why Foggy pays you the big bucks.”

Matt chuckled, his body losing some of the tension. “Doesn’t it bother you? That she is talking about you like that?”

“A little,” you answered. “But I’m used to Mrs. Dudley thinking badly of me.”

“Why? You’re wonderful,” he objected.

“Flatterer,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at the sheer outrage in his voice. “Part of it is that she has meet Jo . . .”

“Who is Jo?” he interrupted.

“My best friend,” you answered. “She’s an investigative reporter for The Bulletin.”

“Joanna Meyer? Karen has mentioned her – said she wasn’t afraid to express her mind.”

You smiled. “That’s Jo. Like Mrs. Dudley, Jo also has very strong opinions about sex. Her opinion that as long as all parties involved are freely consenting adults, they can have as much sex as they want. In the world according to Jo, slut is a compliment.”

“I can see how she and Mrs. Dudley might clash.”

You nodded and then added, “And then shortly after I got him, Houdini dug up all of her petunias and used the pot as a litter box.”

The made Matt laugh. You giggled. It was funny now. It hadn’t been funny at the time. Again, the laughter eased your nerves. After you both got your amusement under control, Matt offered his hand again. This time your hand didn’t shake even a little bit when you slide your hand into his.

“So,” you said as you exited the building. “Which way are we going?”

He grinned as he turned you to head down the street and said, “The sighted being guide by the blind? That’s a switch.”

“I could take over guiding,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “Provided you are fine with ending up somewhere unexpected.”

“Oh? Like where?” he asked, playing along.

“Queens.”

He laughed, then asked, “How in the world would we end up all the way in Queens?”

You shrugged, feeling your face get a little warm with mild embarrassment. Then said, “You are underestimating my ability to get lost. I’ve gotten lost several times trying to navigating this city.”

“And found yourself in Queens?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “Learned that Spider-Man will give you directions if you ever find yourself lost in Queens.”

“Good to know,” Matt said, shaking his head with an amused little smile as the pair of you went around a corner. “But I seldom get lost enough to wind up in Queens by accident.”

“Know the streets like the back of your hand, do you?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Especially these streets. I’ve lived in Hell’s Kitchen nearly all of my life.”

“Is that why you set up shop here?” you asked.

He nodded, his face very serious. “Hell’s Kitchen isn’t perfect but it’s home. There are good people here that need someone in their corner.”

You had figured previously that Matt had to have a strong connection to this neighborhood in particular in order to appoint himself as its guardian angel. Or guardian devil, you supposed he would say. Personally, you thought angel was just as apt. Biblical angels, after all, were rather fearsome things.

“What about you? Where’s your hometown?” he asked.

“Don’t really have one,” you said. “I was born on the west coast but we moved around a lot.”

“Why?”

“My dad was in the military until I was in high school,” you explained. “When he retired, we moved to Florida because my mom is from there and she wanted to live closer to her sisters.”

Matt gave a little hum of understanding, then you walked in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke again, “We’re almost there. Allergi, on your right.”

You looked ahead and scanned the signs until you saw the one that had Allergi Italian Restaurant in cream white raised letters against a scarlet red background. It hung above a door painted in the same shade of red with cream accents between large windows. As you approached the door, your nose was filled with the warm scent of garlic, tomatoes, and herbs. You could see a few patrons through the windows and they looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Matt tried to let go of your hand when you got to the door but you squeezed his hand, unwilling to let his hand go yet. You opened the door for both of you. The rich smell of food was stronger now and it made your mouth water. The gentle murmur of conversation and soft laughter filled your ears as you walked together toward the podium.

The dark brown eyes of the teenage girl manning the podium lit up when she saw Matt and called out, “Nonna! Mr. Murdock is here!”

A woman appeared in the entrance to what you assumed was the kitchen. The wide smile that spread across her face was identical to the one on the teenager – you could tell they were related. She walked over as fast as her age allowed, throwing her arms around Matt once she got in range.

“Matteo, how lovely to see you again,” she said warmly.

“Hello, Mrs. Allergi,” he greeted, an equally warm smile on his face.

“Nonna, Matteo, call me Nonna,” she gently scolded him. “How many times do I have tell you?”

“At least once more, Mrs. Allergi,” he said, then introduced you.

“Welcome to Allergi’s, my dear,” she said. “Come, let me show you to your table.”

As you were lead to a small table, you took a quick look around. The walls were painted the same cream white as the outside sign and were decorated with lovely citiscapes framed in dark wood. You immediately recognized the ones of New York but you thought some of the others were Rome, Florence, Naples, and Venice. Some of the architecture of those cities was pretty distinctive. The same dark wood was repeated in the square tables and chairs arrayed around the restaurant. The cushions lined the seats of the chairs also echoed the sign as they were the same shade of scarlet red.

When you were seated at the table, the teenager set down a set of silverware wrapped in a red napkin, quietly making sure that Matt knew where she had sat down his silverware. She handed you both a menu before bouncing off to get you both some ice water to start off with. You wondered if you were ever that peppy when you were her age.

Mrs. Allergi returned to the kitchen after chiding Matt for missing Mass so often, her light tone making it clear that she was teasing him rather than actually lecturing him for not coming to church.

“So I assume you know the Allergis?” you said as you opened your menu.

“Pretty obvious?” he said, smiling.

“Just a little bit.”

“My dad was working as busboy for them as one of his part-time jobs when my accident happened. They were one of the few places that didn’t fire him for taking so much time off. They couldn’t take me in after . . . after . . . but Mrs. Allergi always asked how I was doing after Mass while I lived at St. Agnes. Then a couple of years ago, they ran into a little legal trouble . . .”

“My brother Eddy got arrested for robbery and murder,” the teenager interjected as she sat down your glasses and filled them with ice water. “Mr. Murdock saved him from Rikers.”

“I didn’t do anything special, Lucy,” Matt said. “The DA had no case . . .”

“Mr. Murdock saved him,” Lucy repeated with stars in her eyes. And a blush across her cheeks. You realized that this wasn’t just hero worship, she probably had a crush on Matt. “The public defender wanted him to take a deal . . .”

“Lucy!” Mrs. Allergi shouted from the entrance of the kitchen, beckoning to the girl.

The girl sighed, pouted a little, then called back, “Coming Nonna! Good night, Mr. Murdock.”

“Good night, Lucy,” Matt said as the girl turned and left.

“She has a crush on you,” you said in a low voice.

“I know,” he said, in an equally quiet voice. “She’ll move onto someone else sooner or later. In the meantime, I’m treating her like Candace.”

“Candace?” You asked.

“Foggy’s little sister.”

You made a humming sound of acknowledge, turning your attention to the menu. A lot of the dishes seemed to have two versions – Italian American and traditional Italian. In the end you decided to order the traditional version of fettuccine Alfredo as you had never had that version before and was curious. And it didn’t sound like something that would sent you into a food coma.

Because as much as you enjoyed literally sleeping with Matt, you were kinda of hoping to do more tonight.

You decided to opt for tea instead of any of the wines on offer for similar reasons. You didn’t want to be drowsy or Matt worrying about if you were actually saying yes to sex or it was just the wine talking . . .

Matt ordered the lasagna. While you waited for your meals, he entertained you with the story of how he first meet Foggy at Columbia. Which had you giggling. And also sympathizing with Foggy since you had a frequent bouts of no-filter-between-the-brain-and-the-mouth disease around Matt too.

Both dishes looked and smelled wonderful when they arrived at your table. While you couldn’t speak for Matt’s dish, your meal tasted even better than it smelled. Rich enough to practically melt in your mouth without being heavy. You might have gushed a little to Mrs. Allergi when she swung by the table to see how things were going. Which you think pleased her and she promised to pass the compliments onto her son Antonio who apparently helped with the.

Matt had this little smile on his face throughout the entire exchange and when Mrs. Allergi had left, all he said was, “You’re adorable.”

You felt your face warm and said, “I think you mean awkward.”

“No,” he said, still wearing that gentle smile. “I meant what I said. You’re adorable.”

“Adorable as someone with spontaneous utterances can be,” you said.

“I enjoy your spontaneous utterances,” he said.

“Why?” you asked. “Curious to know how much of my foot I can fit in my mouth?”

“Not quite,” he said then his smile turned coy. “Through I am curious about something along those lines.”

The warmth in your cheeks grew as your mind immediately went to the fantasies you had about about sucking Matt’s cock. You fought the urge to squirm in your chair as the heat between your legs once again flared to life.

This is a public place, you reminded yourself. There are children present.

You desperately tried to think of something besides sex. Spotting another couple sharing some of cake, you asked, “Do you want desert?”

“Mrs. Allergi always sends me home with tiramisu,” he said. “Would you like to go to my place and share it?”

The invitation was clear. As was the knowledge that you would sharing an entirely different kind of desert.

“Yes.”

Notes

I am already working on the next chapter. Which in my outline is almost entirely smut. I’m hoping to get it done faster than this chapter.

Again I had to make some decisions about general background and family for Reader. I tried to keep it as vague as possible given the circumstances.

Reader makes her pineapple upside down cake in a cast iron skillet because that’s how I was taught how to make them. In my dad’s skillet that is older than I am.

According to some of the legal podcasts I’ve listening to and lawyer blogs I’ve been lurking around, judges sometimes start quoting classic literature as a way of snarking at one of the parties when said party has gotten on their nerves in some fashion. This can be especially snarky when the remark was made in the footnotes.

Some of the veterinary websites I went said that daisies, among other flowers, are toxic to cats but that asters were safe. I’m not a vet so I cannot verify that one way or another. Besides asters are pretty.

The mustard thing was inspired by a photo of Charlie Cox at a recent con where he’s wearing a mustard-colored shirt . . . and well, I cannot say that Charlie looks terrible because he never looks terrible and maybe it’s the lighting but judging by those pictures, mustard isn’t his color.

Not kidding about the angels. The actual descriptions of them, especially in the Book of Enoch, are pretty wild . . . there is a good reason that their opening line is usually “Fear not.”

It is my understanding that nonna means grandmother in Italian but feel free to correct me.

Reader recognizing some of the Italian architecture is an artifact of my love for art.

I decided that Foggy gets to have both his TV show sibling of Theo and his comic book sibling of Candace.

The original fettuccine Alfredo did use the cream sauce found in the Italian-American version. From what I could find out, the original is the noodles cooked in butter and herbs, then tossed with freshly grated Parmesan cheese just before serving.

#daredevil #fan fic #the alley cat series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #ao3 link

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years ago

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For Once In My Life (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader) - Sinatra Series 6/9

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This one is a bit angsty, but it had to come sooner or later. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: Severely injured on patrol, Matt does something he prayed he would never have to do, and it changes the nature of your relationship forever.

Suggested Listening: For Once In My Life by Frank Sinatra

Warnings: Angst (canon typical violence, Matt getting really badly injured--bleeding and needing stitches, Sad Boi Murdock, confrontation, swearing) fluff (hurt comfort, snuggles)

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 2,141

It was all going so good. For once in his life, he had someone who needed him, someone who needed him back, someone who wanted him for who he is, not for what he could do for them. Someone who loved him for the plainest parts of his personality, and the more eccentric elements of his soul.

It’s his fault for thinking it could last. It’s his fault for thinking he wouldn’t mess up, that he wouldn’t be able to hurt you, that for once he wouldn’t be alone.

He always hurts the people he loves, no matter how hard he tries to prevent it.

Limping over rooftops, Matt stumbles on the top of your building, wheezing with each step, although he’s unsure if it’s from a stab wound on his side or one of his broken ribs. Working through the pain, he continues to move through the night, slumping down the fire escape as carefully as he can to get to your apartment. He’s relieved when he finds one of your windows open—you had mentioned that your radiator was on the fritz, and you’ve been needing to keep the windows open to get some relief from the heat that kept pouring in until your landlord got the part to fix it. Matt cringes when he hears how heavily his boots land on your floor, announcing his presence. Even worse, he feels a tightness in his chest when he hears you jolt awake, feeling how panicked you are from rooms away.

It kills Matt that he can hear the frantic beat of your heart as you slowly move out of your bedroom, down the short hall, and into the main living space with something heavy in your hand. You’re absolutely mortified by what you might find.

You’re afraid.

You’re afraid of him.

“What do you want?” you say with a steady voice even though everything in your anatomy says otherwise. “My boyfriend will be back with our dog any second.”

Matt tries to take a step toward you, to tell you not to worry, to tell you you’re safe. As he moves to speak, however, a wave of nausea and dizziness from his wounds work to kick out much of his remaining strength. His knees buckle, sending him tumbling down on your floor with a solid, heavy thud, pained moans escaping his body from the impact. He’s barely conscious, but he can hear you carefully move over to him, reaching for where you keep the cordless phone.

“Angel,” he breathes, feebly extending his hand outward. “Please.”

“Matt?” you whisper, dropping what’s in your hand, immediately recognizing his voice. A cast iron pan—that would have hurt. You bend down and slide off his mask, taking in a sharp, pained breath when you see his face, confirming that your ears weren’t tricking you. A worried sob escapes your lips as he wearily takes the phone from your hand and drops it on the floor.

“No calls, angel,” he begs, losing grip on his consciousness in the living room. “N-No calls . . .”

When Matt comes to, he’s lying in your bed as you stitch him up, his Devil Suit somewhere he doesn’t know.

“Thank you,” he breathes, wincing as you tighten the suture. You stay silent as you work, not acknowledging his expression of gratitude.

“It feels like I don’t know you,” you say as you move to a new wound on his abdomen, gingerly cleaning the surrounding area of the sticky blood before you carefully begin your stitch work.

“(Y/N), you know everything about me,” Matt says carefully.

You tie up the small cut, and he can hear you put the supplies away in the first aid kit, the rubber gloves snapping off of your hands. “I didn’t know this.”

Your words are flat, no bite or malice to the sentence. The flatness of your tone, the hollowness that rings in each syllable is like a knife to the chest for Matt. He would rather endure the process of getting the wounds that riddle his body than to hear you sound like that.

“I wanted to keep you safe,” he swallows, his mouth very dry. “I didn’t want people knowing . . . If you got hurt or worse because of me . . .” His face begins to contort with emotion, and he pinches his eyes shut, praying that the tears he feels in the corners of his eyes don’t slip out and roll down his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

Matt can hear you part your lips slightly as if you are going to say something, but instead you bring your lips back together before you get up and move out of your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. He desperately wants to move, to run after you and hold you, to apologize until there is no air left in his lungs, but his body is so worn and his heart hurts so much, he can only bring himself to cry himself to sleep in your bed.

When he wakes up engulfed in your scent and in a pair of his soft sweatpants, he thinks it was all just a terrible dream, that instead he spent the night at your place for a change, and you’ll be on your side of the mattress, soft snores falling from your open mouth. But unfortunately, the pain that radiates in his body and the tightness of his sutured skin tells him the nightmare he endured was all real.

Stifling a moan, he carefully gets up as to not undo your careful stitch work and bleed any more on your sheets than he already has. Now that Matt’s more awake, he can tell you’re in the kitchen, and he works to try and move through your home as carefully ask he can.

“You don’t need to sneak out of the window, you know,” you say as you reach into your fridge. “You left those clothes here, and I keep forgetting to bring them back to you. Your outfit from last night is in that bag by the coatrack. I patched it up the best I could, but, you might need to take it back to whoever made it for you.”

Matt doesn’t say a single word. He just stands in your hallway before he gingerly turns away.

“You can’t just do all of this and then be quiet, Matthew!” you say, your hands moving from your warm coffee mug to down on the counter with a slam. Your tone is difficult to decipher for Matt. You’re angry, but you don’t shout. Hurt, but your voice unwavering. Warm, but frigid—soft, but firm. It’s unnerving. “I deserve more than that.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear more from me,” he admits.

“Matt, cut the shit, please,” you beg, undercurrents of exhaustion in your words. “Do you know how much all of this is to take in? First, I thought I was going to die because someone broke in, and then I thought you were going to die on my floor last night. I thought I was going to—.” You stop your sentence midway through, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, pushing out the dark and dreary concerns that crept into your mind. “You kept a big part of your life from me, Matthew. It wasn’t a lie, but you weren’t honest.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“But I am.”

“I know you are, but stop saying it.” You abandon your coffee and walk through your apartment, coming to Matt’s side and bringing him to sit on the couch. “Explain everything to me. Please. I . . . I just want to know.”

You won’t ever look at me the same, he thinks. You’ll leave. You’ll break my heart. I’ll deserve it.

Despite the voice in his head, he starts from the very beginning with his accident.

And you just sit and listen, never once interrupting him. Your heart rate is steady, slightly elevated, but steady. The silence after he is finished rings loud in his ears, and if possible, he feels worse than he did last night.

This is it.

“So, every time someone lied, or was nervous, or whatever, you could hear their hearts? You could hear what people were saying in the privacy of a closed room, their homes?”

“Y-Yes,” he admits.

“Every bruise and cut that you said you got from tripping or walking into something, you got from—from what you do at night?”

He nods. You hate him.

“You could hear me the entire time? My heart, what I’d whisper to Karen or Foggy . . . All the times you were ‘surprised’ to see me . . . You knew everything?”

This is where you tell him goodbye.

“Yes,” he confesses dejectedly.

He’s just lost the most important person in his life. And he only has himself to blame.

“I’m sorry you went through this alone,” you say quietly after a deafening silence, your voice filled with something fair worse than the hollowness he heard earlier. It’s filled with despair. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

Whatever Matt was expecting you to say, this was the farthest thing from it.

“I’m upset,” you continue. “Frustrated, too. It’s a lot. I know why you didn’t tell me, but I wish you would have.”

“Can you forgive me?” Matt asks, his voice just above a whisper as he tries to meet your eyes with his, heavy with grief and doubt.

“I . . . I do forgive you, Matt. But please, don’t keep things like this from me. If I can help you, I want to. Just to think, all those nights where I could have patched you up, comforted you if the night was rough, just been there so you didn’t come home alone—.”

Matt’s heart shatters. Not from grief or pain, oh no. But from love. His heart is so full of it for you, he thinks it might kill him on your couch. He wraps his arms around you, pulling at his sutured wounds, melting into the feeling of your skin on his. His hands bunch up your hair as he buries his face into your neck.

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Matthew Murdock, you take that back,” you gently chastise, leaning back so you can wipe the tears that run down his cheeks. It sounds like you’re on the verge of tears as well. “You take that back right now, or I swear I’ll . . . Think of something that you won’t like, but you can’t go around saying things things like that or thinking those thoughts.”

He said it out loud.

“You deserve more than me and anything I can do for you. You deserve the world ten times over,” you continue. “And if we’re being completely honest, I’m not sure if I deserve you, Matt. I don’t know how you do it. You just give and give of yourself, and you never stop.”

Matt runs his fingers through your hair, your locks feeling like silk between his worn, raw fingers.

“You do the same thing, angel,” he says, his voice low. “Every day, you work to help and make things better in your own way. You make me better.”

“Well, guess what, Matty? You make me better, too.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you push his hair back to see his face better, every little line, bump, and bruise, taking in the fear, affection, and relief in his eyes. “Let me help you back to bed. You need to rest. Some of those cuts were pretty deep, and I don’t want you putting more strain on them than you already have—I don’t know how good my suturing skills are, so I’ll put down another towel.”

As you get up to do so, Matt takes your hand and pulls you back into him, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, letting it linger as he pulls back. With a smile, you peck another kiss to his lips and quickly put down one of your softest towels before coming back and carefully helping Matt stand up and make the short journey. You have him sit on the edge of the bed first, helping him lift his legs as he twists to sit on the mattress, carefully holding onto him as he lies down.

“I’ll be right here if you need anything, okay?” you assure him softly, kissing his forehead as you put your softest blanket on top of him so he can rest.

“Stay with me?” he asks softly as you bring the material up to his chest.

“Of course, Matty,” you tell him, moving to the other side of the bed to crawl in, snuggling into him carefully under the blanket, careful not to inflict any more pain than he’s already in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles@toozmanykids@dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

Sinatra Series Taglist: @darling-ghosts @seasonofthenerd @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars @pedrito-friskito @briefcasejuice @mindidjarin @1800-fight-me @saintmurd0ck @redheadpixie033 @mattmurdockstuff @djarintreble @bacatez @preciousbabypeter @aramora @vanessalovesonedirection @jelllycake @natashasotherhalf @ravenclaw617

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idgivemyeyesfor-mattmurdock · 2 years ago

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⋆⁺₊⋆ Chérie ⋆⁺₊⋆ Matt Murdock X Frank Castles sister

Summary: What happens when Mercedes Castle looses her brother and sister, all within a year? What happens when she tries to re-connect with Frank while, then, meeting an oh so familiar lawyer.

TW: DEATH, mentions of depression and suicide. Mentioned abuse, (if can get triggered by any of these subjects or subjects related. PLZ DO NOT READ. it is an ongoing theme.) Smut, but that will be later. ;) ;)

Wattpad Link for cast & playlist(s):

Chapter One:

⋆⁺₊⋆ Chérie ⋆⁺₊⋆

"They say this house is haunted

But all these ghosts I've grown with

As it slips away from me

I still hold on hopelessly

I lay my head to sleep and say goodnight"

- Holly Humberstone

Playlist Recommended for reading:

Oct 21st 3am

MERCEDES CASTLE WASN'T A BAD PERSON. She just wished she saw the world through rose pink tinted glasses.

It would have been nice if Mercedes thought that everyone was innocent until proven guilty. Rather than seeing innocence, she saw guilt until proven innocent.

It was a harsh way to see life, but god did give her charcoal gray tinted glasses. It wasn't her fault. Lord, did she want to take them off for one day. For one day, she hoped she would rip the glasses off and see people for the good they truly had inside.

Though sometimes god would let Mercedes take those glasses off, and when she did oh lord, did she see good. Christ, was she attracted to it.

When she saw goodness, grace, and hope— she wanted to bottle it up in a jar, put it on a shelf, and just take a look at it every day just to remind herself that it still existed.

As Mercedes drove her knuckles into the punching bag, she wondered what truly kept the world spinning.

Was it love? love was something that kept her afloat. Maybe some people, but love to Mercedes was like happiness. She didn't have it all the time.

If love didn't keep the world spinning, what was?

Well, it was grace.

As Mercedes watched her world move positively and negatively, she realized how grace affected it.

Grace and her's relationship was complicated because— grace kept Frank out of jail. But grace also forgave Billy when he murdered her sister.

Grace was there when god gave Yanelis a second chance at being happy, but grace wasn't there when Yanelis couldn't protect herself from hate.

Grace was there when Yanelis and frank were in the front lines, but, grace wasn't there for Maria, Lisa, and Frank Jr.

Good or bad, grace kept the world spinning.

Well, at least her world.

It was funny because being a detective she saw grace being tossed around to everybody. She saw it being given to murderers, adulterers, predators, the list goes on— Until it was needed, Grace was given to everyone.

Grace didn't go to her sister when she died a year ago.

Grace didn't go to her sister-in-law and nephews.

As Mercedes drives her foot into the scarlet plastic-covered bag, "Mama" by My Chemical romance plays in the background.

Silently, she whispered the lyrics to herself.

"Mama we all go to hell"

if Yanelis were alive, this wouldn't be happening. Instead, her and Mercedes would be binge-watching "Gilmore Girls" for the billionth time. Then after watching five or six episodes, Yanelis would play an old murder documentary and have Mercedes pinpoint everything wrong that was done, and why they didn't catch the murderer the night after. But instead, Yanelis was gone, and she was in an abandoned gym driving her knuckles into a plastic bag.

Frank didnt care. Maybe if he bothered he could be there with her— but, hell he was dealing with his problems. Frank didnt even show up to Yanelis Funeral. Instead, he showed up a week later at her tomb... what a guy right?

Frank was gone, murdering drug dealers off in hells kitchen and Yanelis was— Yaenlis was six feet under.

And then, Mercedes was just there.

This wasn't how their lives as siblings was supposed to go.

This wasn't the plan.

As Mercedes sweat falls down the curve of her forehead, the faint scent of lavender shampoo fades and its overcomes by the harsh scent of water, salt and blood— which fills the room entirely.

In a crime scene, its not really ideal to leave your blood on the premises, so she usually cleans equipment. hence, why a certain man has never noticed.

Crime had been low in Hells Kitchen. there was no need for a Daredevil, or a punisher. Now, the police were actually taking care of it. Sometimes Daredevil would be seen in alleyways but that was only if something truly needed to be taken care of.

Now, Daredevil spent his nights in fogwells, and his days in a law office.

The problem with Matt coming to Fogwells tonight was that rock music was played by millions of people at three o'clock in the morning, so her doing so wasn't something new.

As Matt placed his hands on the rusted doorknob, he listened for her heartbeat.

He heard the golden cross that was hung around her neck, bounce off her chest as she drove every punch and kick to the bag.

As he unlocked the door, he heard the muscles in her neck shift towards his direction.

A guy, great.

Matt didn't carry a cane, but by the time he entered the complex, he had already folded it. By the time he was up the stairs, the glasses that hung on the tip of his nose were in his duffle bag.

With the one glance she got, Mercedes noted:

Male: white, five-eleven athletic build- seen at fogwells gym at three o'clock in the morning.

Under the shadows she could tell this wasnt his first time here. Or, first time doing this.

As Matt sat down the duffle bag on a bench, he noted where he assumed the light was coming from. Though, three wasn't much light because it had been raining. So the light that radiated through the glass was more of a moonlight. He wouldn't want her to see his eyes, so he stayed within the shadows.

With another glance at Matt, Mercedes saw the silver cross that hung in the middle of his chest, the black tank top that gripped his torso, and the gray sweatpants that hung loosely down his legs. Though, as she looked down, she saw how his socks were carefully tucked into his pants.

As he walked closer towards Mercedes, the scent of fish and foil increased tremendously.

Though, with blood along her knuckles, she kept in contact with the bag.

"You're bleeding, aren't you?" Asked the man.

She looked back at him, and noted the bruises that nearly wrapped around his forearms.

Her eyes went back on the bag, and ignored him.

"You should probably stop."

His voice was raspy, something as if he had been yelling for too long... or maybe he hadn't spoken in a while.

she continued punching.

In a low tone, he said, "This is probably the best time to stop."

Matt heard her heartbeat calm, and her knuckles slowly retract from the bag.

As she paused, she stretched out her fingers and noticed the tissue that hung out of her knuckles, the tape that used to be wrapped around her knuckles was now only hanging on by a thread. as cold air slowly entered in her flesh, she silently cursed at herself.

she bit her lip as the pain registered in her brain, and then walked over to the phone, she squatted down and paused the music.

As she remained squatted, she looked over to where the man was and said, "Thanks."

she hoped he at least gave a slight grin, but from where he stood, she could only see his silhouette.

As she remained on the floor, she grabbed some leftover black tape and began wrapping her knuckles.

Matt heard her silently say, "fuck" as she wrapped her knuckles.

"Sorry, I knew that probably other people came here, I just... lost track of time... place is all yours."

As she tightened the tape around her knuckles, she said to the shadow:

"I'm Camilla" Usually when someone provided their name to a stranger, it made the other one feel comfortable around the other one.

Though, her electric heartbeat gave away her lie.

He nodded, and said, "Matthew."

Mercedes pressed her lips into a fine line and mumbled; "...Biblical"

"Yea well, I just dont go to church on easter, if thats what your insinuating."

She paused as she registered the tone of his voice. She noted how it reminded her of someone who she had heard of before. maybe at work?

"Never insinuated anything. Just noted that you could be named after a bible character. Just like how how you could have insinuated that i'm named after Prince Charles's mistress... just an observation.. nothing to be taken seriosly."

She continued to wrap the tape between her fingers.

"Were you?" asked Matt.

"Was I?"

"Named after Camilla?"

She took in a deep breath, her mind then traced for a story as to why her parents named her 'Camilla'.

"My dad had just broken the news to my mom that he had gotten another women pregnant... she didn't take he news very well, but she had my sister and she wanted my sister to have that experience of meeting her baby sister. So, when my mom and sister got to the hospital, my dads mistress asked my sister what her baby sisters name should be. after waiting a couple minutes, my sister couldn't think of anything that wasn't related to elmo, so my step mom said to my sister, 'why not Camilla?'. My sister liked the idea, but she just didn't know the meaning."

Matt heard her heartbeat escalate as every word flew out of her mouth.

Boy did she know how to lie.

"The meaning?" asked Matt as he began to walk over to the ring.

"Well, I broke the family. Just like Camilla."

He noticed her hadn't buzz as she finished tying the tape around her fingers.

"are, if you mind me asking— are you okay?"

Her eyes deviated from the tape at the thought of the question.

her eyes went back to the tape as she continued to wrap it, she replied; "I'm not a fan of lying."

"Me neither."

a moment passed as Mercedes contiuned to wrap her knuckles, slowly the aroma blood and sweat escaped, and the scent of salty tears entered....

The trim of her lash line clumped up her tears as the man said, "You dont have to answer."

from the showdown, she saw his knuckles. They were too also painted with blood.

His neck, which was bare from any bruise, had a stubble creeping from the mid of his neck, the up his jaw.

though his jaw was loose, it was— relaxed.

she read his lips.

Calm, but not bored.

She couldnt see his eyes, but from what she felt, she knew they were calm.

no pain circled them, and no creases were formed.

"You caught me on an off day."

Matt heard the tear drip down her cheek as he said, "if you come here, you probably have more of 'off months'"

the tips of her mouth curled as she thought: Its not like he's wrong.

as she went down on her knees, she unzipped her tote and took out a white cloth.

from the scent of the towel, Matt knew that the cloth had seen better days.

"it's been an 'off year'." She said as she began to wipe the bag.

"I'm listening."

she continued to wipe the bag, now noticing the amount of blood she shed in the time that she was there.

No wonder you're feeling dizzy

"Family... um, problems."

she contiuned to wipe down the bag and said, "...sister died about a year ago."

"I'm sorry." said Matt as his nose twitched at response to inhaling the scent of the room.

There was no indication that she was there, or had ever been there.

she wiped it perfectly, not a single implication that she was there.

No blood had dripped on the wooden floors, not even a drop of sweat.

All her sweat and blood stuck to her sports bra, which was made out of some material that rubbed against her skin so hard that now rashes were being formed on the sides of her back. those rashes made he muscles tense, but she'd been used to it.

"Since we're getting all 'forgive me father for I have sinned'.. Ikilled her. well," she paused and said, "I was the reason why she died."

he listened for her heartbeat.

a lie.

He heard her fingers tug the material of her short down, now they were covering a bruise she got from the bag.

"Couldnt get to her on time."

"your a nurse?" he asked.

"No, um, ex military, detective and psychologist sort of three in one deal"

He nodded as he crossed his arms around his abdomen and Mercedes said, "he wasnt treating her... right and I kept my mouth shut because-"

she thought about it: if that didn't say red flag, she didn't know what did.

"My sister um.. she had depression, an and i only saw her truly happy when she was with him. so, i—"

her eyes defocused, and soon her eyes were being covered by the palms of her hands.

In agony she continued saying, "didn't say anything" her voice was muffled. "then, he killed her."

she paused for a second, now her eyes were not aligned by tears but filled with them.

though her voice being covered by the palms of her hands, she said, "when you study to be a detective you're taught to not let your emotions get in the way of your judgement but i— i only saw my sister being happy so i didn't say anything.. and now, now, my sister—" she sighed, "she died because I didn't say anything."

his mind traced back to a year in time when he was crashing into a girl's apartment because he heard screams, but when he got there, that girl was dead.

Both of them didn't make it in time.

From experience after experience, Matt silently said to her, "dont kill yourself in attempt to bring her back to life."

"I killed her." she tugged at her lip and said, "for one year I've only heard one thing, 'Agent Ante, your sister has been murdered by one Billy Russo.'"

As she tried to continue, her voice became strained, "He killed her, and he's still out there— christ, he got innocent in the fucking courtroom!"

Tears overwhelmed her eyes as they began to fall down her cheeks.

"I couldn't save her." she said, "I. Killed.Her."

Her head shook, making the the curls that framed her face fly in different directions.

sweat fell from the strands and they dissolved in the air as she then said, "this is stupid, i'm talking to a stranger about my problems. sorry— I should be going."

"No." he said. He spoke softly, clamly, and steadily. "You put more tape on your knuckles, right?"

With hesitation, she responded. "...yea"

He replied, "well?"

As she wiped the tears away from her face, she said, "how do I know your not going to kill me?"

He bobbed his head from side to side and said, "Don't kill."

"Bullshit. How do I know that."

"The name, the cross--"

"Just because you have a cross around your neck doesn't mean I'm going to trust you. How can I trust you?" She walked over to the ring and slipped herself through the bands.

"Don't I look trustworthy?'" asked Matt as he did the same.

"Maybe." said Mercedes. As they both got into first position, "But, I can't judge because i haven't even seen you yet, because your doing some batman shit—" she swung at his jaw with her foot and said, "and standing in the shadows."

He laughed as they landed in opposite directions of the ring. However, he still stood in the shadow.

Fe felt the blood trickle in his jaw as she came back at him with quite a few more punches.

He slowly fought back. he noticed she was trained for combat.

He assumed by the way she fought, she wasn't just fighting to let steam out. she was there to train, or to maintain.

He noticed the way her legs hit his torso that they were not just muscular but built for one on one combat.

When her arms hit his chest, they were used to holding weapons, they were meant to kill, meant to hurt.

but then, she realized that when he maneuvered between his moves that he was trained as something other than for self-protection.

more like self preservation.

his body was trained to defy gravity, to slice, to torture in the most unexpected way. he fought almost as if a string were being attached from his head, though he was the one pulling it.

In the midst of slashing against one another, he pinned her down. He listened for her heartbeat but it was overcome by loud her breathing was. .

"You okay?" he asked. He slipped his hand around her waist, wrapped his arm around her troat, and pulled herself close to him.

"Never better," she said as she wrapped her hands around his head and slammed him down to the opposite side of the ring.

By the time his senses picked up her location, she was already on top of his torso, laying all her body weight on him, along with both of her hands pressed against his throat.

she visibly saw him lose air, concentration, sense.

She nodded his jaw tense, the sweat trip from his temples.

his forearms, now tense and fixated on her next move but, she let go, legs between each side of his shoulder, she stood up, and put her hand in front of him, "game?"

his body relaxed, his eyes now focused, his breath suddenly now on tempo.

He grabbed her hand but then kick her feet to which she was now on the ground and he was in the same position he was.

With a smirk and a buzz fro her heartbeat, he replied; "game."

It was in that moment where Mercedes realized that the guy whom she fought was daredevil.

#matt murderdock #matt murdock x reader #mattmurdock #ao3 marvel #mattmurdockxfemoc #mattmurdockxfem #mattmurdockfanfic #mattmurdockxreader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock #mattmurdockxfempoc

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42donotpanic · 1 year ago

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July Break Bingo 2023 - Masterlist

Prompts:

"I should've been better." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

"That's almost exactly the opposite of what I meant." : How you (don't) see me / HawkDevil (Clint Barton x Matt Murdock) / 3242 / Mature

Kink: Knife Play : Red (like your Blood) / Fratt (Frank Castle x Matt Murdock) / 2942 / Explicit / TW: Knife Play, Dom/Sub, Bondage

Terminal Illness / Hospitals / Stitches / Seizures / Wearing a Cast : Again, Matthew? / Clint Barton & Matt Murdock & Claire Temple / 2207 / Mature

"Don't Give me that look." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

"Get off of me." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

"Well, this is awkward..." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

Everyone Lives AU : I recognize myself in you / WinterHawk (Clint Barton & Bucky Barnes) / 5018 / Mature / TW: Eating Disorder

In Danger / Torture / Coughing up Blood / Cauterizing a Wound / Burned : Again, Matthew? / Clint Barton & Matt Murdock & Claire Temple / 2207 / Mature

Kissing in the Rain: Alt 4

Everyone thinks we're dating / Didn't know they were / Did they or Didn't they / Are we together? : Purple and Black / WinterHawk (Clint Barton & Bucky Barnes) / 2890 / General Audiences

Write a chapter for an old or abandoned work : Family / Chapter 2: Sad Family / Morgan Stark & Nate Barton / 993 / General Audiences

"Is this too tight?" - "No, it's good." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

"I should've seen it coming." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

Actor AU : Purple and Black / WinterHawk (Clint Barton & Bucky Barnes) / 2890 / General Audiences

Kink: Mutual Masturbation : As You Are / WinterHawk (Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes) / 4308 / Mature

"I didn't see that coming." : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

"Can't you read?" - "Do you have to be so insulting?" : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

Vandalizing Property / Being Arrested / Disobeying / Corporal Punishment : Alt 5

Pasing out from Pain / Being Knocked out / Fainting / Barely conscious : Again, Matthew? / Clint Barton & Matt Murdock & Claire Temple / 2207 / Mature

"Don't just stand there staring, find something to cover me up!" : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

Mutual Pining : As You Are / WinterHawk (Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes) / 4308 / Mature

Missing Scene : I recognize myself in you / WinterHawk (Clint Barton & Bucky Barnes) / 5018 / Mature / TW: Eating Disorder

Conveniently Common Kink : Red (like your Blood) / Fratt (Frank Castle x Matt Murdock) / 2942 / Explicit / TW: Knife Play, Dom/Sub, Bondage

Pirate AU : Up Here (x) / WinterHawk (Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes) / 367 + Art / General Audiences

Alternates:

Sudden feelings when a long time friend passes out with their head on their shoulder: / / /

Staying hidden to avoid being found out : / / /

Proposing at the same place they first met : / / /

Ignoring the signs of something inevitable : (Color)blind in a colored world / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 5924 / Mature

Seeking medical treatment after being raped: Ice cold Heart / Dumpsterbros (Clint Barton & Matt Murdock) / 4952 / Explicit / TW: Aftermath of Rape

@julybreakbingo

Badges:

#tw: rape #masterlist

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123passwort · 1 year ago

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Thank you for the tag @hannibals-favourite-meal 😘

3 ships: Fratt - Frank Caste x Matt Murdock

Wolfstar - Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Kotaloy- Aloy x Kotallo (Horizon Forbidden West)

First ship: Christina Yang & Owen Hunt (Grey´s Anatomy , before he became an emotional manipulating, toxic asshole)

Last song: Paralyzed by Colours in the streets feat. the Faim

Last film: Shrek 2

Currently reading: Bad monkeys by Matt Ruff

Currently Watching: Ray Donovan ; Gen V

Currently craving: Häagen Dazs Dulche de Leche , Mettbrötchen (german dish, basically just fresh minced pork with salt and pepper and raw onions slapped on a wheat bun , sounds gross tasts amazing! )

No pressure tags: @kazsrm67 , @spnexploration , @apocalypseornaw , @stressed-chaos , @spnhunter4life, @zepskies, @thatonewriter15, @nancymcl

and anybody who likes to join☺️

Thank you @venusintheblindspots-blog for the tag! Ily!😘🥰❤️

9 people to get to know you better:

Top 3 ships: Oh boy.. this is hard. I’m so picky with ships.

Abby X Crane (before the writers double downed on their racism and ruined the show. Now I can’t read anything for them anymore. ) Doug Renetti x Tina Lewis. (minx go watch it!! On starz now!!!!) Okoye x Attuma. (I was only mildly curious but there is like a whole community in thmblr for it and after one fic I’ve been hooked ever since.

First ship: Hades/Persephone

Pre lore Olympus. Not my time. Idk them.

Last song: La espera by ¿Teo?

Last Film: Triple Frontier

Currently reading : Dune Book series and Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

Currently watching: Freaks and Geeks, Key&Peele, and New Girl

Currently Craving: Chicken Tacos with a corn tortilla

@cityjacket @cinebration @cottonpuffmouse @xasement @gh0stsp1d3r @theeblackmedusa @megamindsecretlair @spacecowboyhotch @artemiseamoon

#tag game #get to know your mutuals #discovered cool new music books and movies through this

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madeleineengland · 6 years ago

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Charlie Cox on the heathbreaking Daredevil/Punisher moment

#charlie cox #netflix daredevil #marvel daredevil #daredevil #matt murdock #the punisher #punisher #frank castle #matt x frank #daredevil season 2 #daredevil cast #mcu #mcuedit #marvel mcu #mcufam

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marvelsgirl616 · 2 months ago

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ugh, they're so god DAMN fiiineee

#marvel #charlie cox #daredevil #netflix daredevil #matt murdock #frank castle #the punisher #jon bernthal #punisher #the punisher netflix #mcu cast #marvel cast #frank x matt #daredevil x punisher

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 3 years ago

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Stitches

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Summary: The reader gets a surprise visitor late at night.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (no glove, no love!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 BONUS

Finally got around to watching Daredevil & ever since I laid eyes on Frank I've had so much unholy thoughts about him. It's a bit long but I hope you guys enjoy it 😉

MASTERLIST

------

"Yes Matthew, I know Matthew, goodnight Matthew."

Chuckling I hung up the phone before Matt could get another slurred word across and shut the door to my apartment. The moonlight streamed into the open living space, casting shadows on the teak wooden flooring.

I had just retired from the Nelson and Murdock party of four night out on the town, swapping Foggy's talks of his lonely nights for a more relaxing settings. I need a shower, the smell of scotch stained my clothing all thanks to an idiot who spilled his drink all over me.

Dropping my bag on the sofa I shrugged off my coat and tossed it on the sofa as well. Stepping out of my heels I headed for the fridge for a beer. Yeah I know, I left a bar and my friends to come home to drink alone.

"Had a fun night?"

Startled I spun towards the dark living space, heart hammering away in my chest. My hand wrapped around the knife laying on the counter and the intruder's gruff voice filled the room.

"Oh come on sweetheart, put that down before you hurt yourself." I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Releasing a heavy sigh I moved to turn on the lights.

"What are you doing here Castle?" the wanted criminal was properly well seated on one of the chairs situated in the corner of the room. His face was beaten black and blue, scratches, a busted lip and blood covered his face. His shirt was torn and I'm pretty sure he was stabbed.

"I needed somewhere to lay low for a bit, thought I'd stop by, see a friendly face." Grunting he stood up, hand clutching his side confirming my suspicion on him being stabbed part.

"Plus I could use your help with this." Rolling my eyes I retreated to the kitchen, nearly downing my beer in one go. He really thinks that I am going to help him especially after his lovely visit last time.

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood to play nurse tonight. You should find a hospital, you're dripping blood all over my house."

"Oh damn, I was looking forward to you tending to my wounds with those tiny hands of yours." Frank took the bottle from my grasp and drank what was left in it, brown eyes never leaving mine once. Blood oozed from between his fingers that was pressing against his wound, dripping onto his steel tip boots and my floor.

"Take your shirt off and get on the couch." smirking he did as he was told, grunting I grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink and joined him.

"Why the pouty lips?" Ignoring him I took out the supplies I need and slipped on the pair of latex gloves. He laid back on the sofa giving me better access to stitch his wound up.

"Talk to me sweetheart, could really do with hearing that voice of yours." if he wasn't a homicidal asshole maybe, just maybe I could have tolerated him.

"Let's get one thing straight Frank, after I'm done stitching you up I want you gone. Do you understand?"

"Who else is going to stitch me up this good? The last one you did didn't even scar."

"Don't know and quite frankly I do not care as long as it's not me." I finished cleaning the wound and carefully bandaged it. Frank's eyes bored into skin as he watched me very closely, my skin heated up from the attention he was giving me.

Damn you Y/N

"There, all patched up. You are very capable of cleaning the cuts on your face, now get out." Scoffing, the bastard sat up not making any attempt to put his shirt back on his incredibly sculpted physique.

"I don't think so."

"Excuse me? You broke into my house demanding that I help you, which by the way, could get me arrested."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I didn't break anything to get in here. You should really move the spare key from under the doormat by the way."

Annoyed at the devishly handsome criminal I huffed, removing the gloves from my hands. I'm going to need more than beer to handle his stupid ass.

"I take it you had a crappy day at the office." Leaving him behind I collected the bottle of scotch and poured myself a drink.

"All thanks to the convict that escaped prison. The very convict my team and I tried so hard to keep out of prison. The same one that's laying on my couch currently." the burn of the alcohol felt good as it infiltrated my system. Heavy footsteps crossed the open space, his tall frame now mere meters away from me.

"Nice to know I'm keeping you on your toes."

"I'd rather be on my back." smirking he poured himself a drink. I shamelessly admired his broad chest and toned abdomen, taking note of the many scars that decorated his flesh.

"See something you like sweetheart?"

"Don't flatter yourself asshat, you might be handsome but you're still a psychopath who kills because it's fun." he winced as if my words physically hurt him.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you."

"Or what, you're going to shoot my brains out too?" in a quick second his large hand was wrapped around my throat, my back against the cold stainless steel refrigerator as he towered over me.

"I don't kill anyone that doesn't deserve it. I don't do this because it brings me joy but because those fuckers took my family away from me." my hands latched onto his forearm, somewhat afraid that he would choke the life out of me.

"You're an intelligent woman Y/N so if I were you, I would thread lightly." he let go of me leaving me to gasp for air, I should be utterly terrified for my life right now considering the fact that the Punisher himself had me in a chokehold but instead I'm insanely turned on.

Frank bit back his smile at your flustered state, you enjoyed that. He never pegged the shy lawyer's assistant that showed up during his time in the hospital for being into that sort of thing, yet here you are squirming under his intense gaze.

"Stay, leave, I don't fucking care anymore but whatever you do, make sure you're out of my life before eight tomorrow morning."

"Why, don't want your boyfriend to see me, sorry, my apologies, hear me, when he shows up at your door?"

"Unbelievable." bringing the bottle to my lips I tossed my head back, hoping that the liquor would drown out the intrusive sexual thoughts that invaded my mind.

"I'm not stupid, I saw the way you looked at him in the courtroom. Such a shame he's more into blondie." This time it was me who invaded the other's space, putting myself between him and the counter

"You don't get to do that."

"Do what, speak the truth?" leaning forward he caged me in, my butt pressing against the counter.

"You like him, he likes her, really it's his loss." his hot breath fanned against my neck, his nose brushed against my heated skin. At this point my body wasn't mine as it reacted to the slightest touches of his, my head tipped to the side exposing more of my neck.

"You infuriate me Castle."

"Really, because your body is saying otherwise." For a split second I forgot how to breathe at the feel of his lips on the column of my neck. His fingertips danced on top button of my blouse as he teasingly undid it.

I don't know if it's all the alcohol I've consumed or my desire to get laid but fuck it. I pulled his head back to crash my lips against his, immediately responding by deepening the kiss, tongue diving straight into my mouth. He lifted me onto the counter, ripping open my shirt.

My hands were all over him, his strong biceps, his stomach. I could faintly taste the blood from his lips and the scotch off his tongue, it was intoxicating. My hands rubbed his hard cock through his jeans eliciting a moan of approval from him.

His calloused hands hiked my pencil skirt up, bunching the material at the waist, exposing my underwear which was also quickly torn off my body. His lips left a trail of kisses as he made his way down my chest and stomach.

"Frank" he ran his finger through my wet folds, lightly brushing against my bundle of nerves. My hips bucked involuntarily needing more than his barely there touches.

"You're drenched sweetheart." lowering himself to his knees he pulled my ass to the edge of the counter, draping my legs over his shoulders. His eyes locked with mine as he started devouring me like a man starved.

"Shit" this was wrong on so many levels, he is a criminal, a homicidal criminal at that yet here he is with his head between my legs, licking and suckling on my cunt.

My hands pulled him closer grinding against him, desperate to get more friction. His thumb rubbed my clit sending my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he inserted two of his thick digits.

"Fuck...me." he chuckled at my state of bliss. It's been so long since he's talked to a woman far less had sex but once he saw her something in him changed. She cried out his name when his fingers hit that spot repeatedly and he mentally pat himself on the back.

"Frank, please."

"Please what sweetheart? Use those big girl words of yours." his cock was straining in his pants but he wanted to hear the words leave those perfect lips of yours.

"Please fuck me." all restraint he had left went out the window as he stood up, immediately undoing his pants letting it drop to his ankles together with his boxers. He jerked himself a couple times, admiring the way you were propped up on your elbows with your legs spread, putting your drenched cunt on display for him.

"I'm so glad he chose blondie, because he will never know what this feels like." he trusted his hips a couple times, teasing me while he coated himself in my juices before sliding into me.

"Oh fuck!"

"Shit"

He was bigger than anyone that I’ve ever been with, doesn't say much as I've only slept with three men in my lifetime. At first he started off slow for me to adjust to his size, that changed with one word.

"Harder."

Whatever restraint he had, snapped, as he pushed my thighs back to my stomach and started pounding into me. Looking down at where we're joined drew out the most vulgar and pornographic moans from me. He was hitting me in all the right places with each powerful snap of his hips.

"Right there, fuck!" laying back on the counter I took every ounce of pleasure he was giving me. The lewd sounds of skin slapping skin mixed with the sound of my juices coating his dick filled the apartment, turning me on even more than I already was.

"You look so good taking my cock sweetheart. I wonder what your friends would think if they saw you laying here on your counter, while a criminal fucked you senseless." he crashed our lips together, stilling his movements. I hooked my legs around his waist and he lifted me up, walking us back to the sofa.

"Ride me sweetheart, take what you want."

Frank slapped my ass as I started rocking my hips. Fixing myself on my feet to get better leverage I locked lips with him, bouncing on his cock. He guided my movements whispering dirty words into my ear.

"You feel so good around me sweetheart, take my cock just like that baby." My body was moving on its on accord as I rode him, chasing my sweet, sweet release.

He pulled down my bra, taking hold of my breasts, latching onto my nipple. The warmth of his mouth sent sensations through my body. I'm ruined, he ruined me for any man that would follow and part of him knows it.

His grunts and moans were music to my ears. He rocked my hips back and forth; I was so close and he was too.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart? You gonna make a mess on my cock?" he thrusted upwards, thumb stimulating my overly sensitive clit making me see stars.

"Come for me sweetheart."

With a cry of his name I came undone on his cock, legs shaking from the intensity of my orgasm. He thrusted into me a few more times before stilling completely, filling me with his release.

Breathless and tired I lowered myself to my knees, sitting on his lap, cock still buried in me. He nudged my head back, locking our lips together in a lazy kiss.

"I think I popped my stitches nurse." looking down at the bandage that was once white, I laughed. He definitely popped them, the soaking red bandage gave it away.

"You can't complain that it wasn't worth it though."

"Every damn second."

-----

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