#the whiskey daredevils

[krispyweiss]

Southern Culture on the Skids at Rumba Cafe, Columbus, Ohio, Oct. 9, 2023

Bespectacled drummer Dave Hartman is standing in a darkened corner of the stage, holding it down on a small kit and offering occasional backgrounds, but otherwise leaving the antics to his bandmates.

Standing the middle is guitarist/vocalist Rick Miller, in a jeans jacket and ball cap, sharing the emcee and vocal duties with bassist Mary Huff, she of big red hair and funky, heartshaped sunglasses. Huff puts on a show within a show, primping, leading clap- and sing-alongs and generally acting as Southern Culture on the Skids’ hype woman while Hartman remains steady and Miller cuts loose for 95 minutes.

It’s Oct. 9 at a sold-out, rammed-full Rumba Cafe in Columbus, Ohio, and SCOTS are doing what they’ve done for 40 years - churning out self-depreciating numbers such as “Liquored up and Lacquered Down,” “Daddy was a Preacher but Mama was a Go-Go Girl” and “Dirt Track Date” in a delicious admixture of hilarious lyrics and serious musicianship, showcased on instrumentals such as “Meximelt,” where Miller handles lead and rhythm, leaving no holes in SCOTS’ sound, even as he lifts his axe high and digs into a lowdown solo.

The band did its own changeover following a well-received punkabilly set from Ohio-based quartet the Whiskey Daredevils and immediately showed its love for Link Wray on the instrumental “Skullbucket.”

From there, it was classic SCOTS as the band dedicated “My House Has Wheels” to a concertgoer from Detroit, whom it met years ago during a strike against that city’s Free Press; performed “House of Bamboo” in celebration of Columbus’ long-closed Kahiki restaurant; and nodded to its North Carolina roots with “Too Much Pork for Just One Fork” and “Banana Puddin’.”

Yum.

Combining a love of rockabilly, surf music and straight rock ‘n’ roll with equal parts irreverence and earnestness, Southern Culture on the Skids is the rare band that can make such antics as inviting fans on stage to dance and toss fried chicken into the audience on “8 Piece Box” and delivering a no-jokes version of “Dear Mr. Fantasy” that finds Miller kneeling on stage coaxing Hendrixian notes and feedback from his guitar feel entirely congruent.

Grade card: Southern Culture on the Skids at Rumba Cafe - 10/9/23 - B+

10/10/23

[sgt-morgan]

* this barbie is lying*

I swear I’m writing, it’s just been impossible over the past couple months to do much. I miss y’all though! With that in mind, to get me back in the spirit, if y’all wanna hear about any of the characters in my master list, send me some asks! I’m hoping by having a goal in mind I’ll be able to kick the dust off my brain.

[blindfated]

@profanemouth

The Defenders (2017)

[vigilxnte-shit]

i want your midnights || matt murdock x reader

summary: you sleep better when matt is around, but the last thing you want is to make him choose between you and the city.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: NOT EDITED NOT EDITED AT ALL SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY also mentions of anxiety

a/n: based on my own insomnia as of late and also the fact that there is not a single member of the tuna team with a normal sleep schedule

this is an 18+ blog. minors dni. || masterlist

you didn’t know what time it was.

you knew it was dark, that it was raining, and that there was a slight, tugging tension in your arm where it rested under your pillow, bearing the weight of your head. you knew that the empty pillow next to yours felt smooth and empty and cold, that it faintly smelled of coffee and whiskey and, in a perfect world, would be cradling perfect chestnut waves and supporting the man you loved. 

but the world wasn’t perfect. it was dark, it was raining, and there was an intense, stifling lack of matthew murdock in your bed. 

you tossed and turned, shoved your head into the pile of pillows, snuggled with the sheets to get a whiff of his lingering cologne- nothing helped. he wasn’t the sheets or the pillows, he was actual warmth and the comfiest set of arms you’d ever been wrapped up in. he was real, he was yours, and he was out saving the world, just like he did every night.

you took some comfort in knowing that he was listening, that he was always leaving an ear open. he’d told you several times that on the more stressful nights, the evenings where the punches landed harder and the blood ran heavier, he’d look to you for respite. you liked to imagine it, exactly as he said- his gaze always veered up, in the direction of your apartment, seeking you out the same way he did god, zeroing in to listen to your heartbeat and your breath. to the one thing that brought him back to earth. you. the sounds of you living, not even conscious, just existing and waiting and his.

it was comforting to think about, but it wasn’t a substitute. you were still left matt-less, still alone. with an upset huff, you turned onto your back and stared at your dark void of a ceiling, your mind leading you to the morning. you wanted to bring this up with him. you wanted to talk it out, find a compromise and start spending your evenings in his arms, but that would leave out one very important detail that made matt, matt. that detail was this little thing called daredevil.

you knew it when you’d fallen in love, that daredevil came with matt murdock, and you knew you would never understand it. you’d had your experiences in double lives, one face with your parents and another with your friends, but you couldn’t even begin to fathom it on this level, the torment and anguish that the catholic felt for engaging the vigilante. you knew it was difficult, you knew it was important to him, and you knew that, whether you liked it or not, your heart belonged to the devil of hell’s kitchen just as much as it belonged to the lawyer fighting for justice- but that knowledge didn’t take away the anxiety, or the missing him, or the lonely nights. 

the emptiness of your ceiling made your mind envious as you went through the options. of course, you could call him- maybe it was a slower night, maybe he could call it early and come in from the rain to your arms. the longer you thought about it, though, the more that plan fell apart. you tried to save the burner he’d given you for emergencies; it had been used exactly once since you’d received it and only because he’d heard a fire alarm go off in your building. he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption, especially if it wasn’t a slower night. 

you could wait up for him, but that would upset him, too. he’d spent the past weeks begging you to try melatonin and offering to find you a therapist for the anxiety that plagued you, insisting that your rest was more important than him having someone waiting. him and his lawyer ways, of course, had tried to convince you that even falling asleep while waiting still counted, but you didn’t believe that. you knew if he climbed through that window bleeding and bruised only to find you sound asleep, he would never wake you up. he wouldn’t even consider it, and this was where the problem came to its head. 

you slept better with matt murdock next to you. that was a fact, plain and simple. no anxiety medications could replace that, no weighted blanket could make up for his arms. you slept your best when he was next to you, tangible and warm and smelling like the faintest hints of coffee and whiskey as he held you to his chest, and the nights that you got to experience that were paradise. and yet, you could never tell him that. you could never put that on him. he could choose between helping you sleep and protecting the city over your dead body, and you didn’t care how dramatic that sounded. you loved matt. you loved daredevil. you loved the devotion he held to his city, his ceaseless passion for keeping the streets as safe as he could, and you could never be cruel enough to ask him to choose between that and yourself. 

you forgot to blink with how you stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. you were stuck. you had no clue what to do, and you were only roused from your swirling brainstorm by the sound of the actual storm outside entering your window for the briefest of moments with its opening and immediate re-closing. 

“you should be asleep.” 

his voice was gruff, deep, just like always when he returned home- a bit hoarse from the tone he adopted, from the occasional yelled conversation. you could hear the rain dripping off of him, the way he lightened his steps in the boots he always wore so he didn’t seem like he was stomping. the little things, the details where your matty shone through the suit and armor. 

“can’t,” you answered. that was all you needed to say. you knew he could hear your heartbeat, pick up on your temperature and focus on your breathing. he was doing it now- the silence gave it away with the intense feeling of somehow being watched. 

“we’ve gotta get you in therapy, sweetheart,” he said softly. you heard his mask thud onto the bedside table, a gentle dropping sound accompanied with his softened footsteps before you felt his icy, rained-upon lips press your forehead. “i’m worried about how little you’re sleeping.” 

you answered with a low hum, finally turning onto your side. “are you at least coming to bed soon?” 

you loved how he looked, mask-less in his signature reds. he looked worn out and tired and accomplished for the night- that sparkle in his hazel eyes would fade in the shower as he pondered whether god was proud of him yet, but for now, you savored it. he smiled at you- a soft, affectionate little pull of his lips, followed by a nod. 

“let me go shower. i’ll be back in five.” 

he gave your hand a small squeeze. you returned it before nestling into your pillow. your eyes rested easier now, the pillow felt softer and the air felt warmer just from his presence. your eyelids became so heavy you had to close them, focusing on the sound of the running water and the slowing patter of the rain. 

matt was listening, too. he had been the whole night- it had been quieter, like you’d hoped, and he’d spent most of the night listening for you. he’d known you hadn’t slept, your heart rate spiking and sinking and back again, your breath too fast to be unconscious. 

that was why as he stood in the shower, hot water running down his back and rain still audible on the roof, he smiled. he had been monitoring you since his arrival home, listening with a feeling of pride as your heartbeat steadily decreased and your breathing became more even. 

you were nearly asleep when he came to join you, only roused slightly by the sudden feeling of his arms around you. you stretched and yawned, calling a soft “yeah?” as you adjusted. he just chuckled, squeezing you before kissing your cheek. 

“go to sleep. i’m right here.” 

your wordless response was to snuggle into his chest, that coffee cologne pushing it’s last, most faint notes to your nose with the warm backdrop of his embrace. you took less than a minute to fall to unconsciousness, your soft exhales brushing his chest and your forehead under his chin.

matt smiled to himself, his own eyes falling closed to the rhythmic melody of your heartbeat.

[fueledbysano]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍

who did you get? ♡

♱ ft. Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou

♱ content/warnings: slight nsfw, pure teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of smokimg, public display of affection, high sexual tension.

♱ a/n: I had Koko and Takeomi too but then I wanted to add Shin and Waka so ig I'll do that for another post

The night was dark and cold, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of cigars and whiskey. Bonten had gathered in one of their club penthouse properties for a night of celebration, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out into the night.

Everyone was particularly in a good mood, including their leader, who was in his element, surrounded by his friends and underlings. He had worked long and hard to build his criminal empire, and now he could finally kick back and relax, secure in the knowledge that he had everything running smoothly.

As the night wore on, and the alcohol continued to flow. They told jokes and stories that they would never admit to in the daylight, and they laughed at each other's misfortunes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for these hard-nosed executives, and they were all grateful to have each other to lean on.

As the night wore on, the alcohol began to flow freely. The men were feeling no pain, and the jokes and stories flew back and forth across the table. Until, Rindou suggested a drinking game, and the mood shifted.

He took out a spicy card game and took turns on picking one. They got…

˗ˏˋ Sanzu - lick ice cream off of the inner thigh of the player across you

The air was thick with anticipation as they waited for Sanzu to reveal his dare. And once he did, a hush fell over the group as they turned to look at you, who was sitting at the end of the table. Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you looked around your sides, figuring out if you were truly the one he picked.

The spontaneousness and spice of the dare had always been in Sanzu’s nature, but the man couldn’t help but feel his heart racing with excitement. He finally caught another reason to act his attraction towards you, with everyone else watching. When it was his turn to fulfill the dare, he took a deep breath and stood up from his seat. He could feel the rest of the group watching him as he made his way towards the woman.

The pinkette picked up a spoon and carefully scooped up some ice cream. He then made his way over to you, who was still blushing furiously, and leaned in close. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone held their breath, interested in seeing what would happen next.

And then, with a bold move, Sanzu knelt in between your legs and gently placed the spoon against your inner thigh, allowing the ice cream to melt and dribble onto the skin. You closed your eyes, anticipating the heat of his tongue meeting the icy sensation of the desert. And as you let it melt onto your skin, you could feel his pulse racing against his hands that kept your legs open.

The rest of the members are obviously enjoying themselves, sharing soft applauds to Sanzu and compliments to your body. Despite the initial embarrassment, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenalin as you watched the daredevil fulfill the bold request.

For just a brief moment, the world seemed to disappear, and it was just the two of you in your own private bubble. You could feel his breath in your core, his arms curled around your thighs, and for a moment, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had given you a hint that he wanted to go all the way with you, on your own time and space. The tip of his nose merely pressed against your clothed clit as he finished the last drop of ice cream in between your thighs.

Afterwards, when the group had moved on to the next dare, Sanzu could feel your eyes on him, and he knew that something had changed within you. He knew that he had finally taken the first step towards his attraction.

˗ˏˋ Mikey - Act out your favorite position

Tonight, he found himself in a situation that was foreign to him, one that he had never experienced for himself before. Physical affection was not something that he was used to initiate nor display to others. It was not a part of his nature. But he knew that he had to set aside his facade of being a tough and ruthless man, even if it was killing him inside.

He took a deep breath, then turned over to the woman in question. He wrapped his arm around you for a moment, pulling you close enough to whisper into your ear, “You remember it, yeah? What we did last time…” He was obviously flustered, but his actions showed otherwise with the way he assertively held your waist and pulled you close, your bodies touching until you gathered the courage to straddle Mikey into the cowgirl position.

Mikey’s choice of position came as a shock to everyone present. The members of the organization were used to seeing him as a ruthless leader, someone who was always in control and never showed any weakness or vulnerability. But in that moment, they saw a different side of him, one that was softer, and someone who was willing to push outside their comfort zone. Mikey, for his part, was surprised by his own actions, and was a little embarrassed by the attention he received. But he also felt a sense of relief, knowing that he didn't always have to be the tough and ruthless leader, that he could be himself, even if it was just for a moment for fun.

You were almost unable to move, having Mikey’s hands planted on your waist and slowly rocking you back and forth. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants, pleased to know that the feeling of excitement and arousal is mutual. Everyone was flustered and quiet as the scene unfolds in front of them, raising suspicions that this had happened before (which it has). You couldn’t take your eyes off of Mikey with the way he tried so hard to stifle a whimper, throwing his head to the edge of the couch as you moved.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the moment was over. The game had moved on, and Mikey was left sitting there, feeling a mix of emotions. A part of him wanted to hold on to that feeling, to explore it further and see where it might take him. But another part of him knew that he had a reputation to maintain, that he had to maintain his poise and composure for the rest of the night.

˗ˏˋ Kakucho — Passionately kiss the neck of the player on your left

He peeked as you drew this card, and he almost choked on his whiskey when Kakucho realized that he would be the one to receive the action from you. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want to.” You chuckled and prepared to pour shots as an alternative to the dare. “Where’s the fun in that? Go as long as you’d like.” Kakucho wouldn’t usually jump on something so daring on a normal day, but all the alcohol he’s consumed through the night definitely pushed him to encourage you. Sat in a manspread and arms spread over the couch, you sat on his right thigh and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He could feel the texture of your hair tickling the exposed skin of his chest, and the lingering scent of your perfume. He wanted to make a comment and praise how good you’re doing, but the words are stuck in his throat. You leaned forward, lips just inches away from Kakucho’s neck. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, finally feeling the soft texture of his skin on your lips. Kaku’s body tensed, his muscles clenched as he let out a moan. You pulled away for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the moment.

However, you weren’t satisfied with your first kiss before deciding to lean in once more. As you kissed him once again, you felt the warmth of his skin, the softness of his flesh, and the beating of his pulse under your lips. Seconds passed and you continued to enjoy the feeling of Kakucho’s body pressing against yours, feeling a sense of intimacy you didn’t think you had.

For the next few seconds, it seemed as though time had stopped altogether. The silence was punctuated only by the sound of his breathing and the hum of the card table's lights, with the occasional pour of liquor from the other members.

Kakucho tried so hard on pulling himself together with the way you sat on his lap, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair, whilst he bit on his other finger, making it obvious to the rest of them that he’d grown particularly fond of this dare that involved extreme physical contact with you.

Despite the rest being lost in their own thoughts, Rindou put his shot away before having to practically scold you. “Alright, that’s enough.” Just when it seemed the awkwardness would never end, you pulled away., almost forgetting that you were in the middle of a stupid drinking game.

Flustered and marked with your love bite, Kakucho opened his eyes to very intrigued colleagues and a cute sight of you still sat on his lap. The rest of the game continued without a hitch, and the group moved on to other activities. But your memories of the enjoyable dare between you and Kakucho stayed with your minds long after the card game ended.

˗ˏˋ Ran and Rindou – do a body shot

They “come in a package” Ran said… It would only add to the entertainment of the game (and the person) if they both do the dare. So when they drew “body shots” with you, they instantly knew what to do. As a devout guest to their exuberant parties, you could say that this dare was customary for the three of you.

Ran and Rindou nodded, their expressions thrilled. They knew that this dare was going to be one they would never forget, but they were determined to get through it with as much dignity as possible being in their workplace.

You easily undid the straps of your shirt, revealing your bralette to the entirety of your colleagues in the room before making yourself comfortable on the couch. Takeomi approached with two shot glasses for each of the brothers. The cool glass makes contact with the skin in between your cleavage, then on your navel.

“Bottoms up,” He kindly spoke before letting the two executives scurry to you like pigeons. With a deep breath, both brothers prepared themselves for what was to come. They knew it would be potentially embarrassing, but they were determined to complete the dare and show their colleagues just how much fun they can have at the regular Haitanis parties.

Ran propped his legs on either side of yours, supporting his weight on your thigh, careful not to spill the shot glass on your Navel. Rindou was already flushed, his eyes half-lidded and his lips pursed in a drunken pout. "Do you mind?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded at him, knowing what he was asking without having to explain himself. As you tilted your head back, Rindou leaned in closer to the shit glass on your cleavage, his lips hovering near yours. The two of you were nearly nose-to-nose, and for a moment, it felt like you were suspended in time, ready to be kissed by Spider-Man himself.

“Shot!” Sanzu spoke and simultaneously, Ran and Rindou each took the glass with their teeth and leaned their head for a shot.

The warmth of the alcohol trickled down their throats, and a drop of the fiery liquid trickled down Ran's chin and onto your thigh. You couldn't help but let out a soft gasp, the tickle of it making you squirm. The three of you were all tangled together, united in a moment of pure hedonism. It was a sight to behold, one that both excited and humbled you at the same time. And as you looked from one to the other, feeling the warm glow of the alcohol spreading through your body, you knew that this was the main event of your evening, in the thick of the action, with these two wildcards.

And though the memory of that dare would always be a part of their recollection of the night, they were proud of themselves for pulling it off so gracefully and fun.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Older

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: Angst, old grief, mild swearing Word Count: 564 Tag List: @loves0phelia , @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from. The Muse just went into angst mode for a little bit. Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist

Older

Now, it wasn’t entirely unusual for you to turn on the lights and find Matt already home. He never used them when it was just him. Sometimes he flicked them on when he heard you coming up but other times he didn’t. You think he enjoyed making you jump with a startled ‘Matthew!’ when you hit the switch and found him standing right you.

Not tonight. Tonight, you found him sitting on the couch with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. In one hand, he was holding a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t seem to have noticed your arrival, something that only increased your concern.

“Matty?” you asked. You had spoken softly but he still flinched like you had shouted. He lifted his head and you felt your concern turn to worry. His eyes were red, his cheeks stained with salt. He had been crying. “Matty, what’s wrong?”

He flinched again.

“D-don’t –,” he started, his voice thick with pain. “N-not that name. Please.”

“Okay,” you said, keeping your voice low. Sometimes when he was stressed, Matt experienced sensory spikes. Not always but that flinch implied this might be one of those times. Regardless, you tended to err on the side of caution. You came closer, torn between your desire to hug him and the knowledge that touch might be painful . . .

Qualms that Matt apparently didn’t share. He scooted over to the edge of the couch, dropping the whiskey bottle to the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t break. Just hit the wooden floor with a dull thud. Must have been the fancy one that Frank gave them as wedding present. This particular bottle had proven surprisingly resilient. But the bottle was put out of your mind in favor of the man wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your chest.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him against you more firmly. Then you slide one hand up to run your fingers through his hair. Matt usually found that soothing. Today was no exception. You felt some of the tension start to drain out of his muscles in his shoulders and back.

“Matt,” you said, lowering your voice even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“I doubt that,” you said, massaging his scalp with your fingertips. “I doubt that very much. Anything that upset you this much isn’t stupid. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that.”

A deep shuddering breath. “Today was my father’s birthday.”

You remembered. Matt had been a little melancholy this morning but he always was when Jack’s absence was especially painful. Like his or Matt’s birthday. The day Jack was killed. Holidays. The day of your wedding. You made a soft, encouraging sound.

“He should have been turning fifty-four this year. But he’s not. And I just . . . I just realized that I’m older than my father. I got to see thirty-three and he never did. Risk my neck almost every damn night and I’m alive. But he’s not. And it hurts.”

His voice broke on that last word and fresh tears begin to soak your shirt. You tightened your arms around him, wishing there was something you could say that could ease this pain. Anything that would make it all better. But there wasn’t. All you could do was hold him while he grieved.

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

frank castle/dare devil/djarin/joel miller/oberyn martell/agent whiskey/javier peña core … i’m sensing a theme in my taste in fictional men hmmmmm

no, you wanna fix him. i wanna fix him a drink after he beats someone half to death. we’re not the same.

[roseyreveries]

Journalism

Summary: You’re a journalist chasing the Daredevil story, hell-bent on uncovering his identity.

A/N: This was originally a Batman x reader fic I had saved in my drafts for a while, but I’m not all that into Batman anymore so I remastered it into being Daredevil x reader. Apologies if there are any discrepancies I may have missed <3

CW: injuries, blood, angst, sort of enemies to lovers?

Directory <- click!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The neon buzz of Hell’s Kitchen bled into the haze of cheap whiskey and crumpled notes spread before you on the bar. The Daredevil story wasn’t just a story—it was the story, the one that could finally yank you out of the shallow waters of clickbait articles and catapult you into headlines that mattered. But Hell’s Kitchen’s devil wasn’t making it easy. He moved like smoke, left chaos like a storm, and stayed maddeningly out of reach.

And then there was Matt Murdock.

The smug, blind lawyer with his disarming charm and infuriating habit of dodging your questions. Every time you brought Daredevil up, he’d flash that crooked smile, toss out a few words that said absolutely nothing, and leave you steaming. You knew he knew more than he let on—he was practically daring you to figure it out.

And, hell, you were close.

“Rough night?”

The voice slid through the din, smooth and calculated.

Your stomach tightened before you even turned. Speak of the devil.

Matt Murdock stood there, his red-tinted glasses catching the flicker of the neon sign outside. His tie hung loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to make him look more dangerous than approachable. He didn’t wait for an invitation, just slid onto the stool next to you like he owned the damn place.

“Murdock,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “What a surprise.”

He tilted his head, smirking in that way that made you want to smack it right off his face—or maybe wipe it off with your lips, depending on the day. Tonight, though, you weren’t in the mood.

“Surprise?” he echoed, his tone light but his words sharp. “Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

You set your pen down and turned to face him fully, your pulse thrumming. “Let me guess. You just happened to wander into this exact bar, at this exact time, knowing I’d be here?”

“I don’t need to guess,” he said casually, resting his elbow on the bar. “You scribble loud enough to wake the dead. Or maybe I just have a good sense of where trouble likes to settle.”

“Trouble? That what you call me now?” you shot back, arching a brow.

“I call it like I see it—or hear it, in my case.” His smirk deepened, and there was something wolfish about it.

Your grip on the glass tightened. “You’re awfully invested in what I’m doing, Murdock. Makes me wonder why.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’re chasing shadows in a city full of monsters. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get eaten alive.”

Your heart skipped, but you refused to let it show. “I can handle myself.”

“Maybe you can,” he said, his tone edging into something darker. “But Daredevil? He’s not the type to appreciate being stalked. He doesn’t take well to being cornered.”

There it was, the warning hidden behind his honeyed words. You met his gaze—or where you thought his gaze would be behind those glasses—and leaned closer. “Funny. You talk about him like you’ve had dinner together.”

He smiled again, slow and deliberate, as if you’d just given him exactly what he wanted. “You’d be surprised what a good listener can pick up. Something you should keep in mind, yeah?”

The air between you crackled, his words dripping with implication. You were sure now—he knew something, probably everything. But Matt Murdock wasn’t just a lawyer. He was a wall, and cracking him would take more than words.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence and lifting your glass. “I guess I’ll just have to keep digging. Trouble’s kind of my thing.”

His smile lingered, razor-sharp. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. Just don’t dig yourself too deep. Some holes are harder to climb out of than others.”

The fire escape creaked softly under your weight as you climbed, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. You heard from a sweet old lady who lived nearby that she’d see him standing here some nights. You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you followed the whisper of a lead to this rooftop, but as you pulled yourself up, your breath hitched.

There he was.

Daredevil.

He sat perched on the edge of the fire escape, one knee up, his red suit blending into the shadows like he belonged to the night itself. He didn’t move as you approached, didn’t even turn his head, but somehow you knew he was aware of you. His stillness felt like an acknowledgment, like he’d been waiting.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be here,” you said softly, pulling yourself fully onto the landing.

“I knew you’d come. Heard the elderly give her statement to you the other day,” he replied, his voice low, almost detached.

You paused, shivering under his cold, steady presence. “Then you know why I’m here.”

He tilted his head slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the mask, you felt the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “I know everything I need to about you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you forced yourself to steady your voice. “If you already know, then you know I need an interview. Just ten minutes of your time. That’s all I’m asking.”

He let out a quiet exhale, the kind that wasn’t quite a sigh but carried the weight of one. “No.”

You blinked, stunned at the finality of his tone. “What? You didn’t even think about it!”

“There’s nothing to think about,” he said, standing now, his movements fluid and effortless. He stepped closer, his boots landing softly on the metal grating. “You’re chasing a story you don’t fully understand, putting yourself in danger you’re not prepared for.”

You squared your shoulders, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I can handle myself. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I know what I’m risking.”

His jaw tightened, but his tone remained even. “You think you know. But you don’t. And you won’t—because I’m not giving you an interview.”

Your frustration boiled over, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Why not? You talk like you’re on some crusade to help people, but you won’t let them know who you really are. You hide in the shadows and leave everyone guessing while people like me try to tell the truth!”

His head turned slightly, the mask catching the faint glint of the city lights. “The truth?” he repeated, his voice soft but cutting. “The truth doesn’t change what I do. It doesn’t make people safer. All it does is make them targets.”

You faltered, the conviction in his tone slicing through your determination. He wasn’t just cold—he was certain, and that certainty rattled you.

“I…” you began, but the words died in your throat.

He turned back toward the edge of the fire escape, his posture rigid. “If you want to take a picture when I leave, go ahead. That’s all I’ll give you.”

Your heart sank at the finality in his voice. “That’s it? A picture? No words, no explanation?”

“No,” he said simply, the word dropping like a stone between you. “Because anything I say, anything I give you, will only pull you deeper into something you’re not ready for.”

Despite his coldness, there was something in his tone—a faint thread of concern that softened the blow just enough to sting.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly.

He paused for a moment, the silence stretching unbearably before he finally spoke. “Because people who get too close to me usually end up hurt.”

With that, he stepped onto the railing, his balance effortless, and turned back to you one last time. “Take your picture, if you want. But stay out of this. For your sake.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost, leaving you alone with your unanswered questions and a hollow ache in your chest.

The next few weeks turned into a twisted game, a dance you hadn’t signed up for but couldn’t seem to stop. Every time you got close to something—anything—Matt was there, slipping into your path with maddening precision. It was almost as if he wanted to frustrate you, to keep you chasing your tail.

One afternoon, as you stepped out of the courthouse with your notebook in hand, he appeared out of nowhere. His cane tapped lightly against the pavement, but the smirk on his face told you this wasn’t some random coincidence.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, falling into step beside you. “You’re here to dig up dirt on Daredevil’s last fight? Hoping for a juicy quote, maybe a headline?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at him. “Do you have a tracker on me or something?”

He chuckled, annoyingly unbothered. “You’re predictable,” he said with a shrug. “Same courthouse, same sources. You’re practically leaving breadcrumbs.”

“Funny,” you shot back, shoving your notebook into your bag. “You sound a lot like someone trying to cover his tracks. What are you doing here, Murdock? Hoping to throw me off again?”

“Throw you off?” His tone was playful, but there was an edge beneath it. “Why would I do that? I’m just here to offer my services. You need an interview, right? I’ve got some time.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Unless you’re Daredevil, you’re not the interview I need.”

His smile faltered. Just a fraction of a second, but you caught it. The mask he wore—figurative, for now—slipped, and in its place was something raw, unguarded. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to send your heart skittering.

“Careful,” he said quietly, his voice dipping low. “Throwing accusations like that could get you into trouble.”

“Is that a threat?” you challenged, stepping closer. You weren’t about to back down, not now, not when the tension between you felt like it was about to snap.

“Just an observation,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into another maddening smile. “You’re obsessed, you know that? This whole thing—chasing Daredevil—it’s consuming you.”

You scoffed, though his words landed harder than you wanted to admit. “I’m doing my job. If that makes you uncomfortable, maybe you’re the one who should be asking questions.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so desperate to figure him out.”

The proximity was unbearable—too close, too charged. His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling. You wanted to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but something in the way he looked at you—or didn’t look at you—kept you rooted to the spot.

“Why don’t you tell me?” you said, your voice quieter now, the fight in you mingling with something else entirely.

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one chasing ghosts.”

With that, he stepped back, his cane tapping the pavement as he turned to leave. You stared after him, your chest tight with a mix of fury, confusion, and something you didn’t want to name.

This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was war. And you weren’t about to lose.

The turning point came late one night, the kind of night where the city felt alive and malevolent, every shadow a threat.

You’d been following a lead, tailing a low-level thug rumored to have ties to Wilson Fisk. The alley stank of rot and desperation, but you stayed hidden, your camera ready to catch anything that might blow the Daredevil story wide open. And then all hell broke loose.

The thug had barely turned the corner when he was intercepted, the dark shape of Daredevil descending like a predator. The fight erupted fast and brutal—fists cracking against bone, bodies slamming into dumpsters. You stayed frozen, heart pounding, snapping photos as quietly as you could.

But chaos doesn’t care about quiet.

A thrown blade missed its mark, spinning wildly before burying itself in your shoulder. Pain exploded through you, a raw and burning shock that stole the breath from your lungs. You stumbled forward, your cry piercing the fray.

The fight stopped.

In an instant, Daredevil was on you, his presence like a force of nature—overwhelming and commanding. He caught you before you collapsed, his hands firm and steady despite the violence still radiating off him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice a rough growl that sent a chill through you.

Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on his face—or at least the mask that hid it. “Doing my job,” you bit out, clutching at the hilt of the blade. Pain ripped through you, and your knees buckled.

“Your job?” His voice was laced with anger, though it wasn’t clear if it was aimed at you or himself. “Your job is going to get you killed.”

“Yeah, well,” you gasped, teeth clenched against the agony, “newsflash—dying’s not in the budget this month.”

His jaw tightened beneath the mask. For a moment, he just looked at you, his head tilting slightly like he was listening to something you couldn’t hear. Then he cursed under his breath. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” you said, but your legs betrayed you as soon as you tried.

Without another word, he lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing. You swore, weakly pounding your fist against his chest. “I’m fine! I can—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re bleeding all over the place. Stop being stubborn.”

The world spun as he carried you, moving through the labyrinth of Hell’s Kitchen with a confidence that felt inhuman. The smell of incense hit you before you realized where he’d taken you: an abandoned church, its walls cracked with age and its air heavy with dust and decay.

He laid you down gently on a makeshift cot, his movements careful but unceremonious. Without a word, he pulled out a first aid kit and went to work, cutting away the fabric around your wound with swift precision.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his gloves peeling off and the sharp hiss you let out when the antiseptic hit your skin.

“You’re not going to scare me off,” you said finally, your voice shaky but defiant.

He paused, his hands hovering over your bandage, before letting out a low, humorless chuckle. “I’d be disappointed if you were that easy to scare.”

He finished wrapping your shoulder, his touch firm but not unkind. Then he leaned back, his masked face unreadable as he looked at you. “You shouldn’t have been there.”

“And you shouldn’t be running around in red tights picking fights with mob bosses,” you shot back, exhaustion dulling the sharp edge of your tone. “But here we are.”

For the first time, his head tilted toward you in something almost like amusement. “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?”

“Guess not,” you muttered, leaning back against the cot. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you refused to look away from him. “So, what now? You keep playing knight in shining armor, or are you finally going to tell me what the hell’s really going on in this city?”

He stood, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the flickering light of the church. “You want answers?” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Then stop putting yourself in the crossfire.”

He moved toward the door, pausing only to glance back at you. “Next time, I might not be there to save you.”

You lay there for a moment, watching Daredevil move toward the door, his silhouette framed by the soft, dying light of the church. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to let it go, to take the bandage and your bruised pride and call it a night. But you weren’t wired that way, and if you were going to end up in his world tonight, you sure as hell weren’t leaving without answers.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you called after him, your voice sharper than you intended.

He stopped mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to engage. After a moment, he turned back toward you, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doing what?”

“Showing up out of nowhere, pulling people out of danger, and then disappearing without giving me anything to work with,” you snapped. You propped yourself up on your good arm, glaring at him. “I’m not just some idiot with a camera, you know. I’ve been digging into this for months—years, even. I know there’s more to all of this than just a masked guy punching bad guys in alleys.”

His lips pressed into a thin line beneath the mask, and when he finally spoke, his voice was maddeningly calm. “What exactly do you want to know?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “For starters? Why Fisk’s men are running scared of you. What you’re trying to accomplish out there. Hell, who you even are!”

He stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he said evenly. “What matters is that people like Fisk don’t get to run this city unchecked.”

“That’s not an answer,” you shot back, frustration bubbling under your skin. “That’s a slogan. Try again.”

He tilted his head, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smirk. “What I do isn’t exactly something you put on a résumé, you know. It’s not about me—it’s about stopping people who think they’re untouchable.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the cot. “God, you’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that,” he said dryly, leaning down slightly.

You looked up, opening your mouth to fire off another retort, but the words caught in your throat when you realized just how close he was. He’d stepped into your space, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from him even through his suit. His gloved hand rested on the edge of the cot, his other hovering near your bandaged shoulder as if he were still checking on you.

Your breath hitched, the charged air between you crackling with something that wasn’t just frustration anymore. His head tilted slightly, his red-tinted lenses trained on you—or at least giving the impression that they were.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, barely above a whisper.

“Making sure you’re not going to pass out,” he replied, his voice lower, rougher.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the waver in your tone betrayed you.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he murmured, his lips quirking again.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re not helping, you know.”

“Not trying to,” he admitted, his voice dropping even lower, almost teasing.

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick and suffocating. Every part of you was hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his broad shoulders seemed to block out everything else in the room, the subtle flex of his jaw beneath the mask.

“This whole vague, mysterious act of yours?” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else. “It’s not going to work on me.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone unreadable.

You held his gaze—or at least where you thought his gaze would be. “Yeah. I’m not scared of you.”

He leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “You should be.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t move, didn’t look away, even though every nerve in your body screamed at you to.

The church was eerily quiet, the faint scent of old incense lingering in the air as Daredevil knelt beside you. The makeshift cot beneath you creaked softly as you shifted, wincing at the sharp, hot pain radiating from your shoulder.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice low but firm. His gloved hands worked quickly to gather what he needed—a bottle of antiseptic, gauze, scissors. The sound of his movements echoed faintly in the vast, empty space.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, biting back a hiss as the adrenaline began to wear off. “You’re not the one with a knife sticking out of your shoulder.”

He glanced at you—or at least turned his head slightly in your direction, the red lenses of his mask catching the faint glow of candlelight. “It’s out now,” he said flatly, his tone a little softer. “But it’s going to hurt worse before it gets better.”

You rolled your eyes, your lips quirking despite yourself. “Great bedside manner, really. You ever consider a career change?”

“Funny,” he replied dryly, reaching for the bottle of antiseptic. “Hold still. This is going to sting.”

You braced yourself, clenching your fists against the scratchy fabric of the cot as he poured the liquid onto a clean piece of gauze. When he pressed it to the wound, you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

His hand immediately came to rest on your good shoulder, grounding you. “Breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentler now. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his touch, even through the glove, sent a shiver down your spine. You focused on his voice, letting it pull you back from the edge of the pain.

“You’ve done this before,” you said after a moment, your voice shaky but laced with curiosity.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough. “More times than I’d like.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, your eyes darting to his face. Even under the mask, his presence was overwhelming—calm, steady, but with an undercurrent of something darker, something electric.

“Lucky,” he repeated, almost like he was testing the word. He tilted his head slightly as he worked, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his lips. “Most people wouldn’t call it that.”

“Well,” you said, biting back a grimace as he applied pressure to the wound, “I’m not most people.”

His hands stilled for just a moment, his head tilting again as if he were studying you—or listening to something only he could hear. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into yours. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the bandage, and it was impossible to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Is this part of the whole ‘devil-may-care’ act?” you asked, your voice a little too breathless.

He smirked, the curve of his lips just visible beneath the mask. “You tell me. Does it feel like an act?”

The question sent a rush of heat through you, and you hated how much he could rattle you with so little. “I think you enjoy this,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “The mystery, the danger. Keeping people guessing.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. His fingers lingered on your shoulder as he smoothed the bandage into place, and the light touch made your stomach twist. “But you’re not like the others. You don’t scare easy. You said it yourself.”

You scoffed, though the sound was shaky. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” he said, leaning back slightly to look at you.

Your eyes locked with his—or where you thought his eyes would be—and the air between you grew thick, charged with something you couldn’t name. His hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt far too intimate for the circumstances.

“You don’t make this easy,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not trying to,” he replied, and for the first time, there was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable beneath the cold, calculated edge.

The silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you both. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t bring yourself to break the moment.

His fingers lingered for just a second longer before he pulled away, standing with the smooth, effortless grace that always seemed to remind you how different he was.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone shifting back to something cooler, more composed. “Just… stay out of trouble for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Right. Because you’re so good at that yourself.”

He hesitated, his head tilting slightly as if he wanted to say something else. But instead, he turned, his cape shifting as he moved toward the shadows.

“Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer now. “You’ll need it.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the dim light, your heart pounding and your thoughts spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the wound in your shoulder.

After that night, something shifted. The line between Matt and Daredevil blurred in ways you didn’t expect, leaving you teetering on an edge you weren’t sure you wanted to cross. Matt had grown softer—not in the dismissive, charming way he used to handle you, but in a way that made him more frustrating. He deflected your questions as always, but there was something protective in his tone, something that suggested he was more invested than he’d ever admit.

And Daredevil? He was everywhere now. Sometimes just watching, sometimes stepping in when danger got too close, but always lingering just long enough to leave you questioning everything.

It was that same infuriating pattern that brought you to Matt’s apartment one stormy night, your resolve hardened by weeks of half-truths and unspoken tension. You weren’t leaving until you got the answers you’d fought so hard to piece together.

When Matt opened the door, his expression flickered with surprise before settling into something guarded. He stepped aside to let you in, his jaw tight as he shut the door behind you.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low.

“I figured it out,” you said, no preamble, no hesitation. The words spilled out like a challenge, filling the small space between you. “You’re Daredevil.”

The air seemed to still. Matt froze, his shoulders stiffening, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t deny it immediately, and that told you everything you needed to know.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, his voice a fraction too calm.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, a heady mix of pride and adrenaline thrumming in your veins. “Don’t I?” you shot back, your voice sharp but steady. “You’ve been stonewalling me since day one. You always know where I am, what I’m doing. And Daredevil? He’s too… you. The way he moves, the way he talks. You’re the most religious man I know and Daredevil took me to a church for gods sake. It all fits.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he turned his head slightly, as if trying to decide whether to keep arguing. “Stop,” he said quietly, his tone firm but strained. “If you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—then you’re in more danger than you realize.”

You let out a sharp laugh, the sound almost bitter. “Danger? You think that scares me? I don’t care about the danger, Matt. I care about the truth. I care about you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt, fear, frustration. He exhaled slowly, stepping closer, the space between you evaporating.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, lifting your chin defiantly. “But I’m asking anyway. Because if this is you, Matt… I can’t finish the story..”

His hand came up almost hesitantly, brushing against your cheek. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb lingered near your jaw, his head dipping slightly as if he couldn’t decide whether to move closer or pull away.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to meet his intensity.

And then the tension snapped.

The kiss was inevitable, a collision of frustration, need, and something deeper that neither of you could put into words. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that made your head spin, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You gripped his shirt, pulling him down to you as if the heat of his body could ground you in the chaos.

It was messy, frantic—his lips trailing fire down your jaw, your hands fisting in his shirt as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, but his expression was torn, the war inside him written all over his face.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained.

You swallowed hard, your heart still pounding in your chest. “No,” you agreed, your voice quiet but steady. “But it’s a start.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek one last time before he stepped back, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. And as you stood there, your breath catching in your throat, you realized just how deep you were in.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

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[guiltyasdave]

joel miller - series

fic recs masterlist - please check the tags and warnings on each fic! if you enjoyed a fic, please show the writer some love <3

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[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3151 (chapter 37)

Summary:

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

I think we cooked 👀👀 (minors do not interact!!)

37. bad idea, right?

"Can I touch your face?" Matt asks, still not letting go of your hand. "I want to at least imagine what you look like." 

"Yes." You say softly, barely above whisper. Matt gently places his fingers on your cheeks, feeling your skin become hotter under his touch. You involuntarily close your eyes, enjoying the moment, while his fingertips ghost over your forehead, along your hairline, touching your eyebrows and your closed eyelids, feeling the slight twitching when your eyes move. Matt's skin is warm, he softly grazes his fingers along your cheekbones, your nose, feeling the light bump in the middle, as if you had broken it long time ago. You feel your breath hitch when his thumbs slide along your jawline, stopping on your chin to lift it up by an inch, and his thumb finally draws a line along your lips, barely touching, but you feel like you're already on the cloud nine. 

"So beautiful." He mutters, not hurrying to take his hands off your face, on the contrary, he slides his fingers in your hair, pulling out your hair tie and slowly massaging your scalp. You've never felt like this before. He wasn't doing much, yet that was the most intimate moment with someone in your whole life. Making yourself to open your eyelids, you see Matt leaning closer to you than before, holding his breath. He looked like he was restraining himself, as if he was holding back, or tried not to hold onto you with his whole weight. Lips slightly parted, his Adam's apple moving every time he swallowed his saliva - this was the hottest sight you've ever laid your eyes on.

It was a game. A game of who will break first. The desire to pull him in for a suffocating kiss was becoming unbearable, and Matt knew this too. He decided to tease a little longer, get you so desperate for him that you wouldn't be able to take another breath without feeling his lips on yours. You two have already shared a couple of heated kisses, but now, he knew that this one will be different, maybe even better than the previous ones. Matt's fingers gently slide down your neck, over the hem of your blouse, and stop where the cut-out ends. Teasingly, his fingers trace back along the hem of your blouse, and find their place on your jawline. "Kiss me, Matt." You say, feeling your body arching into his touch on its own.

He doesn't delay any longer, diving to meet your lips already at half of the distance than it was before. The kiss, although it was mainly tongues and teeth clashing together, took your breath away. Your fingers slipped on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into your chest. Matt complies, still holding his whole weigh on the back of the sofa, his knee painfully pressing into your thigh, leaving the skin red upon the contact. As much as you don't want to pull away, you still do, breathing heavily, watching a cocky smirk on Matt's lips. There was no denying that he was driving you insane, but the sight of his lips, almost red and bruised from the kiss, your  kiss, almost sent you over the edge.

"You taste like beer." He breathes out, licking his lower lip seductively. "And whiskey." Matt can't say anything else because you kiss him again, still with urgency and desire, clouding his senses and lighting up a fire inside his body. His hands run along your body, tug at your jacket and you push yourself up, unsticking your back from the sofa. Jacket down somewhere on the ground, you were feeling on fire. You wished to be out of your clothes as soon as possible, but Matt still wanted to get you so worked up that you wouldn't be able to think of anything else but him.

"Matt.." you whisper, breath hitching as he peppers kisses on your neck, his fingers pulling your blouse down at the end of the cut out, until he feels your bra underneath. His left hand is slowly caressing your skin just above your knee, controlling his strength, because otherwise, he would let his fingers dig into your soft flesh. If he could, he'd mark you as his.

"I wanted this for so long." He says, pulling away from your neck, his nostrils filled with your sweet perfume, fingers clumsily trying to unbutton your silver blouse. You try to find a better position without breaking your back sitting sideways, and end up pressed deeper into the sofa, now lying with Matt making himself comfortable between your legs. Your skirt has ridden so far up that it doesn't function as such anymore.

"Oh yeah? How long?" You say between kisses, now much more slower than before, somehow full of depth. You just couldn't get enough of his lips.

Matt is halfway through unbuttoning your blouse, when he pulls you by your legs closer to him. "Since our second court. When you won." Goosebumps cover your skin when his hand gently rubs your bare thigh, sliding up further than before.

"Really?" You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer, yet not close enough for your lips to touch, and start unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you were weeping when you got home."

A smirk appears on Matt's face, "You were good, but not that  good."

"Cocky bastard." Your fingers quickly work out his buttons and soon Matt feels a light breeze dance on his stomach, your cold fingers touch his chest and abs. "Ripped cocky bastard."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Matt leans forward, suddenly thrusting his hips into yours, and you feel a moan leave your mouth.

"I got a nice reward for that case." You close your eyes when Matt dives to kiss your neck again, lips making their way to your breasts. "Hogarth gave me my office the same day."

"Really?" He asks between kisses, licking a stripe on your neck up till your jaw, hands finally opening your blouse and pushing it off your shoulders.

"Yeah. Somehow that month you were our number one enemies." You remain in a sitting position, still trapped between Matt's hips. 

"I honestly refuse to believe that." He hums lowly when you sit in his lap, pushing him into the back of the sofa and kissing his neck. Matt's hands find their place on your lower back, not so discreetly pushing you further into him.

"Hogarth and Benowitz were fuming everytime we got to know that you are on the opposing side." You arch your back when Matt starts unzipping your skirt. 

"Ha," he breathes out half of laugh when your hips start grinding on his, hands resting on his shoulders. "I'm a very good lawyer then."

"Don't forget..." You lean closer, lips touching his earlobe, "I've won more times than you." Matt's breath hitches when your hand slides between your pressed bodies, and touches his hard on. 

"Y/n-" His body chases your touch, giving you control, and you make work of his belt, hurrying to unzip his pants before he takes the reigns again. "Let me just-"

"Matt, shut up." You push him into the sofa using minimum strength, your tongue invading his mouth and he misses the moment your hands free him from his trousers and you begin grinding on him again, underwear providing at least a half of pleasure that you'd want. "I wanted this since we went to Josie's the first time." Breathing heavily, you bite your lip to prevent another moan from leaving your mouth, instead, Matt takes his turn and a filthy groan leaves his mouth, the sound going straight to your core. "You were so desperate to talk about the case, I was sure it was more than that."

Matt smirks, swiftly laying you down, so now he was in control again. You try to shimmy out of your skirt while Matt rips the shirt off his body and throws it somewhere behind the sofa. His hands stop yours and he finishes the job for you. "Well, Miss y/l/n, you weren't wrong. I wanted to have you all for myself that evening."

"You have me now." You gasp and immediately grab his arm when he brushes his fingers on your panties, feeling how wet you got from his touch. Matt continues his actions a few more times, until he pulls your panties to the side and you almost cum from the sight of him licking his ring and middle fingers, surely enough already tasting you, but then he slowly pushes them inside you, making you gasp loudly at this new feeling. His eyebrows knit together, feeling how tightly your pussy was squeezing his fingers, almost throbbing at the contact. You try to lean on your elbows, try to watch how his fingers disappear inside of you, making your muscles tense and mind race ten times faster. Your hips chase his fingers when he pulls them out, quickly unclasping your bra with his free hand and his fingers, that had just been inside of you, still wet, harshly brush on your breast, trapping your nipple in the middle. Without any warning, Matt dives in, sucking the wet nipple. You moan again, trying your best to keep your mind in place. Being drunk and horny wasn't the best combination, especially when you were lying under the man you desired for a long time. "I need you... in me." You breathe out, and Matt pulls away, leaving your nipple and you waiting for more.

"You sure?" He asks, so painfully hard, that he had to restrain himself from ripping your panties out of his way.

"Yes, Matt, yes." 

He jumps out of bed, getting out of his pants as quick as possible, and while you get rid of your panties, you notice him taking out a condom out of his pocket. How long has he been carrying that? Your question remains unanswered when Matt returns to the previous spot, now both fully naked in front of each other, and the anticipation is almost driving you over the edge. With burning eyes, you watch him stroke himself a couple of times before pulling on the condom. You know that he wants to ask something again, you can feel the question hanging in the air, but you decide to speed things up and when the tip of his penis brushes on your folds and stops right at the entrance of your vagina, you push him all the way into you with your heels, and the mutual groan sends shockwaves through your body. You felt so full at this moment, trying to savour the feeling of your bodies finally connected.

"So tight..." Matt  grits out through his teeth, "...so good." He finally starts moving, at first, agonizingly slow, but quickly picking up a pace. You only manage to grab his back, letting your nails to dig into the muscles, as well as push him closer to you, clashing your lips together, because finally, he left you speechless.

The pace that Matt finally has set was already making you see stars. You two were panting like you've just ran a marathon, and you were pretty sure that his neighbours will file a noise complaint from the way you couldn't stop the sounds from leaving your mouth. Matt burried his head deep into your neck, biting your shoulder slightly, but sure that it would leave a mark. Everything about this moment was so filthy yet so sacred for him, and even if he felt that he was still a little bit tipsy, the alcohol didn't have the same effect on him that you did. He couldn't remember the last time it felt so good to have sex with someone, let alone enjoy their company, but with you it was different. Your nails, painfully digging into his back, your short breaths that were leaving your mouth every time he pushed himself into you, and the moans of his name, muttered into his ear - everything combined almost made him cum as fast a virgin.

"Matt, I'm so close." You whisper, eyes tightly closed, losing control over your body, when you feel Matt quickening the pace, although the movements of his hips were becoming sloppier and sloppier with each thrust.

He pulls away from your shoulder, resting his forehead on yours, his hot breath mixing with yours, and you arch your back into him again, when Matt slides his hand between your bodies, his fingers frantically rubbing your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment, orgasm overtaking your body, legs shaking with force you didn't know you could experience.

Matt groans loudly, whispering your name like a mantra when, shaken by the orgasm, you squeeze him tightly, and he cums in the condom, still inside you.

"Matt, fuck." You manage to say while he continues to move inside, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

He lets his body fall onto yours, pulling out, and you hiss at the loss of contact, only now feeling how oversensitive you've just become. "Am I squeezing you?" Matt asks, lifting his head from your chest, and gently brushing the hair off your forehead. Only now you notice how sweaty you were, hair sticking to your forehead. Matt's stubble brushes on your cleavage, creating an itchy spot.

"No." You exhale, hugging him close to your body, and you can't stop yourself from kissing his face, his cheeks and his full pink lips. You just couldn't get enough of him.

I don't want this to end. That's what he wanted to say, to scream at the top of his lungs, yet only a soft hum left his lips. "Stay?" He suddenly asks, and you feel your legs giving up, somehow this being more intimate than what you just did minutes ago.

"You sure?" You ask, slowly grazing your fingers on his bicep.

"Yeah. You can sleep in my bed." His nose  makes circles on your chest, along with short pecks from time to time.

"Are you gonna be there too?" You laugh slightly, pulling him in for another slow kiss.

"Wouldn't miss this chance." Matt smiles, making your heart swell at the sight of his disheveled hair and a lazy look on his face.

***

You stay the night, waking up when the early morning light breaks through the window of Matt's bedroom. First, you feel your head pounding, as if someone was continuously smashing plates beside your ear. The feeling makes you want to groan loudly, but the arm draped over your stomach prevents you from making any sound. Without turning your body, you look at Matt, sleeping beside you peacefully. He looked so handsome when he wasn't worrying about anything. Then it finally dawns on you - you had sex with Matt. And hell, it was so good...

You find your phone under the pillow, looking at the time. Almost seven. Unconsciously, your hands open messages and in a blink, you're already texting Pug.

You: oh my god

You: shit. We had sex

Pug texts back almost immediately, sending a couple of messages at the same time.

Pug: what? Who's we??

You: Matt and I

Pug: The Matt? Your boss?

You don't answer right away and almost drop your phone on your face when Pug starts calling, only managing to turn off the sound without waking up Matt.

You: DUDE

You: Im at his apt!!

Pug: oH. Well shit, you two finally got laid

You: what you mean by finally??

Pug: cmon we both know it had to happen sooner or later. But wait how did it happen?

You: im so hungover now.

You: long story. Maybe when we meet ill tell

Pug: hey not fair! He's still sleeping?

You steal another glance at Matt, but then he presses you into him, nuzzling his nose into your neck, almost making you shiver. Stilling again, you text Pug back.

You: yeah, don't think any other guy has cuddled me like that in the morning

Pug: cuddling? When's the wedding?

You: shut up 😂

Pug: but in all seriousness now... How good was he?

You: you wouldn't believe if I told you

You: anyways, why are you up so early?

Pug: going to the courtroom in 2 hrs

You: you didnt tell me you had a case

Pug: you didn't ask

You: dick. Good luck

Pug: thanks, shorty 💚

You drop your phone beside your head, exhaling loudly. Matt stirs next to you, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Morning." He mumbles, bringing your bodies even closer together.

"Morning, handsome." You turn around to look at him.

Matt smiles lazily, gently rubbing your arm, "what time is it?"

"Seven." You close your eyes again, enjoying this closeness and warmth. "We should get up." You say reluctantly, "I still have to go home to get changed."

"I'm sure you look good in my shirt." He replies, hands slipping under the material of his shirt to touch your stomach teasingly.

"As soft as it is, I'm afraid that it doesn't cover my ass." You stop his hand roaming on your skin.

"Everyone should know about your ass." He says in your hair, his hot breath causing you to shiver.

"Objection. Everyone should know about your ass."

"I'm sensing an obsession."

"I'm sensing that we should get going." You kiss him on the lips, quickly pulling away before he traps you again. "I still have to call for a taxi and get changed, and somehow retrieve my car from the bar."

"Can I tag along?" He asks, sitting on the bed when you leave his side.

"I think it would be too suspicious for Karen, especially since we left Josie's together." You say loudly, already putting on your clothes that were scattered on the floor of his living room.

"I don't care." He says, standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Matt... Don't be sad. We'll meet in a couple of hours." You hurry to kiss him goodbye, feeling how he presses your body into his, and much to your surprise, he zips up your skirt, kissing your temple.

"I can't wait." He says, listening to your hurried steps downstairs, already missing your presence in his apartment.

Matt was glad that you slept so peacefully the whole night and didn't even notice him leaving in the middle of the night. He had to leave, he had to find that junkie who killed Elena and he had to beat the shit out of him, because he deserved to die at least, eye for an eye, but it wasn't Matt, so of course, he was left severely guilty and bleeding. That's the minimum of the punishment that he deserved.

Reluctantly, but with a smile on his lips, Matt pulls himself away from the doorway and goes into the shower, turning on the cold water.

[mermaidgirl30]

Wip Wednesday!

Thank you for the tags @alltheirdamn @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @burntheedges @sawymredfox 🩷

I am working on a pile of things, and my docs are a mess right now. But here is a sneak peek at some things I’ve got in the works!

1. QZ! Joel

He cups your chin again, turning you slightly to him as his calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair behind the slope of your ear, breathing down your neck as you finally smell him. He smells woodsy, summer sweat kissing the air, cheap whiskey filling your senses. Then he looks deep in your eyes, one hand falling slowly to the top of the table, fingertips curling over the scratched wood, his jaw flexing as his eyes travel down to your lips for just a second, a breath in time. And suddenly you’re frozen in place, waiting for something to happen, something that shouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t, he’s not…

Another soft graze of his rough knuckles to your cheek and then the front door slams open, sending both of you back in your chairs.

2. Still chipping away at ch 5 of dbf! Joel

After you and Joel have showered and thrown on white, silky robes, you sit on the balcony and watch the sunset paint the sky purple and amber colors that look like a masterpiece. You lean into Joel on the reclining chair, letting his fingertips trace up and down your arms slowly while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask, watching the waves slowly lap against the sand while he murmurs in your ear.

“Mhm, gorgeous.” He grazes his lips against your cheek and whispers sweet words into your ear. “You wanna go back inside? Let me make love to my girl,” he whispers as he trails another kiss over your cheek.

You spin around and smile up at him. “Okay, handsome. What’d you have in mind?” you giggle.

He smirks down at you and chuckles. “You remember when we were watching Scream on Halloween night, and I asked about the whole handcuff thing?”

You raise your eyebrows in question and nod. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, don’t exactly have the handcuffs, but that black silk ribbon I asked you to bring? Gonna use that to tie you to the headboard. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. That what you want?” he asks with a long Southern drawl, eyes darkening as he speaks to you in a deep voice.

You gulp and nod your head. “Okay, daredevil. Take me to bed then,” you whisper into the shell of his ear.

3. Modern day witch trial Joel one shot!

He remembers everything. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror of living day after day in a town full of demons. And now he bleeds himself dry night after night, day after day. He has nothing left to give, no fight present in him. Now he’s just a hollow body, a broken man cursed to live in a place he so desperately despises. He wants out. God, does he want out.

But now there’s you. The woman he’s pined after for months. The rare beauty that captured his black heart, a ray of sunshine that showed him the light. It was the small smiles and grazing of skin, the gifted flowers, the afternoon small talks in the wildflower fields. He wishes he got the chance to kiss you, to tell you how much you saved him after his daughter was taken from him. But now it’s too late. He couldn’t save Sarah, and now he can’t save you. And it kills him, it fucking kills him.

He hears your gut wrenching screams, hears the crowd chant “Witch” repeatedly as his ears bleed dry. He covers his ears, kneels on the ground as dirt covers the fabric of his worn pants. He can’t hear it, can’t bear to know they’re torturing you. He wants to murder all of them, burn the whole goddamn town down, and maybe he will. Maybe this will push him to his last straw. He certainly won’t watch them burn you. No. He has to do something, anything.

No pressure tags and anyone else who wants to participate 😊 @janaispunk @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @syd-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@its-dee-lovely @itsokbbygrl @katiexpunk @yxtkiwiyxt @604to647

@macfrog @ozarkthedog @aurorawritestoescape

[askfratt]

hiii! if you're still taking prompts...

Do you do anything for Halloween? Decorate the home or Matt's office, wear costumes, spend the night following kids trick or treating to make sure they're safe...?

Matt: We're invited to the yearly Nelson Halloween party. Costumes and attendance not optional.

Frank: Not that anyone'll care after the first hour. That's what I got from Christmas last year.

Matt: You're not wrong. A lot of whiskey will go around. It always does.

Frank: Hope whiskey'll go 'round the scum out there as well. Don't wanna shoot drunk.

Matt: I asked Danny and Colleen to keep an eye on things. It will be fine.

Frank: If ya say so.

ID in alt text and under the cut.

[ID:

A drawing of Matt and Frank as chibis. They're standing next to each other, smiling.

Frank is on the left side, wearing a Daredevil suit that resembles the red suit from the comics. But instead of wearing the mask as well, he is donning a hairband with devil horns.

Matt is on the right side, wearing Frank's skull shirt and a long, black coat on top. He is also sporting his red glasses and holds his cane in his left hand.

End ID.]

[that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast]

𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 - 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚘𝚗

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Warnings: blowjob, sex work, vaginal sex, riding, groping, maybe slightly non-con for thomas since he's a bit drunk?, mention of scars, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of reader being called a whore Word Count: 1.5k Genre: Angst? Smut Summary: Thomas appears in your brothel but turns down all your girls, so decide to give him a service on the house Pairings: Owner/sexworker!reader x thomas A/n: Thank you to @vigilante-daredevil for suggesting i watch apostle

A/n #2: *rounds of applause* SHES FINALLY BACK WRITING AGAIN WOOHOO (btw send me a dm or just ask in the comments of this if you want to be added to my taglist, frank fic will be my next piece)

＿＿＿＿＿＿｡o*★*o｡＿＿＿＿＿＿

He had come in quite early on in the evening. From the moment he walked in, you could see something was up with this man. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks and sat in a secluded booth in the shadowy corner of your brothel's bar. As the evening progressed you watched as he turned away at least 5 of your best girls, something you had never seen before. Normally only 1 or 2 of your girls got turned away before the same guy before he settled on a girl which happened to be his type. But this man, he turned every vareity of girl you had away.

Later on, the brothel started to die down, your usual customers started paying for their drinks and leaving, yet there he still sat in the corner. Even from across the room, you could see his eyes had glossed over slightly, as he swirled the orange liquid in his glass. He already had 5 empty glasses scattered out infront of him on the table. You wiped up the bar surface with the rag from your shoulder, before nodding to one the girls who had finished for the night to tend bar for a bit.

You made your way over and sat down next to the mystery man. In a soft voice you got him to look at you. "Hi there my sweetheart, are you alright, you've turned down practically every girl here?" He didn't reply, simply looked away from you and down at his glass, before throwing the remaining liquid down his throat, hissing at the slight sting. His gravelly yet soft voice spoke up suddenly. "I don't have the money for the girls, i was only intrested in the drinks and a quiet spot to drown my sorrows." You gave him a sympathetic look and gently placed your hand on his. "You wanna tell me what has caused you these sorrows that need to be drowned in whiskey?" He looked into your eyes, his were glossy and empty. "I over worked myself, and my wife left me for my brother."

You nodded as he told you before speaking up. "Well how about i give you a sevice to take your mind off of all that." He shook his head. "I told you already madam, i don't have the money for a serv-" You cut him off. "It's on the house." He looked at you slightly shocked, from the few times he had been to a brothel, before being married, they had never so much as lowered their prices, nevermind offer a free service. "Are you sure madam?" You gave him a sweet smile and nodded. "And you can call me y/n." He nodded. "Alright, thank you madam y/n." You stood up and took his hand, leading him to one of the unoccupied bedrooms above the bar.

Once the door was locked, you turned and smiled at the man. "So you got a name mister?" He hung his coat on a peg and undid his shirt. "Thomas, Thomas Richardson." You closed the curtains and sauntered over to him. "Well thomas how about you just lay back and let me take all that stress away for you?" He gave a slight smirk and did so, his shirt now unbuttoned and slightly open, showing a flash of his chest. You unclipped the black and red corest around you midsection letting it fall to the ground. You licked your lips as you crawled onto the bed between Thomas' legs.

You kept eye contact with him as you started planting slow and sensual kisses up his torso, all whilst you fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to his knees. You could hear small relaxed noises come from thomas as you pusheded his shirt open further. You continued to plant kisses along his torso before shuffling down and tugging at the waist band of his boxers. As you freed his cock form his boxers which sprang up and hit his lower stomach, precum glazing the tip, Thomas sat up slightly, resting on his elbows and looking down at you. Looking up him ,you pushed your hair back and let some spit drip onto his cock before you took his tip between your pretty pink lips.

Thomas let out a groan as his head tipped back and his hands found their way to the back of your head. You hollowed out your cheeks and took more of him into your mouth. You had to say, he certainly had an impressive size, a good 7 or 8 inches and quite thick aswell. Your hands rested on Thomas' thighs as you slowly began to move your head up and down on his length. He seemed to be quite impaitent however, gathering your hair into a pony tail and pushing your head down slightly further. "Please sweetheart, i need more than that." You smirked and took as much of him as your throat allowed. Thomas held your head in place began bucking his hips ,fucking your mouth and throat. You gagged a few times as spit dripped from the corners of your lips.

Thomas let out a small grunt and occasional whimper with every thrust of hips, and by god did he let you know how heavenly your mouth felt. Soon his thrust became sloppy, his orgasm drawing evidently closer. By now, you were a mess, hair tangled between his fingers, your lips pink and puffy, tears brimming your eyes and spit dripping down your chin. Suddenly Thomas held your head still and let out a loud moan. His cum shot down your throat as you sat back panting. You swallowed the salty liquid and smiled up at Thomas. He helped you up onto the bed and and gently wiped the tears and mix of cum and spit off your face. You smiled and reached under your dress, removing your panties and climbing onto thomas' lap.

You slowly sunk down, letting out a soft moan as he stretched you. Thomas cursed under his breath and bit his lip. You began to swirl and bounce your hips on him as you tipped your head back, moaning in his ear. Thomas' hands snaked their way round your hips and clutched them tightly, digging his fingers into your plump hips. You moaned out his name as your hands slid over his torso, feeling small raised and faded scars underneath your fingertips. Thomas pressed his soft lips where your neck met your chest, as his arms wrapped round you and pulled you closer to him. You tipped your head back as your arms rested on his shoulders ,your fingers tangling in his hair.

You felt him look up at you and met your eyes with his. You see his eyes were filled with lust. "Madam y/n you make me feel so heavenly, i could have you on top of me for all eternity, just feeling you squeeze round me like that." His praising words went straight to your head, making you feel more worthy and beautiful than the "common whore leader" everyone else seemed to see you as. You felt the warm tightness in your stomach grow stronger as thomas starting thrusting up to match your bounces. "So close thomassss" His pretty blue eyes looked up from between your breasts. "Yeah?" You nodded whimering and digging your nails into his back, leaving small cresent shaped indents. Thomas gripped your waist tighter and bit down on your breast as he thrusted harder. Your mind went slightly fuzzy as you felt your orgasm wash through you, followed by the warm feeling of thomas' seed filling you up.

You both slowly came down form your highs and laid on the bed next to each other, the smell of sex and sweat lingering in the air. After a few minutes of silence your turned onto your side and smiled at thomas as you ran a hand over his chest. "Feeling better now mr richardson?" He turned his head to the side to look at you with a smll smile on his face. "Most definetly madam." His arm snaked round your waist and pulled you against him, kissing your forehead and rubbing your back. You were slightly stunned as he did. No other customers did this after their show, normal customers would maybe crack a joke or briefly check on the girls before leaving, but never this. Yet as strange as was, it was still nice, nice to know that someone appriciated you.

You and Thomas stayed like that for about 20 minutes before getting up and helping each other get dressed. You both headed back down to the bar area where only a few drunks and your later girls reamained. You walked thomas to the door before he turned to you. "I'll make sure to come back once i've got the money and i'll pay for your second best service alright?" You looked at him puzzled as you held his hands. "Second best?" A small grin crept onto his lips as he stepped towards you. "Well i've already had the best service madam." With that he planted a soft kiss on the back of your hands and walked off into the night, leaving you stood on the steps of your brothel, stunned, flustered and maybe a bit lovestruck?

[cerridwen007]

Cerridwen007's Masterlist.

Javier Peña (Narcos).

One shots:

Put him in his place. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Javier comes home from a particularly hard day at work and instead of being able to help him relax and take his mind off work like you usually can, he snaps at you causing you to put him in his place.

Bitter Jealousy. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: Your friendship with Javi gets rocky as he finds out about your secret boyfriend, hidden because your afraid of his disapproval of him. After getting into a fight at work about you lying to your boyfriend that Javier is your brother instead of your best friend. You decide to own up and tell him, making him have an extreme reaction which makes you upset and Javi set on revenge.

Icy hot. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Javi finds a new, interesting way for you to cool down during a hot Colombian day.

Retired Javi Shorts series:

Retired Javi Shorts 1#. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 1K

That time where you two spend the afternoon basking in the afternoon sun on the couch and Javi has to teach you a lesson for wiggling around so much.

She, her and the two of us series:

She. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Originally going past your apartment to check up on you after his shift, Javier finds himself engrossed by you as you masterbate on your bed. He begins questioning if it's really worth it trying to distance himself from you.

Her. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: After the events of last week where Javier watched you pleasure yourself through your window, he decides to visit you and admit to watching you pleasure yourself. Which causes you to have a surprising reaction to his behavior.

The Two Of Us. (angst/fluff)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Third part to the Javi x f!reader situationship series. Follows the morning after reader and Javi fuck after being apart for a month. Reader lays out all her feelings on the table hoping Javier will too.

Matt Murdock (Daredevil).

Corruption of innocence series:

Corruption of Innocence. Part 1. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader.

Word count: 5K

Summary: You are the main topic of daydreams that have recently been flooding Matt’s mind. Ever since he met you, you’ve held a strong place in his head. Every part of him has become obsessed with you, the thought of loving you, growing old together and the thought of taking your innocence for himself frequently saturate his thoughts. 

Corruption of Innocence. Part 2. (smut 18+)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader.

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: Continuing from the events of Part one of Corruption of Innocence, Matt gives you a very memorable night, giving you your first taste of pleasure at the hands of someone else. From that night Matt becomes addicted, now that he has had a taste and can't keep his hands to himself.

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Oneshots:

Will you let me make you feel good? (smut 18+)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader.

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: After feeling hopeless trying to get Joel to realise your feelings for him, you decide to push the limits of how obvious you can be, making Joel flustered, to which you offer him an apology to make up for your behaviour.

I always got you. (angst/fluff)

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word count: 800+ words

Summary: Reader restlessly tries to sleep in their and Joel's shared bed as their fear of death torments their mind. Joel wakes up and comforts reader as they talk about their past with their fear of death.

A Double Helping. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Agent ‘Jack Daniels’ Whiskey.

Word count: 1.4K.

Summary: GETTING FUCKED AND DICKED DOWN BY THE TWO HOTTEST, COWBOY CODED SOUTHERNERS. THAT'S LITTERALLY IT.

I want you. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Scarlet Snowball. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: vampire!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: You're on your knees for Joel when things get a little messy….not that Joel minds.

Hard pill to swallow. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: Joel Millerx f!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Joel helps you fix your problem with swallowing pills.

Wrong to want you like I do series:

Wrong to want you like I do. Part 1. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller and f!reader.

Word count: 1.7k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: You're back in your hometown for the year to earn some cash while you work out what you wanna do with your life. The only problem is its spring; rainy season. And you don’t own a car nor do you know how to drive, so when you get caught in a big storm, you finally end up relying on your dad’s best friend to come and help.

Agent Whiskey (Kingsman: The Golden Circle)

Oneshots:

Give me some sugar, sugar. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: Agent 'Jack Daniels' Whiskey x f!reader.

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After coming home from a long day at work, all Whiskey wants is to taste your sweetness and make you feel good. Even going as far as getting on his knees and begging you to let him do so.

A Double Helping. (Smut 18+)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Agent ‘Jack Daniels’ Whiskey.

Word count: 1.4K. (18+)

Summary: GETTING FUCKED AND DICKED DOWN BY THE TWO HOTTEST, COWBOY CODED SOUTHERNERS. THAT'S LITTERALLY IT.

Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)

Oneshots:

Candy cane. (Smut/Fluff 18+)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 1.6 k

Summary: Frankie can’t help but stare as you suck on that candy cane, very reminiscent of some of your other favourite things to suck on.

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers! If you know the artists of the images in my masterlist let me know so can tag them!

[redemn]

the  night  seems  still  young        at  least  to  a  very  drunk  arthur  ,      whose  fingers  can  hardly  even  hold  the  cards  in  his  hands  against  the  swaying  of  the  earth  beneath  his  seat  and  the  numbness  which  encases  his  fingers  .      he's  lost  track  of  time  and  doesn't  care  to  check  it  ,      but  there's  great  fun  to  be  had  here  ,      trying  to  keep  the  faces  of  all  his  cards  and  the  houses  and  the  suites  all  straight  in  his  mind  .      for  what  it's  worth  ,      he  really  can't  keep  any  of  the  right  by  now  ,      and  he's  just  barely  present  enough  to  know  that  ,      just  maybe  ,      he  needs  to  fold  and  take  his  losses  .

@ofsoul  .  “ need a little help ? ” raven approaches arthur from behind his sitting frame, whispering feathery against his ear as he rowdily indulges in poker. “ sean is bluffing, ” empath privilege that secures him a win. an hour in a dead town's bar is enough to overwhelm her,  but for his sake she tried. and although so much drunkenness is a complex beast to tackle, she found his daredevil demeanor amusing. “ i think i will head to bed now,  tonight’s full moon is beacon for recklessness, but i did not want to go without thanking you. ”

if  he  were  sober  ,      he  might  lift  his  head  with  great  speed  and  risk  knocking  his  skull  right  into  raven's  .      but  his  body  moves  as  sluggishly  as  his  mind  does  now  ,      and  he  moves  his  head  back  slowly  ,      and  he's  so  uncoordinated  that  he  nearly  topples  back  in  his  seat  despite  his  upwards  position  .        ❝        ah  huh    …      ?      now            ❞        she's  leaving  .      and  sean  is  bluffing  ,      and  that's  all  he  has  running  through  his  dizzied  mind  now  .        ❝        now  wait  .      wait'm  m    …    minute  ,      raven  .      wait    …    i'll  go  witchu  .        ❞        he's  quick  enough  to  turn  his  attention  back  to  the  game  ,      banging  his  palm  against  the  table  as  he  declares  he's  going  all  in  for  the  rest  of  the  round  .

a  minute  later  ,      he  leaves  the  table  ,      several  dollars  richer  and  weighing  down  his  pockets  ,      and  a  very  unhappy  irishman  behind  .      he's  got  his  last  bottle  of  whiskey  in  hand  still  ,      and  staggers  after  raven  with  all  the  determination  of  a  bull  elk  .        ❝        raven  …  raaayv    …    ven  ,      hold  your  horses  now  .      m'comin'  !        ❞        he's  a  mess  ,      the  way  he  catches  up  to  her  side  ,      half  out  of  his  mind  but  still  smiling  .      that  smile  ,      too  ,      is  a  mess  .      as  is  the  way  he  reaches  right  for  her  upper  arm  ,      a  bit  tactlessly  ,      unthinkingly  ,      tastelessly        not  something  he  would  ever  think  of  doing  sober  .      but  he  holds  onto  her  ,      although  firmly  ,      with  a  certain  gentle  grasp  .        ❝        'ey  .      m'lady  …  i'll  walk  y'back  .        ❞

╰ ゜UNPROMPTED .  /  𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 .

[danny-likes-sharks]

pretty sure hozier watched daredevil and wrote 'too sweet' from matt's pov

like, last night i finished re-watching and it makes sense. not only that but canonically he DOES in fact have his whiskey neat.

plus the entire 'you're too sweet for me' thing is pretty much why he kept coming back to elektra after everything she put him through

i'm so in love with him anyways