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Matt Murdock - Blog Posts
And second idea:
Matt having a bad lawyer day and a bad Mr. Devil Sir night, the coming home to reader and needing to just let go and use reader’s body for release (with reader’s consent of course) BUT THEN he goes just a lil too far and reader has to use their safe word and Matt immediately snaps out of it then feels TERRIBLE and gets all self deprecation-y and reader comforts him 🫢😳🥹
hi nonnie! ❤️ ok first of all I must be an idiot because I could not find your first request and I don't know what I did, but if you want to re-submit it please do! thank you so much for this request, it was a bit of a challenge not gonna lie, but I really hope I did it justice and this is at least close to what you were looking for!
also just a warning: this req does include explicit sexual content, so minors please dni. I also want to give a warning that while this is purely consensual, it does include the use of reader's safe word. if that makes you uncomfortable or isn't for you, please feel free to skip this one. you will not hurt my feelings, I promise. I want this to be a safe space where everyone feels welcome & respected. while this is a little darker in content, it does have a fluffy ending with our favorite sad duck. ✨
a really bad day.
It had been a day. God, had it been a fucking day.
It started with Matt falling back asleep after smacking his hand over his alarm so forcefully that he must have broken it, because the alarms he had preset in fifteen minute increments never followed. Your side of the bed had gone cold, and silence filled the apartment, indicating you had already left for work. Matt knew he shouldn’t be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault he overslept. He had stumbled in only a few hours earlier, and since you were always worrying that he didn’t sleep enough and could probably tell how exhausted he was, had probably decided he could use the extra few minutes. Still, he was angry.
His bad mood didn’t improve as he stomped around the bedroom, pulling his clothes on a little too aggressively that he nearly ripped some of the buttons off his shirt and tore his tie in half. The incessant voice alerting him that Foggy was calling had him seconds away from hurling his phone into the brick. He grit his teeth as he bent over to hastily tie his shoes, his entire body crying out in agony from the aftermath of last night. As badly as he wanted to stay home, he knew Foggy would chew him out for it granted the importance of the case they were working on. Matt slammed the door shut behind him so hard it sounded like thunder had erupted in the small hallway, much to his neighbors displeasure.
The day only got worse from there. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen seemed to be a little bit more crowded than usual, or maybe Matt was just more impatient today as he darted across the busy sidewalks a little too well for someone using the aid of a cane. It was unbearably hot today, and he had already begun to sweat before he made it to the end of his street. He felt like he was trapped in a sauna underneath his clothing and prayed to God the air conditioning in the office hadn’t gone out again. All the noises and smells around him seemed to be far more intense than usual, and the overstimulation was causing a migraine to start to throb between his ears. Great.
Matt Murdock must have truly pissed off the powers that be somehow because the second he walked through the door, he was greeted with bad news from Foggy. A new piece of evidence had been found in the case they were working on that completely ripped apart their entire defense. All that hard work they had done, all those late nights burning the midnight oil the past few weeks, and their entire fucking defensive argument had been torn to shreds by a tiny piece of evidence that had been overlooked by the NYPD. It took every single ounce of self control for Matt to not snap and start taking his frustrations out on every outdated inanimate object in that office.
He had gotten home before you, and decided to skip dinner and head straight to Fogwell’s before going out on patrol. Hit after hit he threw at the worn down bag did nothing to dull his fury. Matt yelled in frustration, throwing his bag clear across the gym in a fit of rage. He knew he couldn’t keep pounding away at that bag if he was going to have any strength left for the assholes that dared to get in the path of the Devil tonight. He was more aggressive than usual as he took man after man down throughout the night. He punched and kicked until he tasted the familiar metallic tang in the air, and was only satisfied by the sound of something breaking that wasn’t meant to break. He twisted limbs in angles they weren’t meant to be in, and had knocked five men out at least in unconsciousness. But it wasn’t enough. That blaze that had been roaring inside him since he woke up was still burning red hot.
Matt could tell from three blocks away that you were still awake. He could hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and your breathing, not slow enough for you to be asleep, or even close to it. Sometimes you waited up for him, just to make sure he was okay, or because you missed him. Sometimes he loved that. He loved coming home in the early hours of the night when everything was quiet and still, finding you still awake on the couch reading a book and waiting for him, telling him you couldn’t fall asleep without him tonight. He loved laying his head on your chest, feeling you draping a blanket over the two of you, and listening to your voice as you both caught up about your days. He loved the feeling of your fingers threading gently through his hair, and letting the symphony of your heartbeat ease the weight of all the violence he had encountered that night into nothingness. Sometimes he needed that. Sometimes he loved it.
But tonight all it did was piss him off. Tonight he hated it, because he felt guilty. He felt guilty that you were awake at this hour, waiting for him to come home. He felt guilty because he knew you had to be awake in a few short hours for work. He was even angrier because he knew you wouldn’t go to sleep until he let you examine him for injuries, insisting on doctoring even the most miniscule of scrapes and bruises. He hated it because he had told you countless times you didn’t have to wait up for him, and you wouldn’t fucking listen.
“Why are you still awake?”
It came out more as an accusatory statement than a question. You didn’t deserve the venom in his words. He knew that. He had never used such a harsh tone with you before, and he could tell it caught you off guard by the slight uptick in your heartbeat. That should’ve been the first alarm in his head, but he couldn’t hear it.
“I…I was waiting for you. I didn’t get to see you today. You weren’t home when I got here…and you weren’t answering your phone. I just…wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Normally, that would’ve melted Matt’s heart, and he would’ve apologized for making you worry. He would’ve been able to notice the uncertainty and nervousness lacing your voice, taking a moment to calm himself before greeting you properly. But today was not a normal day, and Matt wasn’t himself. Today those words were like gasoline antagonizing a wildfire.
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that? I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to worry, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity.”
“Matt, I-”
Matt had ripped the mask off his head and sent it flying across the living room, smacking against the brick with a heavy thud. He wrapped his hand tightly around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to stop your flow of words as he dragged you up off the couch and roughly guided you towards your shared bedroom.
“Shut up. Since you’re awake, why don’t you make yourself fucking useful?”
Matt spun you around so quickly it made you dizzy, pushing you onto your knees on the bed before him with a force that nearly winded you. He ripped your panites completely off your hips like they were made of wet paper and a sharp gasp left your mouth. It wasn’t that he had never done that before, but tonight it felt different. He was different. Matt didn’t recognize the words that fell from his lips. They didn’t sound like him. He would never speak to you that way. But it was like he had blacked out and someone else had taken over his body. The other guy. As soon as he was out of his suit, he spit on his palm and rubbed it over his cock a few times to get himself hard. Pushing your head down into the mattress carelessly, he leaned down slightly to spit on the entrance of your pussy before lining himself up.
“Don’t you fucking move.”
He didn’t wait before shoving his entire length forcefully inside your tight walls, or wait for you to adjust before starting at an unforgiving pace. He didn’t recognize that the whimper that sounded from your throat was one of pain, not pleasure. He was too far gone in his own head to pay attention to anything else but how badly he needed a release. He had been trying all goddamn night to get this anger out, lashing out aggressively at anyone that got in his way, but it wasn’t fucking working and this was his last resort.
You always helped him through his pent up animosity when he came home still reeling with adrenaline and frustration. You always told him you didn’t mind when he let the Devil loose with you, and that you even enjoyed playing with him sometimes. You always told him you wanted to help, however you could, to give him what he needed. So, Matt didn’t think anything of it when he came home like this. You had assured him several times before you wanted it too. That you didn’t mind him like this, and that sometimes you needed him like this. All that he needed right now was you. If he could just make it to heaven tonight, he could leave hell behind.
Matt wasn’t paying attention to you. He had your wrists locked behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped so tightly on your hip you knew there would be bruises from his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours and he was pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult for you to not collapse. His head was so clouded with blind rage that he couldn’t hear your pleas and cries of his name, or that they sounded different. Matt’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster as he got close. It was right there…he was almost there…just a little bit-
“Red!”
Something inside of Matt snapped when he heard you scream out your safe word, and he immediately froze. He blinked his eyes rapidly as he tilted his head down towards your body beneath him, like he was waking up from some kind of fever dream and trying to remember where he was. He instantly let go of you when he heard your shuddering breaths, and tasted the saline that escaped down your cheek. Matt’s eyes widened in horror as everything suddenly started to clear up in his selfish brain. You had been trying to get him to stop. Your pleas and cries from earlier seemed to just now hit his ears.
“Matt…please slow down…”
“Matty please…it’s too much…”
“God…can we please just…just stop for a second? Please Matty…it hurts…”
It hurts.
Matt scrambled backwards away from the bed, his back colliding with the door as he realized what he had done. How far he had taken it. How far he had pushed you. He suddenly felt nauseous, those two words clamoring around in his head.
It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
“Oh God, Y/N…I…I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to-”
You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, carefully sitting up on your aching knees and glancing over your shoulder to look at Matt. Your heart broke at the contrite expression of pure terror on his face. You knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you, or push you like that. You could tell from the way he shut off his alarm that morning, and the way he had come home to you, that something was off with him. You had texted and called a few times today to check on him, but had never gotten ahold of him. After calling both Foggy and Karen when you got home and Matt wasn’t there, you started to worry. Both of them confirmed his sour mood and questionable outbursts throughout the day, which gnawed at the pit of your stomach.
Whatever was going on with him, you could tell it had pushed him to his breaking point, and you had unfortunately been caught in the storm. As you got off the bed and began to walk closer towards him, calling out his name softly, Matt squeezed his eyes shut and tugged at the roots of his hair in frustration.
“Fuck, Y/N…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, I swear-”
“Hey, I know, Matty. I know. It’s okay-”
“No! No it isn’t okay. Nothing about what just happened is okay.”
Matt’s voice broke towards the end of his sentence, and it sent a pang throughout your chest. There were tears of shame forming in his eyes, and you could see the guilt swimming around in them. It devastated you to see him like this.
“Matty, I’m okay.”
“No you’re not, Y/N. I hurt you. I hurt you because I’m fucking-”
You quickly pressed a finger to Matt’s lips, knowing you only had a matter of minutes to get his incessant guilt under control before it really had a chance to sink in. You gently grabbed onto the back of his neck, bringing him down to press your foreheads together, and guided his hand up to settle on your chest over your heart.
“Matty, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening? I want you to listen to my heartbeat, feel it. I am okay, I promise. You are okay. We are okay. Yes, it did hurt, but only because I wasn’t ready. That’s all. You know I don’t mind when you’re a little rough, you know that. But you know you have to prep me first, make sure I’m ready too. You forgot to do that tonight, and that’s okay. You haven’t been feeling like yourself today, have you? You’ve been a little lost up there, huh?”
You kept your voice soft and barely above a whisper, gently brushing your thumb along Matt’s temple, replacing your touch with a kiss as you heard him exhale deeply and felt him slowly nod his head.
“That’s okay, baby. We all get lost sometimes. We reach our limit, and we lose our heads. You had a really bad day today, yeah?”
Matt was afraid to speak. He didn’t want to fuck up any worse than he already had. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your gentle touch and unwavering kindness. He didn’t deserve your omnipotent understanding or your pure unfiltered love. He didn’t deserve you.
You knew exactly what was going through his head, you could practically hear the scathing words. You knew Matt Murdock like the back of your hand. You knew he was simmering with self-deprecation and remorse, and would never forgive himself for tonight even though you already had. You gently cradled his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the tops of his cheekbones.
“Matty, baby, you had a bad day today. A really bad day. But that’s okay, you know why? It’s almost over. And tomorrow is a brand new one. A fresh start. Why don’t we take a nice shower, hm? Just wash it all away, and start clean tomorrow. C’mon, bub. Come with me.”
Matt hesitantly let you lead him into the bathroom, holding onto your hand for as long as you would let him. Even though he could tell you meant every word you said from your unfaltering heartbeat, he wasn’t convinced that he was worthy of your forgiveness. Of your love. Of you.
As steam billowed above like gentle clouds, you carefully ushered Matt into the shower and lightly pushed him backwards until he stood under the flow of the water. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his entire body visibly relaxing under the scalding stream. You moved forward to wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest, stroking your fingertips lovingly up and down his back. Matt’s arms came around your back slowly and cautiously, holding you delicately to his chest like you would vanish into the steam if he wasn’t careful. He had been wound up so tightly for the past 24 hours, and focusing now only on the feeling of your touch, he felt the tension finally begin to detox from his body, and he wanted to cry in relief.
The lighter he felt, the tighter he held onto you. You sang to him softly, swaying steadily from side to side underneath the warm water together. You smiled when you felt him bury his face into your neck, bringing one of your hands up to run your fingers through his wet hair tenderly as he melted into your embrace. You pressed several soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, never once loosening your hold on him. You could feel him starting to come back to you.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“I know, bub. I know. You wanna talk about it?”
“I just…everything was going wrong today. Everything was too loud, smelled too strong, felt too hot and uncomfortable. I couldn’t stop feeling anything but angry. I couldn’t snap out of it, no matter what I did.”
“You were overwhelmed Matty. You should’ve called me and came home. I would’ve come home and taken care of you, you know that baby.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I…I couldn’t think straight today. Couldn’t hardly focus. I just…wasn’t thinking. Just…feeling, everything. All at once.”
You hugged him a little tighter after his defeated confession, feeling your heart ache for him all over again. You had seen Matt struggle with sensory overload plenty of times, and irritation was usually the emotion that took over when that happened and he would get a little snappy, but you had never seen him like you had tonight. You realized how intense everything must have been for him to get to that point, and it sent fresh cracks through your heart.
“It’s okay, Matty. You’re home now, and everything is alright. I’ve got you. Why don’t you take tomorrow off, hm? I’ll stay home with you. We can spend the whole day, just me and you.”
Matt hummed quietly in response, nuzzling his face further into your neck to inhale your comforting scent. You both stood wrapped up together under the water until it started to run a little cold.
“Foggy’s right, you know.”
“Hm?”
“He calls you ‘The Matt Whisperer’.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, smiling as you heard the faintest of chuckles muffled against your skin. You squeezed his large frame in a tight hug, reaching behind him to shut off the water.
“Daredevil and the Matt Whisperer, what a dynamic duo we make. Think I can get a sexy little outfit like yours?”
thinking about how matt eats pussy to show gratitude. he’s just so overwhelmed with how much he loves you when you do those little things to care for him and show him your love, that he resorts to doing the thing that he knows makes you feel good.
bring him lunch at work with the intention to not leave until he’s actually eaten because sometimes he gets too preoccupied and forgets to take care of himself? you’re getting bent over his desk and he’s spearing your pretty hole open with his tongue before you can say anything other than your initial “hey matty.”
fussing over him and some minor injuries he came back with after patrol? you’re getting pushed back into the couch, folded nearly in half, and he’s lapping at your twitching clit until you’ve come so many times that you become a wet, boneless mess under his hold.
wake up early in the morning as he’s getting dressed, even though you don’t have to be up for hours just so you can send him off with “have a good day at work, honey. don’t get into too much trouble. love you”? you’re getting yanked down to the edge of the bed and watching as your boyfriend kneels down and throws your legs over his shoulders to bury his tongue into your fluttering cunt.
remember when i said matt could cum untouched because of his heightened senses?? well—
cw: 18+ only || f masturbation, cumming untouched, technically voyeurism but also not really??, a bit of cum play at the end hehehe
the wet slushing sound that fills matt's ears makes him feel lightheaded. he drops his head back on the armrest of the couch with a shuddering breath, his hips bucking up and meeting empty air. he groans in frustration.
"matty," you moan from the other side of the couch. one of your legs rests beside his head. he grabs your ankle and presses his mouth to your calf, sinking his teeth on the tender flesh when a waft of your smell hits him like a truck.
"fuck matty, i'm so close," you whimper, curling two of your fingers inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. it's not the same as his cock— it'll never will be— but it makes do for now.
"i know," he pants like he just ran a marathon. his stubble scratches your skin as he strokes his cheek on your leg like a kitten. "i know, sweetheart. i can smell you from here— fuck." he licks his lips and shivers when he senses a new drop of slick coat your fingers.
"can i cum?" you ask sweetly. he can practically see your pout in his mind. "please, matty, can i cum?"
he's nodding even before you can finish begging. it's all too much for him; your mewl of his name, your pretty little "thank you"s, your smell and the warmth of your skin against his and the sopping, empty sound your little hole makes when you take your fingers out with a spent sigh. it hits him suddenly— the world on fire goes white as he cums all over his stomach and a bit of his chest with a low moan.
he blinks disbelievingly at the ceiling, his mind reeling from the intensity of his orgasm. you get on your knees and crawl over him, matt hissing when your glistening fingers graze his cock.
"can't believe we just did that," you giggle, drawing circles on the droplets of cum that cover his scarred torso.
he huffs out a laugh, searches blindingly for your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. he licks both of your juices but leaves a little for you, urging you to taste it before pulling you into a deep kiss.
Frank encouraging Matt to fuck the life out of you like “come on, red, I know you can do better than that. At least make the girl cum.” “Is that all you got? Can’t even fuck a girl right?” Until Matt just loses it and pounds the fuck out of you “there it is! There’s the devil.”
GOD frank taunting matt would be 🤌🏼 and you’re just so overstimulated you’re dizzy and whimpering
join the sleepover!
Something we need to talk about more is the fact that's its practically canon that Matt has a choking kink????In season 2 him and Electra are having sex and he grabs her throat???I feel like this should constantly be discussed because oh my god!!!
Matt Murdock seems like the type to run his thumb along your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth and that’s the tea
THIS WAS EVERYTHING
𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 | ꪑ.ꪑ.
fandom marvel
featuring matt murdock x reader (f)
rating NSFW / MINORS DNI / DARK FIC
content warning CNC (consensual nonconsent), roleplaying, dark!elements, matt losing control, unprotected sex, threats, breath play, semi public play, impact play, brief blackout, creampie kink, oral sex (f), use of a safe word, aftercare
summary the best way to keep his conscience in check is to let him stray every now and then. no one seemed to understand that but you.
word count 5k (yikes, sorry) / one shot
attention not proofread. do not read if you don’t like dark!fics (duh) because i’m not responsible for your media consumption and this fic contains consensual non consensual sex acts & abusive behavior! do not copy/repost/translate. reblog / give feedback. divider by @firefly-graphics !
“Look,” you exhale slowly, twisting the golden band on your ring finger as you consider the easiest way to let him down, “no offense but I—“
“You’re waiting on someone?” he asks, brows arching above the rounded edge of his dark glasses. “Husband, maybe, judging by the way you keep fidgeting with that ring. I’m guessing it’s a wedding band.”
you sigh, and nod, but answer quietly. “I’m married, but,” you glance around the bar, scanning each face, before your gaze falls on him again. the man on the stool beside you, his arm resting on the bar top, thick digits rimming the lip of his beer bottle. “My husband— he doesn’t exactly know that I’m here. It doesn’t matter, really, just looking to be left alone tonight.”
his smile remains, as if it’s been painted on his lips. he tilts his head to one side, as if he’s intrigued, or perplexed, by this new information. “He doesn’t know where you are?” a breathy chuckle escapes his grinning countenance, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous? A girl like you?”
your eyes narrow, and you hiss, somewhat defiantly. “A girl like me? A girl like me can take care of herself, keep that in mind.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can.” he answers smoothly, the arrogance that has you gritting your teeth as his smile contorts into a flippant expression as he shrugs, “Didn’t mean anything by it, you just seem sweet. Your voice is soft and kind,” there’s a subtle twitch in the left corner of his mouth that you take note of, before he adds, “but I suppose that you’ve gotten good at lying to men, haven’t you?”
staring at him incredulous, you scoff, “Just what the fuck do you know about me, anyways? I—“
“I know you’re in some sleazy bar late at night, and that your husband doesn’t know where you are.” he leans close, as if whispering a terrible secret, his palm finding your bare thigh and rubbing firm circles, “I know you’re wearing a dress too short to be wanting to be left alone, and cheap perfume that you don’t mind wasting, drenching yourself in to… cover up the scent of the man you plan on cheating on your husband with. Should I keep going?”
“No.” you snap, fed up with the glaringly obvious truths spilling from his lips, “no. You should get up and walk away. Right now.”
this is the moment his aura shifts, the air between the two of you seems to thicken with tension and you can see his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. it’s almost intimidating, but you try not to seem too disturbed by it, clearing your throat, you turn back towards your nearly-empty glass, kicking your leg in hopes to shake his hand free of your thigh.
“It’s not going to fucking happen.”
the weirdest part about him was that he stayed. sure, he put some distance between the two of you, but merely moved to one of the tables in the corner. and that’s where he sat, drinking, waiting. you could swear that the man didn’t plan on leaving until you did, so you tested your theory.
you stayed until last call.
and the man did, too. he hadn’t talked to anyone else after you, just sat at the table and ordered beer after beer.
just as the bartender swaggered over to you, flipping a rag over his shoulder, you felt a body breeze past you from behind— it was his cologne. you turned on the stool to see him leaving the bar, silently, and taking careful steps, guided by a nearly rhythmic tapping of the white cane in front of him. you felt a wave of relief upon watching him leave— not that he seemed necessarily dangerous (just a massive prick), but you couldn’t explain the jitters you felt when his hand rested on your thigh. pensive, you run your fingertips over the affected area.
“All right, lady.” the bartender huffs, “You ain’t gotta go home, but ya can’t stay here.”
snapping back to the present, you nod, gathering your things and pulling yourself to your feet. “Oh! Right, sorry.” nibbling on your bottom lip, you settle your tab and exit the bar with a couple of late-night stragglers.
you hadn’t been expected the rain. a steady shower that had started sometime after you’d went inside, and now you’re standing in the middle of it, soaking from head to toe, and wishing you brought an umbrella.
you fish in your clutch for your phone to order an Uber, but think better of it. a cab, instead. there was one approaching from over the hill and you take a step forward, extending your arm to wave it over.
that’s when he grabs you.
one palm clamps over your mouth hard, whilst the other plants itself firmly on your midsection, hoisting you off the sidewalk and away from the street. your first instinct is to scream, a muffled sound drowned out by the rain. your next was to fight. you thrash wildly against your attacker, kicking until one of your heels flies off and lands in a mud puddle he drags you by, your arms flailing in attempts to reach his face. when they do, you feel thick, soaked fabric over his eyes, and no matter how you try to sink your nails in, you can’t seem to get a grip. the man drags you into the alleyway by the bar’s employee exit with you protesting violently the whole way. finally, he grunts when you grasp his cheek, and jerks it away, before flinging you on to your back on the metal door of the dumpster.
wheezing loud through his tightly sealed fingers, you arch your back, eyes fluttering as you feel every bit of wind knocked from your lungs. his hand is tight over your mouth but he leans close to your face. even in the rain, you recognize the scent of his cologne. the man from the bar, but he’s certainly dressed different. clad in all black, he appears as a wicked shadow of the suit-wearing asshole he was before. your eyes squint, blinking rapidly as raindrops blur your vision ever so slightly, but you’re glaring up at him, screaming obscenities through his palm and kicking your legs.
“You’re going stop screaming,” he mutters, lips hovering dangerously close to your cheek, “so I can take my hand off your mouth, or I’m going to have to make you be quiet. Understand?”
fuck him. fuck him!
you only howl louder against his hand, both hands latching on to his wrist. your nails bite at the thickness of his gloves, but you can’t tell if they actually go through.
his free hand comes down in a tight, strong fist and strikes the metal inches from your skull, a bang as loud as a gunshot making your ears ring. a strangled whimper dies in his palm, dizzy from the noise and grateful that you had narrowly avoided being hit hard enough to produce that kind of sound.
“I said you’re going to stop screaming.” he repeats. his fist must’ve been throbbing, but he didn’t let any discomfort reach the stoicism of his countenance, or what you could see of it— “Now, scream again, and maybe my aim gets a little better. Understand?” the grip over your mouth has his clothed digits digging into the flesh of your cheeks, and he uses the leverage to nod your head for you. “I’m going to take it off, now, and you’re going to behave.”
he does, and you follow his rules, for now. huffing, you attempt to suck in as much, burning oxygen as you can, sputtering raindrops.
“Smart girl.” he seems pleased, or at least approves of your cooperation, and he snatches the purse from your shoulders, tearing it open.
panting, you prop one elbow into the rusted metal you’re lain upon to try and push yourself up. “So what, you want.. money? Take it, Jesus. Could’ve just snatched my purse from the street.”
“I don’t want your money.”
and, you watch him punctuate that statement by emptying the contents of your purse on to the concrete, sparkling like night stars. a small handgun, compact mirror, cellphone, wallet.
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
his hand latches on to one of your ankles, yanking you to the very edge of the dumpster so abruptly that you lose your balance and fall back against it with a soft grunt. “I want to give you what you want.” he murmurs, gripping both of your knees to pry them open. no matter how hard you try to close them, he’s much too strong to compete with, and he forces them wide enough for him to step between with ease. “What you were looking for the moment you stepped foot into that bar dressed the way you did.”
you dig your knees into his ribs from either side with a furious snarl. “No!” you exclaim, pushing yourself up again to throw both of your arms in his direction. he lays a palm flat against your sternum and overpowers you with ease, holding you down with your spine flush against the dumpster. he was so goddamn strong, you remember thinking, that fighting against him was practically useless. “I don’t want this,” you hiss, and he uses his teeth to pull the glove off of his free hand and discard it beside your writhing frame, “I don’t want this.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you can keep repeating that mantra,” he murmurs, his now bare hand delving between your open thighs to find the warmth that lives there. fist curling around the thin fabric of your panties, with one jerk, he’s torn them from your body with a horrible sound echoing around you. he grunts low, like a beast, when he finds it; the rough pads of his digits worm their way underneath your delicate nether lips, and for the first time, you see a grin etch his lips upward, flashing pearly white teeth, “but your pussy’s wet, you know. Drenched, actually.” wrist craning, his thumb presses hard on your button like he knows exactly where to find it and you suppress a needy moan, hips rocking to try and escape his filthy caress. “Been that way since I told you that it was dangerous being out here alone. I could smell your juicy cunt in the bar, you know that? Even from across the damn room, I could feel the warmth radiating from it, fucking needy, little pussy. Tell me I’m mistaken.”
even with the chill of the raindrops on your face, the apples of your cheeks burn with humiliation. had you truly been turned on at the prospect of danger, or was this masked man full of shit? you couldn’t remember properly, like everything before his hand between your hips was a distant memory. his first, two digits tease your clenching hole before he pushes them in and hooks them there, like an anchor inside of your body. the moan escapes you now, tearing through your tightly pursed lips like a bat out of hell. “You’re mistaken…” you murmur, but the excited fluttering of your walls against his fingers gives you away.
“And you’re a bad liar.”
his fingers dive deeper, curling every few centimeters or so, and you grit your teeth, your own hand covering your mouth to prevent any more moaning. still, it was hard to deny how good it felt, the skillful prodding of his digits. “Goddamn, that’s a tight, little hole.” his breathing had become somewhat ragged, like he’d been running a marathon, but only after he got to feel you. it was you that was making him this way, pant and grunt and dig his fingers into the fabric of your dress where he still held you down. “Just begging to get stuffed full of dick, isn’t that right?”
you shudder, body aching at every syllable as it hangs in the air around you. your legs tremble against his taut frame, looking up at him with a bleary gaze. allowing your hand away from your mouth, you push against the wrist that plants his palm firmly on your chest, “Don’t—“
but the sound of the zipper whirring makes your head spin. puts you on edge. you squirm until you’re partially crumpled on the lid of the dumpster, neck craned as far as it will without pain to see him retrieving himself from the fabric prison of his inky trousers. even in the blur of the rain, the dim lighting of the barren alley, you see it. thick and heavily veined, already rock hard and throbbing. ready to fuck you into an oblivion like you’ve never experienced before. the thought makes your stomach turn, for all the wrong reasons.
temporarily stunned, you don’t even realize that his hand has slipped from your chest and, instead, cradles the back of your neck, urging you forward.
“I gotta feel that tight cunt wrap around my cock right fucking now,” his words are an exhale, a spectral version of a statement that has goosebumps raising over your arms and legs, “be a good girl and take it.”
the force at which he enters you is astounding. if you weren’t so wet, it might have even hurt. you suck in a whimper that was threatening to fill the air between the two of you as he bottoms out, swelling your canal to max capacity with a single thrust.
“That’s it,” he moans, jaw clenched tight, he hauls you closer to his body, slumped in a forced sitting position with your legs swinging helplessly at his hips, “that’s good.” his grip on the back of your neck seems to tighten, pushing you closer to him as if he couldn’t get deep enough to satiate his lust for the destruction of your cunt.
you mewl, lewdly so, and slam the sides of your fists against the broad expanse of his solid chest. the fabric that clings to it makes a slick thudding, like the sound you may hear if you jumped on a wet trampoline. “You can’t!” you protest, choking back sounds of pleasure that so desperately wish to assure him that he most certainly can, “You can’t do this! Stop! Stop—“
the familiar sensation of his thick palm clamping over your lower mandible returns to shut you up, only this time, his thumb and forefinger pinch your nostrils closed at the same time. “I said I needed your cunt, never said anything about your mouth—“ he grunts, his rutting finding a violent pace as he jackhammers himself into you. you dig your nails deep into the sleeve that covers his forearm, wriggling helplessly as the masked devil takes you. “I’ll take it, too, when I’m done wrecking this sweet, little fuckhole, but hush up until then.” your eyelids flutter, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen reaching them. he doesn’t seem to care, though you get the feeling he’s aware, and he shifts, positioning you like a rag doll, with one of your legs thrown over his bicep so he can force it back towards your chest when he leans forward, opening you up for a more thorough plowing.
the angle gives his throbbing length access to new depth, and the swollen head of his cock batters your insides with reckless abandon. “Yeah,” he spits, husky and starving in your ear, “Yeah. Dick’s way deep in that pussy, isn’t it?” he can feel the vibration of your sobs of protest melding into helpless moans of ecstasy. “I know you like it, sweet girl, I can tell by the way you’re gripping me right now— holy hell, what is it? Hubby doesn’t fuck you hard enough? That why you’re here, throwing yourself into the water like a piece of fuckmeat, and waiting to see what shark is gonna come up and take the bait?” you gurgle in response, lids heavy but you force them to stay open, sinking your teeth into the glove. it wouldn’t be enough, you realized, it probably didn’t even hurt. but you were in a whirlwind of sensation, your belly churning as your walls milk his girth. he grunts, gasping for a proper breath as he keeps yours nonexistent, his lips smearing saliva and raindrops over your cheek before he snarls, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ the expletives sound especially sinful when uttered in that coarse whisper, broken into base syllables, edged by the pleasure of hurting you. by smothering you.
smothering. the word rings true as your lungs ache and yearn for oxygen, you start to jerk and squirm, hoping to -at least- break a gap between his fingers to suck air through, but he holds you tight and close to his heaving chest, your forehead smashed against it. “You wanna breathe, sweet girl?” he teases wickedly, plumbing your depths with a ferocity that had to be unique to him. “Because I’ll let you, all you gotta do is cum for me, first. You’re close already, I know it—“ he groans, his jaw tight, “I can hear your heartbeat, fast like a scared little bunny, and feel how tight your little pussy is getting around me, you’re gonna cum so fucking hard, huh? Even harder because you can’t breathe.”
he’s right. heavens, is he right! your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, pulls you to the depths of ecstasy like an undertow. you thrash like you’re drowning, screaming muffled through his hand until your throat is raw and sore, and you see white specks, like stars dancing about him. darkness burns the edges, vision like vingette as you quiver, locked in place. “That’s it, good girl,” he huffs, forcing you to ride through your orgasm, “give me a nice, big one. Just… like… that…”
dizzy is no longer a strong enough word to express how you feel. you’re beyond dizzy, you’re weightless. you’re floating through space, directionless, helpless, and utterly broken. your grip loosens on his wrist, only slightly, and he reacts in turn, releasing your mouth and nose to strike your cheek in rapid slaps, bringing you back into the consciousness you’d been slipping out of. “Come back, sweet girl, come on. Not, ah, not done with you, not yet.”
the breath you take almost feels like the first one. it’s new and it burns all the way down, you sputter and spew rain drops, choking on sweet oxygen when you come to, eyes wide and trying to adjust. you flail in his grip, temporarily disoriented and scared, until he hooks that one leg over his shoulder and grips the back of your neck with both hands, fingers interlacing against your nape, forcing your chin towards your flouncing breasts.
“I want you to watch,” he pants, ragged and needy, in your ear, “watch me fuck your little cunt and tell me what you see.”
you’ve no choice with the way he’s pressing your chin into your chest. you moan but it’s a strangled, frustrated sound. “I—“ you pause, pursing your lips to try and kill a whine of pleasure; it doesn’t work, “I—I see your cock going in and out of me!” sucking in another breath, your eyes are glued to the vividly obscene display where your bodies connected, “And, fuck, you’re going deep-p— my— I came all over it!”
he’s buried his face in your neck, sucking on the tender skin and teasing your pulse point with his teeth to muffle his own, needy moans. “Yeah?” he asks, “Is your clit nice and swollen? Aching?”
you bite down on your lower lip, “Y—yeah…!”
he inhales deep, teeth grazing your collar bone, rutting more erratically. “Play with it.”
you shudder at even the thought of touching the screaming bundle of nerves. “I can’t— I’m too sensitive!” you protest, shaking your head.
“Not gonna tell you again,” he huffs, “rub your greedy pussy for me.” his jaw tightens, and you can feel his member palpitating deep inside you. “Shit, I need to feel you cum again.”
you try to look at his face, adjust your body so you can see the muscles in his jaw pulled tight, or at least so you could see something other than your body swallowing his cock like you were starved for it. one, trembling hand approaches your sex with caution, fingers prodding experimentally at your clitoris. the slightest poke sends electricity through your veins, and you let out a pathetic, little squeak.
“Keep going.”
you swallow hard around a lump in your throat but obey, rubbing your nub harder and quicker. you groan, half in pleasure and half from how sensitive you were— how it almost hurt to touch yourself now.
“Ah, fuck,” he moans in your ear, heavy breath sending chills down your spine, “you’re getting tight again. Heart beat kicking up. I bet you feel that churning in your belly, don’t you? Don’t stop, sweet girl, make yourself cum on my cock one more time.”
you hated that he was right; loathed that the constant decimation of your sex and the new stimulation has brought on a second orgasm. you convulse, eyes rolling back when you cum for the second time in a matter of minutes, this one hitting you much harder than the first. expletives spill from your swollen lips and tangle within labored breathing; your hips jut forward to meet the violence of his rutting, to accept the battering he deals you with a masochistic lust.
“I’m close. Real close.” you could already tell by the way his moans had turned into hisses of breath, and how he throbs inside of you, but hearing him say it only extended your orgasm for another few seconds. “I’m gonna cum— gonna fill you up, sweet girl.”
you didn’t even have time to protest.
warmth engulfs your interior, spreading through your belly like a wildfire, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moans muffled and vibrating the flesh of your throat.
several seconds pass.
you can feel his seed oozing from the join of your bodies, sticking to your thighs and smearing over his pants, and he stays there, getting his breathing under control, while he deposits what seems like years of pent up sexual frustration into your guts. after what seems like a lifetime of aftershocks shared between the both of you, he retreats, using one hand to pull himself free while the other holds your nape, flinging you off of the dumpster and on to the concrete below. you land on your feet, but your knees are like jelly, and you melt to the wet ground shortly after, panting, wheezing. looking up at him, looming over you, you can see that his cock is twitching madly, but his grip on it is tight, thumb massaging the protruding vein. was he… was he stroking himself back to life?
aware that going another round with this man meant your willpower would be completely shattered, you roll yourself on to your knees and look around, heart beating fast and hard against your ribs. you catch sight of your phone, a few feet away, and scramble towards it, extending your hand for it. you were so close that the tips of your fingers brushed across the screen and it lit up, the words FACE ID NOT RECOGNIZED USE PASSCODE flashing.
then, you feel his hands in your hair. delving deep against the roots, he yanks hard, and your back arches, knees digging into the gravel. “Ah!” it’s partially a cry of frustration, and partially a startled gasp.
“You thought we were done?” he asks, chest heaving as he drops to his own knees behind you. the grip on your scalp keeps your head forward, tilted back, and he wedges his knees between yours, forcing them wide open again. you moan, helpless and weak, when you feel the rain mixing with his cum on your thighs, more oozing out of you. “We’re not done.”
“Please!” you whine; you know how pathetic and tiny you must sound to him, but you can’t help yourself. “I can’t cum again! I just can’t!”
“Sure you can, sweet girl,” he scoffs, every word laced with acid, “I’m gonna make it easy for you.” he leans in close to your sex, inhaling the concoction of scents. yours and his, before licking a thick stripe between your nether lips. you squeal, trying to crawl forward to escape the tingling in your toes and the throbbing of your clit, but his grip is too strong. “I’m gonna fuck you with my tongue until you beg me to stop.”
your thighs quaking, you mewl and babble and beg him to let you rest, to stop this torture of never ending orgasms, but he’s too deep between your thighs to listen. his tongue dives into your abused hole, slurping on his own taste as well as your desire. he nibbles on your folds, one hand planted firm on your ass cheek with his fingers dug in deep. you reach for the phone again, and groan when you see that it’s just out of the way, the very tips of your digits can only just ghost over the home button. the visage of salvation just beyond your fingertips, leaving you at the mercy of the man in black taunts you.
his couplet encases your clit in warm, tongue swirling around it, and you can feel the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw. your whole body is shaking so violently that you’re forced to brace yourself with both palms on the concrete. “I can’t,” you moan, desperate, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” those two words are repeated over and over as he devours your core, another orgasm fast approaching. you were at your limit. you were done.
“Silver,” you whisper, breathless, and you feel him stop and pull away from you. “Silver, Matty, silver.”
your name falls from his lips. not sweet girl. your name. he releases your hair, but his palm falls to caress your face as he crawls up to kneel at your side. you rest your fiery cheek against the bare palm and look up at him— his mouth is sparkling with your arousal coating that and his jaw, but his lips are pulled downwards in a concerned frown. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. Just really sensitive, now.” you assure him, grabbing on to his arm with both hands to haul yourself into a sitting position, “I just—“ you tilt your head, shaking digits pushing the black mask from over his eyes. those gentle eyes. then, you cradle his face in both hands and guide his lips to yours in a soft peck. “Take me home, yeah?”
“Baby?”
“Hmm?” you hum, softly, running your fingers through Matt’s freshly washed, damp tendrils as he rests his head in your lap. the two of you had been curled up on the couch in that spot since after your shower together, where you took turns washing one another carefully. it was somewhat of a routine, and one that assured him that he had done no real damage to you during the session.
he turns his head, resting the back of it against your thigh. you pause, before brushing along his scalp near the top of his ear instead. he looks up towards the ceiling, hand reaching for your face. your free hand gently guides it to your cheek, and you nuzzle into the caress. “Why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“All of it. The game, the safewords… why?” he doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, but merely confused. “No one’s ever really done anything like this with me… For me.”
you tilt your head, thoughtfully twirling a damp lock of his hair around your forefinger. “You told me before, that you had the devil inside of you.” he nods, still not getting it. “Well,” you start, watching his countenance carefully, “The devil’s like a dog trapped inside. And if you never let a dog out of the house, they rip up furniture, eat things they’re not supposed to. They destroy things because they’re bored, understimulated.”
“So, what you’re saying is that all of this is you metaphorically taking the devil inside me for a walk?” his brow quirks, and he chortles lowly in amusement.
you scoff, shaking your head. “Not exactly, and thanks a lot, you just screwed up my metaphor.” your fingertips glide over his scalp and towards his forehead, drawing soft, loving circles about his temple, “Every now and then, the devil needs to be let out, needs to breathe and run. If we keep him stimulated in a safe environment, there isn’t any need for him to destroy, is there?”
Matt cocks his head to the side, “But who says it’s all that safe? I could hurt you one of these nights.” his voice lowers as he says it, as if simply uttering the words brought a sadness over him.
you arch your eyebrows, “You would never hurt me, Matthew Murdock.” sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you turn your head to press your lips to his fingers, kissing the golden band on one of them in particular, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t trust you.”
“And if I don’t trust myself?”
“Then, trust me.” you murmur against it, “Trust me.”
he seems pensive for a moment, and is quiet as he thinks. “All right, I trust you, baby.” he smiles, letting go of your cheek to instead pat his lips with the pad of his forefinger twice. it was his way of telling you to kiss them. you do as instructed, leaning over to press your couplet to his, and you smile into the embrace. “Mm… even though you go to sleazy bars in town late at night without telling me.”
a giggle bubbles, uncontrollably, out to break the kiss and you nip at his lower lip with a playfully thoughtful hum, “Well, I guess that means you just need to fuck me more, Mr. Murdock.”
“Oh?” he chuckles, too, and sits up, turning to angle your chin up towards him with his forefinger curled beneath it. the pad of his thumb runs over your lower lip, and he grins wide. “I think I can do that, Mrs. Murdock.”
Me to my sister-in-law on Instagram: “Awww, look, Charlie Cox wants to guest star on Bluey. He’s too cute to live!”
Me to the void on tumblr: “I want Matt Murdock to [redact] me in the shower. If I die play Guilty as Sin? at my funeral.”
and the answer is yes im annoying and no i will never shut up. now watch these tiktoks.
matt murdock
remus and tonks...
captain america bnw 2
endgame 2 3
cherik and florida
hugh jackman let me bite u 2 3 4
no way home 😥😥
splatty
daenerys targaryen is... the prince who was promised (if u watch got pls watch this edit)
more cherik I CANT I NEED UGH STOP 2
pls do me all day captain
oo that sounded really bratty! 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
lol stucky was never casual hahahah except its not funny
andrew garfield. thats all.
sexy boy rj lupin
like one hour long wanda edits 2 3
guess what else wasnt casual...
i love u bobby 2
my fav lesbian witch (and her show) 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
thunderbolts 2
marauders
ok so in conclusion i love me some edits!
@oh-tobeafrog thank you for inspiring me with this galaxy brain take on my two favorite marvel heroes :)
original post here
Been a really long time since I've watched Daredevil but I do remember coming away from it feeling like it presented a pretty compelling internally-consistent moral justification for the vigilante thing. You're not planet-crackingly powerful, it's just that you can hear, in detail, every awful thing your neighbors are doing to each other, every night that they're doing it. You can't not know and you can't pretend not to know and when the kid tells you the next day that he just fell down the stairs you can't fall back on the provided ambiguity to absolve yourself of your responsibility to act. Semi-relatedly, you're really really good at martial arts. Start the clock
The first time he feels it, he doesn’t realize it for what it is.
It’s a whisper in his ear. Sinister, cruel. It sounds like Stick. It sounds like Fisk.
Matt shakes it off and goes on his day. It’s an anomaly. It’s trauma or a side effect from that hit he took last night. It’s an isolated incident.
Until it’s not.
matt and foggy as holmes/watson based off that one interaction in vol 1
“Everybody makes sacrifices for this lifestyle, Mr. Sam.” Peter says solemnly.
Sam gapes at him. “Sacrifices? I was an international fugitive for this ‘lifestyle’. I was on the run for months for this ‘lifestyle’. The Winter f-ing Soldier drop-kicked me off a helicarrier! Your underdeveloped teenage brain has no idea what I’ve put up with for this ‘lifestyle’!"
“Great, so a bunny shouldn’t be too much work!”
Yea he has hobby’s what about it
the local vigilantes all know clint is deaf, so when they’re talking to him, they pull their mask up to show their mouths. even when he has his hearing aids in, they still accommodate him so he doesn’t have to rely on the aids.
matt: so, i’ll—
clint, eyes squinted and trying to decipher what’s being said with only one hearing aid’s battery charged: uh-huh uh-huh
matt as he turns to face clint: you could’ve just said something. i’m blind, you know
clint responding after a minute: i don’t think i heard you right
peter: AND THEN I ASKED HIM IF HE COULD CATCH A CAR BUT OBVIOUSLY HE COULDNT
clint, nodding absently:
peter: why havent you responded to me :(
clint, nodding absently:
peter: … you have your hearing aids on. i know they’re charged
clint, nodding absently:
peter: oh my fucking god he turned them off.
(peter pulls his mask up)
clint: goddamnit.
(clint closes his eyes)
peter: i dont talk THAT much damn bro
https://archiveofourown.org/works/52585972/chapters/166283593
To Touch the Star(s) - Chapter 2: Of Shop Boys and Boys Who Work in Shops
Summary: Just because Matt worked at a Shop, didn't mean he was a Shop Boy at heart. Even if Victoria wanted to see him as one so badly.
Pairing: Matt Murdock/Yvaine (eventually), Victoria/Humphrey
Word Count: 2683
Rating: Mature
Tags: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Canonical Character Death, Retelling, Fantasy, Blind Character, Blind Matt Murdock, Blind Tristan Thorn
Written for:
@anyfandomangstbingo : Proposal
@anyfandomfluffbingo : Throwing Pebbles at the Window
@fandom-free-bingo :
Friendship of Convenience - August Chaos Friendship Edition
"I love you," "So you should" - Book Night Edition
"I don't have anything left to lose.", I'm Tryin' to Matter in Someone' Else's Eyes', Travel to Every Continent - Dream Edition
FREE SPACE, Sword OR Letter Opener, Date Gone Wrong - Fool's Edition
Dueling - Half-Baked Edition
Unemployed - Maritime May
Not Understanding, Sword OR Letter Opener - Tolkien Edition
Unemployed - Wild Edition
I guess that's just what we get for making up pairs so rare no one else thinks about them 😂💜❤️💚
I read Gardening… by 42donotpanic and haven't been able to get these three out of my mind since.
Do not ask me where Clint's other hand is. I do not know.
This arrangement has been described to me as "people macrame".
I read Gardening… by 42donotpanic and haven't been able to get these three out of my mind since.
Do not ask me where Clint's other hand is. I do not know.
This arrangement has been described to me as "people macrame".
FIC WRITING REVIEW 2024
Thank you @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for coming up with this!
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some qualitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either. Artists and gif makers, please also join in with any quantitative or qualitative stats or facts you want to share about your year.
(I just did mostly the same thing as last year. Thank you @evenfallreads for tagging me again)
Since I hit 100 posted works on New Year's Eve 2024, I hit 200 works on June 30th and (with two works that will still go up later today) 300 works on New Year's Eve 2024. That number includes 50 podfics that I posted since starting with Voiceteam in May.
Words and Fics
578,447 words published in 2024
675,494 words written in 2024
206 works worked on
189 completed works
most productive month: July with 78,528 words written
monthly words average: 56,329 words written
Top 5 Pairings
James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton - 42 (I didn't plan this to happen, but I am very happy about it)
Clint Barton/Matt Murdock - 24
Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson - 23
Clint Barton/Original Character - 10
Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier - 7
Top 5 by Comments
Learning to Live again -58
Feel my Signs and Watch my Words (AUgust Writing Challenge 2024) - 42
Flowers on Your Skin (HawkTober 2024) - 28
Building a Relationship - 15
Springtime Fluff - 14
Top 5 by Kudos
The Sound and Color of Flowers - 210
Every last Piece - 202
Of Pain and Paper Bracelets - 195
I've Meant it all - 192
Accidental Striptease - 169
Top 5 by Hits
Learning to Live again - 2988
Building a Relationship - 2900
Now I wear my scars just like Tattoos - 2153
Of Pain and Paper Bracelets - 2098
Accidental Striptease - 1780
Fandom Events in 2024
For this part, I'm only adding in Bingos and Events with a hard deadline that I was able to get a bingo/blackout for, because otherwise this list would never end.
Bingos
[11/25] Bucky Barnes Bingo Round 5 - Bingo
[10/25] WinterHawk Bingo Round 5 - Bingo
July Break Bingo(s) - DNF
[9/9] Any Fandom LGBTQ Bingo - Black out
[8/25] WinterIron Bingo - Bingo
[9/9] Writers Pride Month Bingo - Black out
[4/25] both Kill-A-Character Bingos - DNF (will probably continue writing for this anyway)
Writing Challenge's
[14/14] Flufftober Spring Edition 2024
[14/14] April Showers bring M-AU Flowers
[31/31] AU-gust Writing Challenge 2024
[16/30] Tropetember 2024
[31/31] HawkTober 2024
[2/7] Trick-AU-Treat 2024
[7/30] Comfy-Vember 2024
[31/31] Whumpcember 2024
Writing Reflection
After getting into writing last year I went mildly to totally insane this year. I wrote more than I even thought possible, already upped my writing goal in January after writing like 30k on WIPs alone in two weeks, only to then end up hitting my yearly writing goal in September anyway.
I got into Podfic this year and it has brought me a lot of joy to work on recording and editing, as well as to participate in even more challenges and exchanges than I did last year.
Once again, I met a lot of lovely people and had a great time writing and simply enjoying fandom with people I like to consider friends by now.
There were many ups and downs, but I'm glad to say that, over all, this year was a good one for me.
I hope you had a good year as well and wish everyone a good start into the New Year. 💜
Tagging: @stripedscribe @ravenmold @cnwolf-brainrot @mutuallyprime @flowerparrish and everyone else who sees this and would like to participate!
EVERYONE LOOK AT SOMFT MATTY!
THIS IS SO CUTE, I LOVE IT!
quick doodle inspired by this very sweet ficlet by @42donotpanic
Guess who made a Moodboard for Day 5 of @whumpcember and then forgot to post it.... Yeah, right...
Anyway:
For the Prompt "Concussion" because God knows Matt has a lot of those...
Mutants and Lawyers - Masterlist
Mutants and Lawyers
A College AU in which Matt and Foggy are Roommates, Charles and Erik are broken up and it takes all of them meeting in unusual ways to realise they belong to each other.