#snakehole

[hug-kiss-marry-kill]

[realfernmayo]

Don't mind me, just revisiting my favorite college Matt filth.

just the tip, princess | matt murdock x f!reader | one-shot

masterlist | art | thoughts

summary: it's finals week. maybe a study night turn truth-or-dare is the one thing you need to finally relax.

warnings: college matt murdock, drinking (only a little), religious references (BLASPHEMY), matt's cocky personality, oral m and f receiving, protected p in v, orgasm denial, penetration denial (i think?), look there's a lot in this

a/n: in honour of all the recent dd news, i give you this: an unholy anthology of self-indulgence. that is all.

accompanying songs: so it goes… (taylor swift) & false god (taylor swift)

Matt’s voice breaks your concentration, tearing you away from your short-response test booklet. “One more practice question, and then we’ll take a break, deal?” 

You fling a hand out to the side, swatting at him absentmindedly until your finger finds its mark against his lips. “Shh, Matty, one sec, let me finish this.”

He gives you a reluctant sigh as your pencil scratches away at the paper, movement flickering in the corner of your eye as he waves his hand around his feet. His fingers close around something quietly tucked away to the side of your desk, liquid sloshing in the bottle as he brings it up to his lips.

“Matthew Murdock,” you mock-gasp, eyeing him with a mix of awe and disdain, “we have a final in two days and you’re supposed to be studying.”

He shrugs, taking another big sip.

“Oh, give me that,” you chastise, reaching forward for the bottle, but he swerves out of the way haphazardly, wheels rattling as his chair thumps against the side of your bed. You turn to face him as he’s knocked off balance by the impact, tapping your pencil on your chin as you watch him feel for the mattress behind him, then as he hoists himself up on the bed.

“Foggy said we could have this to ourselves,” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows, then the bottle – “so I brought it with me.”

Your lips press together in disbelief before curling into a wry smile. “Fireball, Matthew? You’re drinking straight Fireball.” You shake your head as he tips the bottle into his mouth. “You’re sick.”

“It tastes go–” he rasps, fist coming up to his face as he coughs. “It tastes good!”

You set your pencil down on the paper, eyes quickly scanning over what’s been written, curt nod affirming your satisfaction of the response. “Okay then,” you lean forward on your knees, interlacing your fingers under your chin, “are you gonna share any? Since, y’know, it’s for the both of us.”

He tilts his head to the side, hand coming up to wipe his mouth before nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You want some?”

You shrug indifferently. “Yeah, I’ll indulge.” 

You reach forward for the bottle but he yanks it backwards, head tipping back with roaring laughter.

“Matt, give it to me!”

He flashes you a shit-eating smirk as he raises his eyebrows. “You want it that badly?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You hide your flustered face in your hands. “You little sh–”

He holds out the bottle in front of him, head cocked, intently listening to the shuffle of your feet against the carpet. “Well? Are you gonna come and get it?”

You huff, hand beginning to close around the bottleneck, brushing against the slippery glass where the whiskey’s spilled down the side, but he pulls backwards again. 

“Matthew Michael Murdock!” you bellow, watching him clutch his side as he breaks out into an infectious fit of laughter.

A sound of bewilderment. “How do you know my middle name?!”

You scrunch your nose, slapping his knee. “I’m your best friend, silly. It’s my job to find out.”

“Foggy told you, didn’t he?”

Silence from you.

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Foggy looked at my state ID and told you, right?” 

“Maybe!” you yelp, suddenly very interested in your essay.

“You both looked at my ID?! You pickpocketed me?!”

You throw out a measly insult as you avert your gaze, face hot with embarrassment. “Don’t get all preachy on me now, Murdock.” 

He gasps with feigned disbelief, hand curling tighter around the bottleneck as the other points to the ceiling. “Don’t bring the big guy into this.” 

“You– oh! God, now I need a drink.”

Without second thought, you lunge at him, but as if he can predict your every movement, he sticks his foot out to trip you as you reach for the bottle. Suddenly, you’re a flurry of arms, movement and profanities, tumbling forward into something that breaks your fall… something warm, comforting, surprisingly muscular.

Not something.

Matt.

The world stops for a second as you hover on top of him, his Fireball-tinged breath mixing with yours, chest growing taut as your mouths are mere centimetres apart. It feels as if your heartbeat completely vanishes for a second, thick silence accompanied with only the sound of your stuttered breathing and the blood roaring in your head. You study the deep rise and fall of his chest, ignoring the unfamiliar feeling coursing through your veins as his arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. 

His tongue snakes out to wet his lips, and that movement alone sends you down to hell. Your stomach falls through your body, dampening your panties with a sudden desire you didn’t think you possessed. Sure, Matt’s attractive and all, and he knows it – well, surely he has to, considering the number of people in your cohort alone who wanted to take him to bed – but you’ve never looked at him that way. He’s always been your friend, your support system. Insufferable at times.

You flick your gaze downwards to where your legs are, straddled over his hips. You’re hovering over him, but with one little movement, just one… you’d be pressed up entirely against him. You’re suspended here, unaware of how heavy your breathing has become, consumed with thoughts about your best friend that friends just… aren’t supposed to have.

This can’t happen.

It’s an awkward shuffle as you push off him and shoot straight back into your chair, but it’s followed by the exchanging of gently stifled laughter, ice quickly broken as you take advantage of his stupor, snatching the bottle off him. 

The liquor goes down easy. Easier than expected.

“Damn Murdock,” you say in between mouthfuls, “you’re lucky you didn’t spill any on my bed, or I would’ve kicked your ass.”

His retort comes out fast. “I kinda wanna see you try, but you’d get in trouble.” Your eyebrow arches at the cheeky grin that proceeds. “Y’know, for beating up a blind person.”

The opportunity to stick your tongue out at him is a moment rarely passed up, and this situation changes nothing. 

He grabs the bottle off you. “Hey, stop making faces at me. I can tell by the way your mouth moves.” His attempt to mimic you falls flat, and all he has to show for it is the cutest frown.

“Not even close, Murdock.”

Nothing prepares you for the effect his resounding snort has on you; the way it makes itself home in the centre of your chest, the sweet sound sending your brain into overdrive. You’re looking at him, big shiny eyes and all, flitting over his every breath, his every action. Fuck, it’s like he’s laced the atmosphere or something, drawing you to him like a moth to flame. 

God fucking damn it. He always knew how to tease you, how to leave you biting back a smile, but this time, the feeling isn’t irksome. He’s getting your heartrate up, making you cross your legs, leaving you wanting to twirl your hair and kick your fucking feet together.

Thank God your roommate is away, even if for a few nights. You’re thanking your lucky stars, because if she were here, she would’ve made at least ten comments about how you two needed to fuck already. You can hear her voice, clear as day, echoing in your mind. ‘Stop flirting and just do it already. It’ll probably be the best of your life.”

You clench at her latter comment, at the way she’s so nonchalantly arrived at that conclusion. Your spine tingles at the thought, at the way you secretly want to find out for yourself. 

Maybe all this is the result of the universe telling you to get laid.

By him.

No! Not by him. 

You know you want it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, ignoring the angel and devil sitting on your shoulders, “I cannot believe you asked me for a break, Matt. I didn’t think the word was in your vocabulary.”

Amusement glints in his laugh.

“Ahh,” you start, nodding, “it’s because you’re drunk. I so knew ordinary Matty wouldn’t ask for a break.”

He reaches for your hand, which you give him without a second thought, to pull you and your chair towards him, wheels turning against the carpet. Suddenly you’re close to him again, knees touching as he shakes the bottle from side-to-side. “More drinking, less observing?” 

A giggle eases from your lips as you lean forwards, forehead touching against Matt’s. His skin is warm against yours, presumably from the alcohol in his system, and your lips flicker into a smile.

“What uh… what are you thinkin’ about?” he asks, tilting his chin downwards as he pushes harder against your forehead.

You bite back a yelp, fighting every instinct within you to keep your composure as his hands creep forward to interlace his fingers with yours. Every nerve in your body is firing at rates beyond your comprehension as his breath fans over your face, pearly grin tugging at the knot building behind your stomach.

“I… um–” The growing smile on your face does little to hide your thoughts, and you can only muster a few words as your voice comes out in a squeak. “Um… drink, please?” 

Matt lets out a breathy laugh as he pulls away, reaching down to retrieve the bottle by his feet. He brings it up to your face, nudging the lip of the bottle towards your mouth. Your toes curl at the action, thighs snapping together to curb the building throbbing between your legs, but you quickly polish off what little remains in the bottle, praying that the burn of the whiskey is distraction enough from your feelings.

It works well enough.

“So,” Matt asks, listening to the creak in your chair as you set the empty bottle on the ground, “what do you wanna do?”

“Hmm?” 

“C’mon, let’s do something. What about a game? Do you wanna play a game?”

You squint your eyes as you examine your nails, picking at invisible dirt along your cuticles. “A game, Matthew?”

“Yeah. Somethin’ like… I dunno, truth or dare?”

“What are you, sixteen?”

Matt scoffs, slapping his hands on his knees. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

That whiskey-burn “distraction” lasted all of thirty seconds.

The little whine in his voice widens your eyes, more so as you notice Matt’s growing smirk, and the way he tries to hide it in his hands as he waits for your answer. You’re not sure if it’s the liquor talking or well, just you, but your answer rolls off your tongue.

“Alright Matt,” you say, getting up off your chair to sit across him on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “Care to go first?”

The bed dips as he shuffles towards you, nestling his head in your lap. “Nothing would bring me a greater honour,” – a comment that makes you roll your eyes –  “truth or dare?”

“Wait a second, is there a punishment if we don’t want to do something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, if you ask me something and I don’t wanna answer it.”

“Oh! I mean yeah, I guess you don’t have to.”

You flash a smile at him as he relaxes his body, bending one knee as he straightens his other leg. “Truth.”

“Hmm… lemme see.” He purses his lips together as he thinks of a question. “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

A wistful look dances across your face as you contemplate his question. “That’s– that’s surprisingly a good question. Alright, well, still close to you and Foggy, of course. And, I dunno, maybe have my own law firm. Ooh! And I wanna travel. Europe, especially.”

Matt hums at your answer. “That’s a lot of things.” He waits a moment before adding, “I like that about you. You’re ambitious.”

You swallow thickly as his words brand themselves in your head. “Y-your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“The same question then. Where are you in ten years?

Matt grins. “Still here, in the city. And… I have a law firm. It’s called Nelson and Murdock” – he brandishes an invisible sign in the air before continuing – “Attorneys at Law.” Your heart skips a beat at his earnest confession.

He goes quiet. “I, uh, I just wanna do what’s right, y’know?”

“Yeah, Matt,” you whisper. “I’m excited to see where this all takes you. And it’s sweet that you and Foggy picked that out already.”

Matt beams, in no particular direction. “Alright. Your turn again. Truth or dare?”

You hesitate for a second. “Dare.”

“Aw, but I’m so comfy lying here.” 

You hiss at him as you pinch his shoulder. 

“Fine, fine. Okay. I dare you to… tell me a secret you’ve never told anyone.”

“Matthew Murdock, is that not a thinly veiled truth?”

He reaches behind him to pat your thigh, biting his lip at your discovery.

Oh, you’re gonna make him regret being lazy. You contort yourself over him, leaning down into his ear. “When I was in high school, I snuck a friend of mine in through the window and we…” you drop your voice, whispering the rest of your story, dragging out every syllable so the words stick in his mind.

His face reddens at your admission, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tries to find the words, but they don't come out. Your next words are laced with the smugness of your previous efforts. “You go now.”

“I choose dare.”

“I dare you to call Foggy and say you’re madly in love with him.”

Matt erupts into laughter. “You’re not serious.”

“Feel my heartbeat, Matthew.” You pick up a hand from where they’re folded on his chest, lifting his palm towards you. Your eyes lull back in your head as he flattens his hand against the left side of your chest, voice shaking as you speak. “See, Matthew? Steady.”

He sits up in a flash, holding his palm outstretched as you hand him his phone, Foggy’s number already dialling. 

Loud music blares over the phone speaker. ‘Hello? Matt? You okay?’

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, um–”

“Matt, you’re gonna have to speak up a little.” A woman’s voice calls out Foggy’s name.

Matt clears his throat, raising his voice just a little. He bites his lip, tilting his head away from your snicker. “I love you, Foggy.”

“Oh man! I love you too, buddy.”

You nudge Matt to say the words. “No, no, I mean, I love you.”

“I love you too!”

“No!” Matt pushes his hair back, exasperated. “I mean, I’m in love with you.”

A moment of silence fills the air.

That woman’s voice again. “Foggy, is everything okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” – Foggy says to the woman, before focusing back on Matt. “Um… everything alright with you, Matt?”

“Yes! I lo– Everything’s fine. I’ll just… I'll see you tomorrow.” 

The phone clicks off without another word.

“Oops,” you tease, words slurring a little, “sounds like someone has some explaining to do.”

Matt cracks his knuckles before placing his phone back on your desk. “Oh I am definitely going to get you back.”

.

Sprawled vertically on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge, you lay shoulder-to-shoulder with Matt, the contents of the Fireball bottle already long gone. Your hands are clasped together on your chest as your eyelids flutter closed, content in Matt’s presence. The last couple hours were the most fun you had in a long time, and God knows you deserve it, especially after this semester.

Matt is the first to break your temporary silence, words quiet as he directs them towards the ceiling. “So, you think Foggy and Marci are gonna last?” 

“I dunno Matt, I think your little confession there might’ve broken them for good.”

A half-smile blossoms across his lips. “You know what? I wouldn’t blame Foggy for picking me. I am loveable after all.”

“You are very loveable. Even my roommate thinks so.”

“Really? Her? I didn’t think she could love anyone.”

“Yep,” you sigh, stretching your arms out and putting your hands behind your head. “She loves you so much she thinks that we should get together. Sorry, I mean, that we should” – you lower your voice – “hook up, for lack of a better… less rude… word.” A shiver runs through your body at what you’ve just said.

Matt’s on his side in a nanosecond, facing you as he props himself up on one elbow. His expression is unreadable, mouth tight-lipped as he cocks his head to the side.

You take it as a cue to keep going. “She’s always saying it, seriously. I think she tells people in the hallway, too. And I think Foggy knows? But I haven’t really given it much th–”

“Would that… would that be the worst thing?”

Your eyebrows furrow together, face flooding with confusion. “Huh?”

Matt goes on. “I mean, people don’t really say stuff like that if they don’t mean it, right?”

It takes a full minute for you to register what he’s saying, and you move quickly to respond as the heat begins to bloom in your chest again. “Oh trust me, she says a lot of things she doesn’t mean.”

“No, but, would it really be the worst thing in the world?”

You shudder, every subsequent breath getting heavier. “What are you asking me?”

You watch as Matt’s nostrils flare, as his tongue peeks out to lick his lips again. You’re mirroring him, in the same position that he is, propped up and lying on your side. He lifts a finger to your arm on top, tracing your skin from elbow to shoulder with a featherlight touch. It loosens a gasp that comes from your chest.

“I’m asking you… if it would be the worst thing in the world.” Something shifts in Matt’s face, and he looks uneasy now. “What if…” – he lowers his voice to a whisper – “I wanted to… do that with you?”

No fucking way.

“Do… what? Matt, where is this coming from?”

He tentatively shuffles closer to you, but still keeping a far enough distance that you can roll away if you need to. “Your roommate’s right. I think we should stop pretending.”

No. Fucking. Way.

“Matt, of course it would be the worst thing in the world. I mean, okay, not the worst thing, but sex can ruin friendships. And c’mon, I’m not ready to lose you.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you get the words out. “Besides, I’ve– I’ve never thought of you like that.”

“That’s a lie.”

You suck your cheeks in, the silence louder than anything you could’ve said to defend yourself. A shit-eating grin appears on his face. “You’ve been thinking about me like that tonight, haven’t you?”

Damn you, Matthew Murdock. “Fine. I have. Is that what you want to hear?”

He sits upright now, smirk disappearing, tilting his chin towards the ground as he plays off a nervous chuckle. It’s as if your answer isn’t what he was expecting. “Look, I just– I like you, okay? I’ve had a really great night, and I– I don’t want to do anything to ruin that. Or our friendship. So, it’s– don’t worry about it.”

He reaches for his cane, neatly folded on your desk, but you make a split-second decision, feeling your heartbeat race as you grab his wrist and tug him back onto the bed. “What if…” 

He raises his eyebrows, beckoning you to continue. “What if we, um, I don’t know, this is gonna sound stupid but, what if we explored this using the game? Using truth or dare?” You wait a moment to read his expression. “That way it’s just a game right? And it won’t mean anything, unless we want it to.”

“That’s– that’s good. That’s smart. I like that,” he nods. “And we can end the game at any time.”

You affirm what he’s saying. “Yes, if there’s something either of us don’t want to do, we can say the word.”

“Wait,” you pause. “I– maybe that was stupid. I think we’re both drunk.”

Matt furrows his eyebrows. “I’m not drunk.”

You bite your lip, answering him quietly. “Neither am I.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

“You wanna… go first?” Matt gulps.

Your chest caves inwards, heart thundering so hard it feels like it could burst out of your ribcage. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Your knees go weak at the word. “I dare you to… come closer to me.”

Matt pauses for a moment to take his glasses off, setting them down on your desk. Then, he turns towards your voice, laying down to face you where you’re still propped up, where you’ve been this entire time. The only difference is that he’s close now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the way his breath flutters against your lips. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you murmur.

“When was the first time you… thought of me like that?”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you recall the memory. “It was the first year of college, when Foggy tried to hit on me and you apologised for his behaviour.”

Matt grimaces. “I’m sorry about that… again, and so is Foggy. But that’s… wait a minute,” his eyes narrow, “that was forever ago!” He presses his lips into a choked laugh as you punch his arm.

Ignoring him, your stomach starts to flip as you ask Matt the next question. “Truth or dare?”

His mouth moves into a cheeky grin. “Dare.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck– “I dare you to kiss me.”

The butterflies roil in your stomach as he smiles at you earnestly, bringing one hand up to cup your jaw. His grip is firm, melding to the contours of your face with a surprising ease. He holds you there for a second as he blows a soft chuckle your way, flooding your face with a heat that crawls up your body. He leans forward, slowly, melting his lips against yours, so softly that you can’t fight the moan that slips from your mouth. 

The kiss is everything you ever imagined it would be, his mouth moulding to yours in a way that turns your legs to jelly. He nips affectionately at your bottom lip, using your slight surprise to slip his tongue against yours; the taste of Fireball so, so faint. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe, breaking the kiss, your foreheads still touching, his hand still on your jaw. 

“Oh my God,” Matt affirms, eyes squeezed shut as he loosens a breath. 

“I pick dare,” you whisper, biting your lip as Matt reciprocates your shy smile. 

“Okay, I dare you to…,” he pauses for a second, pursing his lips, “tell me what you want.”

“That isn’t a dare.”

He’s insistent. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Matt. I want you.”

His nostrils flare in response, tips of his ears going pink as he nods, leaning in to kiss you again. Tangling one hand in your hair, he flattens his other palm against your collarbone, mouth roving over your jaw, then trailing down your neck, sucking on a sensitive spot near your shoulder that makes you moan. Your hands press against his chest, relishing in the way he grunts at your touch. 

“Matthew,” you groan into his hair, as he soothes the bruise on your neck with his tongue, “I want to take your clothes off.”

“You wanna take my clothes off?” 

“Mmhm.” And another moan as he guides you to lay flat on your back. 

“That’s not a dare either.”

“I know what I said.”

He doesn’t waste any time in tugging his shirt over his head, leaving only his leather-corded crucifix hanging around his neck, metal cross dangling off his chest as he moves down to kiss you. You’re breathless, unable to speak, utterly incoherent as he grinds himself into your core, the evidence of his growing arousal straining against his sweatpants.

“Damn you, Matthew,” you exhale, pulling your own shirt over your head, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the side. 

“What?” he moans, hands moving over your skin, your breasts now bare to him. 

You yelp as he rolls your nipples in his fingers, expression darkening as he acquaints himself with your body, the way you buck your hips up into his. “You’re so—“

“Loveable?”

Your head tips back with a cry as his mouth seals around your nipple, tongue flicking against the hardened peak. “No— well, yes, but fuck you’re just… how long have you been hiding that… body underneath those pullovers? Has anyone told you how good you look?”

“I may or may not have heard that a few times.”

You smirk as his mouth meets yours. “Foggy doesn’t count.”

“In that case,” he rasps in your ear, deft fingers trailing up your inner thigh to then unclasp the button of your jeans, “you can be my first.”

Your lips move over his chest as the words flutter into his skin, catching the cross in your teeth. You yank at it lightly, the strained breath he gives you music to your ears. “Oh Matthew, now you’re giving me the honour.” 

Mouth curving upwards, Matt hooks his hands into the waistband of your jeans and panties simultaneously, taking his sweet time in dragging the fabric down your legs, exposing you, inch-by-inch until you’re completely bare for him. 

Even though the two of you were close before this, closer than most friends were, it feels… jarring to expose yourself like this. With other guys, you wouldn’t hesitate; you’d keep going, get them undressed, have your fun and be done with it, but it’s not like that with Matt. 

He’s one of the few people that makes you nervous.

Your legs instinctively move closer to cover yourself but he wedges a hand in between your knees. 

Oh, he’s good. He knows, somehow, what you’re feeling.

So he says something that knocks any semblance of your apprehension on its head, something that makes you throb.

“Keep ‘em open. I want you spread for me.”

You surge upwards, the intensity of his words spurring you on, pressing wet kisses down his chest. One to his crucifix, one to his sternum, one in the middle of his– Jesus Christ, those abs. He cards his fingers through your hair at the sensation of your tongue dragging up his navel before nipping at his jaw, stubble scratching at your mouth. Your pussy floods at the guttural moan he makes as your fingers graze over the outline of his cock, the idle circle you trace on his head making him twitch. Your lips meet his as you replace your fingers with your palm, shuddering at the string of dirty curses he groans into your mouth. 

You pull away only to marvel at the size of him under your hand, every thick inch of him tenting painfully against his sweatpants. Foggy had mentioned in passing that Matt was packing, but this? Oh, you didn’t expect this. 

“Matty,” you exhale, “let me taste you.”

He raises a hand to your chin, tilting your head back with his grip to deepen his next kiss. “Anything you want.”

You latch your fingers onto the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers underneath, pulling it down to his mid-thighs, unable to contain your gasp as his cock springs free. Your eyes pulsate at the sight of him, pupils completely blown as you take him in his entirety, perfection as you’ve ever seen from base to tip. 

You lick first at the precum beading at the head, the salty taste of him coating your tastebuds as he bucks his hips involuntarily onto your outstretched tongue, eyes lulling in the back of your head at the primal sound that escapes his lips. You look up at him with your doe-eyes, watching a muscle feather in his jaw as you wrap your lips around him, flicking your tongue over his tip. He caresses your face with his hands, fingers supporting your jaw as you take all of him in. He hisses as he finds the back of your throat, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you begin to bob your head, not caring that you’re sloppy, that the spit is dribbling from your mouth all over him. From the way he’s grunting your name, you don’t think he minds either.

Matt hums your name dulcetly as you begin to use your mouth and hands in tandem, begging you to let go of his cock, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you as you pull away to wipe your mouth. 

“Lay down on your back,” he commands softly, making quick work of shedding the only pieces of clothing left on his body. He kneels for you on the bed as you shuffle back, spreading your legs for him once again. It’s from this angle that your mouth goes dry; the sight of his glistening cock, wet from your spit, ready for the taking.

He leans down to nip at your earlobe as he traces himself up and down your folds, slapping your clit with his cock once. He chuckles deeply in your ear at the mewl you make, purring for you to make the sound again. 

So you do.

“Condom, Matthew,” you whisper, breath caught in your throat as you reach over to your nightstand, but he grabs a hold of your wrist and shakes his head.

Your eyes widen at his answer. “I don’t need it just yet.”

He hovers over you for a second, just long enough for you to catch his crucifix in your teeth again, before moving down, settling in between your thighs. You’re sucking your cheeks in at his hot breath against your dripping pussy, so slick with arousal that the air is thick with it, but he doesn’t do anything. He just grins.

He tilts his chin upwards to grin at you, the gesture a little mirthless; a predator about to devour their prey. The metal cross swings with his movements, and you almost bite through your bottom lip as it hits against your clit.

“Not so much a godly man now, are you Matthew? I didn’t think you were allowed to do… this,” you smirk, squeezing your eyes shut as he pinches your clit with his thumb and forefinger.

“I get a pass, y’know, since I get to make an angel feel good.”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips. “Matty… you don’t mean–”

He cuts you off, his sweet tone darkening in an instant. “But since you bring it up, yeah, I’m no saint.” He lifts your hips, shoving his hands under your ass as he brings your pussy to his face.

“But out of all the sins in the world, all that we could’ve chosen to commit…” he clicks his tongue, nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent, “I promise, sweetheart, this one will feel the best.”

And with that, he dives into you. 

You’re a squirming mess on his tongue as he licks a broad stripe up your centre, tasting all that you have to offer. He seals his lips around your clit, flicking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, until your back is arched off the bed, until you’re gasping and unable to stop the moans breaking from within. 

Matt’s always been polite, classy, the perfect person to bring home to meet your parents, but the way he’s slurping at you like you’re his last meal on earth? 

“Naughty, naughty boy,” you purr, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he slips his tongue inside you. You’re grinding into his face at this point, desperate to be filled, to be stretched out, desperate to cum for him as many times as you can. 

Your muscles go taut as you near the edge, the threads of your willpower unravelling to one final, fraying strand. He knows it too, that sly bastard, and breaks away from you with one final kiss to your clit.

“Not yet,” he grins, licking wet circles up your thigh. 

“Goddamn you, Murdock,” you huff, pulling him up by the shoulders until he’s breathing down your face. 

He runs his thumb over the seam of your lips, nudging you for entry. He grits his teeth as you flick your tongue against the pad of his finger, while reaching into your nightstand for a condom. He smirks as you slap the foil packet against your hand a few times, groaning as he pumps himself with his fist. That shit-eating, stomach-stirring smirk grows bigger as he hears you rip the packet open, then as you slide the condom out of the wrapper. 

Matt’s hand is outstretched, beckoning for the piece of latex held between your fingers, but you smack it away, wiping all the smug off his face. The moan he murmurs as you squeeze his heavy cock in your hand makes your walls flutter; it makes you ache with the idea of him fucking up into you as deep as he can.

He shudders, sharply exhaling as you roll the condom onto him, then as you tease your slick entrance with the blunt head of his cock.

“We can’t go back from this,” you mumble, breath stuttering as you coat him in your arousal.

His chest heaves with the thought of you, wrapped around him, saying his name like a prayer. “I’m pretty sure it’s a little too late, y’know, considering what we’ve already done.” 

He coaxes the tiniest whimper from your mouth as his fingers brush over your clit.

“Hear me out, Matty…” you start, flattening your palms against his chest.

“Yes, angel?”

“What if… what if you just…” 

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Just what? Whatever you want, angel. I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I dare you…” – you linger your fingertip on the curve of his jaw, before tracing his shoulder – “to put just the tip in me.”

“First of all, we’re still doing that? The game?” 

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Secondly, just the tip? You know that still counts as sex, right?”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Okay, I’ll put it in and you tell me that doesn’t count.” His smug smirk that follows spurs you to punch him in the arm.

“Alright Matthew, we’ll see about that.”

“I promise,” he rasps in your ear, teasing himself at your entrance, pushing the slightest bit of himself in, just to make you squeal, “I’ll have you begging for more.”

Your resounding yelp is poorly masked, and it only makes his coy smile grow larger. You’ve known for a long time that Matt was a bit of a manwhore, but he was always so… innocent around you. Never, never in a million years did you think he was capable of… this. 

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, chest heaving as he grunts your name, propping a pillow under your hips. “Just the tip, Matthew.” 

He leans his weight onto the forearm bracketing your head. “Just the tip, princess.”

You hiss through your teeth as he pushes into you, words transcending you in that moment at the burn of this thick cock stretching you out. You expect the burn to follow through, waiting for the sensation of being oh-so-deliciously full of him, but he moves only a little, only until just the tip of him sits inside you. Oh fucking hell. There is absolutely no way you’re going to let him win this one.

Relaxing your grip on his shoulders, you bite back the exhale that conveys your need, forcing back the urge to squirm on his cock for the friction you so desperately want. 

“God,” he grunts, “I’m barely inside you and you feel so… fucking good.” 

You allow yourself one breathy moan. Just one. 

You’re doing so well, keeping it together, showing absolutely no indication that you need him guts deep inside you, pounding at a pace that shakes the bed.

But then he starts to move.

Cock twitching in your heat, he jerks his hips so lightly, pressing his head into your warmth, before sliding out until he barely remains inside. He repeats the movement, his half-shudder half-chuckle evidence that he’s noticed the way you’re clenching around him, or the way you’re sitting upright, peering down to see where exactly he’s joined to you.

He’s painfully hard for you, latex glistening with the sheen of your arousal. You tilt your hips upwards to get a better angle, watching as he withdraws himself just that bit further, before thrusting into you; the sight of your folds enveloping his cock enough to make you curse. 

Abs contracting, and every cord of muscle in his arms going tight, you can tell he’s holding back. You can tell by the redness that blooms in his cheeks and the vast expanse of his chest that he wants more. That he needs more, needs to be deeper; so far inside you that all he could fall apart at any second. You watch where the thick head of his cock enters you, sliding in and out deliriously slow, and that’s when the silence breaks. 

All that heavy breathing, those controlled yet shaky stutters as your mouths are pulled apart by pleasure, is interrupted with your drawn out groan as he pushes the next inch into you. Only one inch. One delicious inch.

“Fuck, Matty,” you moan at the sudden fullness, tipping your head back as he flares his nostrils, grunting your name in response to your walls fluttering around him.

It – he – feels so goddamn good, but it isn’t enough. God, for someone who begged to be teased this exact way you’re impatient, so fucking impatient, but you need to find purchase. With every thrust of his hips, the hope – no, the demand – that he says ‘fuck it’ and sheathes himself fully inside you grows, from a dull ache to one that utterly throbs; one that sends reverberating shockwaves through every nerve in your body. 

He was right. Of fucking course he’d be right. Matthew, ever-clever, devastatingly handsome, Mr. ‘I just know you’ll need more of me’ was almost never wrong.

Matt slides his lips down by your ear, voice dropping to a bare whisper as he tangles his fingers in your hair. “Let me fuck you properly, please. I don’t care about the game, I just… I need you.” He lifts one of your legs up, hooking his arm around your thigh, opening you up to him even more.

“C’mon then Matty,” you smirk, flicking your tongue against his lips. “Show me what you got.”

The cry that heaves from your chest as he slams himself into you is nothing short of unholy. He moans your name sinfully as he buries himself to the hilt, hips stuttering as he jerks involuntarily, nudging against that spot inside you that threatens to break you in an instant. You whine at the sudden loss of fullness as he retracts himself, to the point where only the tip of him remains, but he fills you again, the pain from his cock stretching you out giving way to ecstasy. It doesn’t take long for you to splinter around him, for your back to arch as you flood his cock with an earth-shattering orgasm.

And in between his steady thrusts and his languid kisses, he pins your legs back, placing one hand on your waist while the other grazes your throat. His pace is ruthless now, all grunts and groans as he works to bring you to the edge once… no, twice more. This must be what heaven feels like. 

Your legs turn to jelly as he lifts your legs up straight, crossing your ankles over, holding them there as he bites his lip, the new position turning your pussy into a vice. A vice that wants to milk him bone dry. “So… fuckin’.... tight for me, angel,” he musters, panting as every drag of his cock against your walls brings you both closer and closer to falling apart. 

Just as you’re about to cum for him again, he pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach, hoisting your ass up in the air. 

“Matty…” you groan, as he tangles his fingers in your hair, kissing your back as he fucks you, relishing the feeling of your sweat-slick skin on his in the most intimate way possible. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he murmurs, kneading your ass, spreading you apart so he can be as deep in you as possible. You lean back into him, arm reaching around to grab the back of his neck; the movement exposing your throat for his hand to grab. He’s getting sloppy, eyes squeezed shut as you near the edge together.

“Fuck, angel…” he pants, holding you tighter, spilling into you with a sound that turns your world to white. You pulsate around his cock as his hips stutter into yours to give you every last drop.

He collapses into you, holding you tightly, listening just to the sound of your breathing. “I know we said it wouldn’t mean anything but…” 

Your voice comes out in a squeak as he kisses your shoulder softly. “But?” 

A moment of hesitation. “I dunno, that was too good for a once-off game.”

Your mouth curves into a cheeky grin. “Matthew Murdock, pussywhipped already? I didn’t pick you for the type.”

He bites down on your shoulder, smug at your yelp that follows. “Who says it was just tonight that had me pussywhipped?”

You scoff, pushing him off you to sit upright and poke his collarbone. “Hang on a second, was this all some… twisted grand gesture of affection?”

“No! No, I swear, I didn’t plan any of this.”

“Alright, Matty, I believe you.”

He laughs nervously, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Matthew,” you start, sitting up on your knees to throw your hands around his neck. “We just had sex. You don’t have to be nervous to ask me out.”

A shy smile creeps across his face, red blooming in his cheeks. “I’m not nervous–”

You cut him off with a taunting giggle. “Yes, Matthew, I’ll go on a date with you. Of course I will.” A beat, and you poke him in the collarbone again. “So nervous and for what?”

He chuckles lowly, the sound pooling in your core, shaking your arms off him to pounce on you, to lay you flat on your back. “Do I have to do something dramatic to shut you up?”

There’s no mistaking the growing heat between your legs. “Maybe.”

He leans down to nip at your earlobe, smirking against your ear. “Alright then.”

.

You’re awoken to Matt’s elbow in your face and a string of profanities as he scrambles to get under the sheets, laying as still as possible with his head in your thigh. 

“What’s going on?” you hiss, pulling the covers up over your naked chest. 

Your eyes widen as the doorknob to your room turns, faint voices echoing in the hallway outside. “How the fuck did you hear that?” you panic, nudging Matt with your elbow. 

It’s Foggy’s voice that sounds the closest, although he’s still muffled by the door. “... Yeah, he was saying some weird stuff to me last night and he wasn’t home when I got back so I figured they’ve passed out studying together.”

Then your roommate. “Yeah, studying, sure. It’s about time they–” 

“Oh shit.” Foggy gasps dramatically as your knuckles turn white gripping the sheets, surveying the room before him. Nevermind that your thin sheets do absolutely nothing in concealing the obvious outline of Matt’s body; the multiple open condom packets on the ground and the empty bottle of Fireball is evidence enough. Matt’s head pops up from under the covers, his sheepish smile directed at no one in particular.  

Your roommate clasps her hands, smirking as she shakes her head. “I told you, Foggy.”

Foggy’s vacant expression is startled away as his eyes narrow in on the crucifix still hanging from Matt’s neck. “Do not tell me you left that on while you had sex. Why’d you have to bring the big guy into this?” He steps backwards, holding his hands up. “You know what? I’m outta here. I’ll see you” – he points at Matt – “later.”

Your roommate follows Foggy outside a second later, calling out to you as the door shuts softly. “Can you two get dressed? I have an exam in two hours.”

You giggle, pressing a tender kiss to Matt’s lips before whispering in his ear. “Surely there’s time for a little more?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he grins, “absolutely.”

[sheliesshattered]

just watched a really bad movie that was greatly improved by Jack deciding a third of the way in that no, actually, this movie was secretly written by Andy Dwyer and April Ludgate, as fanfiction about their alternate personas Burt Macklin and Janet Snakehole

we spent the rest of the movie cry-laughing at lines that were just so very Burt Macklin, and begging for someone to say 'you son of a bitch'

[liberty-spiked]

watching german soap operas with my mom is fun

[cloudedmoonofficial]

Fennec, Unbound

"There's a group of cats that call themselves rangers gathering in Snakehole," Fennec said. At Lakespeckle and Splash's confused expressions, he added, "Pardon, that's the name we call the big pile of rocks and boulders, landward of here, about half a day's journey."

Splash's own ears pressed forward with interest. "A group?"

"I didn't put much stock in what they said before, but if you were rangers too…" Fennec trailed off. He shook himself carefully, to avoid dripping any of the aloe salve. "Maybe I will join up after all. It could be good for Gosling to be around other cats."

"Don't make decisions for me!" As much as Gosling pouted, there was a twinkle of excitement in her brown eyes.

[stuckinmymind22]

shanks x gn! reader, established relationship, suggestive a/n: y'all ever heard of burt macklin or janet snakehole? (parks and rec)

at every new island docked at you sneak away from each other and put on a silly little disguise and then find each other at a bar. you both are terrible actors - not that that ever stopped you- it just added to the fun honestly

you were the one who started this, partially bc you were afraid he would get bored of you but it turns out he fucking loved it and so did you. this game ended up becoming a tradition for the first night you set foot on a new island

he’s started playing along too, one time he had Yasopp help him make a fake arm (his sleeve was stuffed with cloth and a glove was tied on) you couldn’t help but laugh, breaking character

the fun part is coming up with the insane backstories it was new and unique every time, despite shanks having been on so many adventures, having practically lived a thousand lives, he always gave you a different life story, and with that a new way that he lost his arm. the stories behind his missing limb got more creative and more bizarre as time went on, he took great care not to tell the same fable twice (your favorite so far being that he bet it in a "casual" game of cards or how he had gotten a splinter and "this was the only option")

normally your chemistry was already unmatched, but when you crafted characters that unknowingly fit together so well (which happens more than not, it seems like you guys occupy a similar wavelength to one another) it went to a whole other level, so of course this all ends up back in the bedroom

at the end of the day you like to compliment each other’s performances and laugh at the silly things you did "in character" the tradition might be strange to some, but its yours

a/n: working on a longer version of this, probably up in another day or two

[greattemptation]

[Podfic] The Noble and Most Ancient House of Noir

@rainstormradish, I am so, SO excited to share this with you.

Everyone else, I am so, SO excited to share this with you. This is a hysterically funny, technically flawless, endlessly loving drarry masterpiece. Bite-sized and perfect.

Summary: The Snakehole on Dism Alley had bad lighting and good firewhisky. I sat on a stool at the bar, watching in the mirror as a lady in pearls took drags of her cigarette, puffing out magical smoke rings that turned into swallows and flew away. A saxophone played itself in the corner. The Snakehole was just how I liked it. The perfect place to dwell on schemes and forget to live The parcel could have come from anyone. The question was, who?

Or, Harry overreacts to an unexpected Christmas gift.

Length: 27 minutes Rating: M Pairing: Drarry

One bazillion thanks to @jtimu and @citrusses for all the inspiration and hand holding, and one bazillion more thanks to @starquestingfordrarry and @hoko-onchi-writes for the listening and hand holding. And I know it seems like so many bazillions but here we are with yet one additional bazillion thanks to @sweatersinthesummer for providing such generous guidance for figuring out a few new technical skills!!

[realfernmayo]

Me when Frank:

I could use this after a stressful day, WHEW.

|| Probably Nothing ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: pet names, kissing, grinding, intense fingering.

Here's the plot I couldn't write. 🤣 This one goes out to all my Frank girlies who just need a break. ❤️

You've already had a shit day, and coming home to be greeted by the sight of Frank lounging on the couch with his big dirty boots resting on the coffee table is just one fucking annoying thing too far. You grit your teeth as you throw your stuff in a pile on the floor before stalking over to him.

"Hi sweetheart, how was your day?"

"Off!" You snap at him, your face like brewing thunder.

He doesn't move his feet, just looks at you for a second, reading your expression, considering.

"Okay. That good huh?"

You kick at his boot, not in the mood for games. "Get them off the fucking table, Frank."

He lifts his legs down one at a time. You spin on your heel but before your can move Frank leans out slipping his arm around your waist and yanking you off your feet and into his lap.

"Fuck off Frank! I've got shit to do, let me go!" You hiss.

He keeps his arms snug around you as you're facing him, just tight enough that you can't struggle against and away from his ridiculous strength.

"An I'll let ya get right to it in a minute darlin', but there's something I gotta do first."

You huff and hmph as you finally quit wriggling around realising you're getting nowhere, the warmth of his embrace starting to penetrate through the armour of your bad mood.

"What? What is it?" You demand, annoyed that he's just smiling up at you with that big dumb face of his.

He answers your question with a little peck on your cheek, that's it, just a quick chaste kiss and he's back studying you again. You scowl at him, unmoved.

"Frank… c'mon I don't have time for this."

He cocks his head and hmms before kissing you again on the cheek three more times. He's softer with it, taking his time, moving his mouth closer to yours with each kiss. You turn your head to say something but the words are halted, smooshed to a muffled mumble as he captures your lips in his. The kiss is still so soft, his bottom lip brushing your top one, the slightest bit of tongue flicking up, just testing the waters.

You sigh and he starts to reel you in, taking advantage of the prickly guard you've let down, kissing you so very tenderly as he feels your body gradually begin to loosen in his hold. He tugs gently on your lower lip with his teeth before licking over it and you open up slightly for him as his hand comes to caress your lower jaw. His kiss goes a little deeper now, soft sighs escaping you between the teases of his tongue against yours. But now you don't want teasing, you want more. Every so often he'll break off the kiss, his eyes flicking up to meet yours and he'll smile. Then you realise you're smiling back.

"Mm, oh I think we might be gettin' somewhere." He decides before weaving his fingers through your hair and guiding you back to his gorgeous mouth. You shift in his lap, legs spreading either side of his own and he helps you, his free hand skimming over the curves of your body as he's kissing you deep again. Small sounds begin to float in the air between you, soft encouraging ones from him, and contented moans from you. You slide your hands up and down his chest, and he chuckles at the minute rocking movements you're making with your hips.

"Yeah, there we go…" he rumbles against your ear with a grin before he tugs your lobe then caresses that sweet spot below it with his lips.

"Frank…"

His big hands wander all over your body, kneading at the fullness of your ass, sliding up to your waist, and massaging your tits through your pretty summer dress. He manhandles you to turn around, your back against his chest. Confusion crosses your face but he kisses it away and everything's forgotten as he lifts up the hem of your dress and starts rubbing his thick fingers up and down your pussy through the soft cotton of your panties. All the while he keeps kissing the column of your neck, occasionally gently holding your jaw in his fingers to turn your head so he can plunge his tongue into your wanting mouth.

He hums with satisfaction as you grind back on his crotch, keeps on stroking you until you're whining, almost soaking completely through your underwear with how pent up and horny he's got you now.

"Shhhh, s'alright. I got all night to make you feel good ain't I, baby?"

You automatically nod, lax in his arms as he lazily circles your throbbing clit through the fabric.

"Mnh, Frank, please-"

His scruff rubs against your face as he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck while he squeezes your breast, pinching and rubbing at your peaked nipple making you squeak in need and frustration.

"I know, I know. You good now, feelin' better?" he asks, as if it's not obvious that your shitty mood has all but dissipated into dust. You shake your head as you lean back against his shoulder, thighs spreading wider in anticipation of him giving you what you need.

"Aw you need more sweets? Yeah…" he pulls the damp crotch of your panties to the side and you're writhing as he runs a thick finger between your glistening pussy lips. He adds another, gathering and spreading your arousal over your core. He taps at the little swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs and gives your pussy a slap causing you to buck your hips up with a yelp.

"Good girl," he drawls as the slick pads of his fingers drum over your clit and you moan.

When he finally stops teasing and slides his middle two fingers inside, you call out his name in a pathetic needy little whine.

"Frankie!"

"Mmhm." He responds as he slowly fucks you with them, massaging the very depths of you as he curls them. He keeps playing with your tits as he plays with your cunt, and you're so fucking turned on and wet you're dripping over his hand as he amps up the pace. You can't shut up, mewls and moans echoing around the apartment along with the sloppy wet noises from Frank thrusting his fingers in and out of you so hard and fast you think you could come from just that.

"Yeah, that's it baby, my dirty fuckin' princess." He growls next to your ear as he feels your inner walls gripping around him. "Attagirl. You let go f'me, just let go pretty girl, let me hear you, lemme hear my pretty girl come."

Your legs are shaking, pushing up off of him, up off the couch but he's got you, he's always got you. Embarrassingly loud squelching sounds only add to the mess you're making as you're leaking all over the crotch of his jeans. He's fucking you so fast and filthy, bringing his other hand down to rub your engorged clit and it feels so fucking good. You're so close to coming, you can feel the giant, impending monster wave of it rising higher and higher until finally, it reaches its peak…

Your orgasm floods through you, your hips jerking hard as Frank keeps on pushing his fingers in and out as you're pulsing around them, gradually slowing down as he follows your body's movements. You gasp and curse some more, your ribcage expanding and contracting like you've just run a marathon.

"Uhhhh, ohgodohgodohfuck- Fraaank! I'm gonna- I'm gonna-!"

When the last aftershocks fade you finally still, and Frank slowly, carefully withdraws, sucking the sodden digits into his mouth and licking them clean.

"Okay. You can go do your stuff now."

You lay limp on him, completely, utterly, and literally fucked out. it takes you a couple of minutes to get your brain back in gear.

"I- I don't remember what I was gonna do…"

Frank just smiles and kisses the side of your face. "Probably nothin' important then."

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as you continue to catch your breath, your entire body still vibrating with bliss.

"Yeah, probably nothing."

😉

[swankyorange]

yeah I see it

i love you, janet snakehole 🩷

[realfernmayo]

ALL TOGETHER.

I'm not crying, it's raining on my face.

This is TOO SWEET, I LOVE IT SO MUCH

[[and then I met you || ch. 3]]

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

Summary:

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

pt: 1 | 2 |

words: 9.1k

You change aspects of your outfit about seven times before you finally settle on something you deem acceptable.

You know the meeting isn't about you, but you can't help but want to dress nicely. But not too nicely that this will no longer be a casual lunch. You choose one of your nicer t-shirts with your nice jeans and try to be fancy by doing a French tuck, but kind of ruin the vibe by pairing it all with your walking sneakers. Minnie picked them out and they are obnoxiously neon orange, but they are incredibly comfortable and supportive. It's warm out, so you do something with your hair that is simple and won't get in the way. 

You even dabble in some make-up. Nothing fancy but enough that you no longer look a little too tired. 

Minnie, of course, is perceptive to your nerves and also wants to Dress Up. This, of course, means her Princess dress and you want her in a good mood, so you turn your daughter into a giant pink and yellow cupcake. She is absolutely thrilled to be able to wear it out so getting all packed up and ready to go goes smoothly.  You debate telling her that you are going to meet someone but ultimately decide against it. She's already picked up on how nervous you are. If you tell her she will be meeting a new person, she might start getting upset and you aren't going to chance ruining her mood. So you bundle her into her stroller and start towards the diner at a quarter 'til eleven.

You want to get there early and get all settled before Matt arrives - maybe get a few doodles in on the sketchbook you've packed so Minnie is nice and distracted. It is a pretty day out and you take your time as you walk, not wanting to get all sweaty after dressing up. 

It is a route you've taken many times before, so you let your mind wander as you stroll. 

You had needed a full day to process that you had found Minnie's father and he wanted to be in both of your lives. It recontextualized so much. You had spent your entire evening reading 'how to co-parent' articles and making lists - you now had about three pages filled with your daughter's likes and dislikes, contact information for anyone Matt might need to reach out to, and multiple different schedules. Your plan is to make him a huge binder, filled with whatever he might need to know. 

You don't know if you are going overboard or not but this is how you are dealing with everything. 

You don't exactly have anyone you can reach out to to talk with. You aren't close enough with anyone who you would feel comfortable opening up to about Matt. You know you should probably find a therapist but there is no way you can afford one.

To be fair, you aren't even sure how you feel about everything. You put your emotions aside to deal with all the practical changes and to focus on your daughter's well-being. Despite all your anxieties, everything has been going as well as you think it should go. You've only had two conversations, but you are hoping the trend continues. You desperately want Minnie to smothered with people who adore her because you never had that and you pray Matt wants the same. 

As you cross into Hell's Kitchen, your heart starts beating a little harder in your chest. You can't fight your nerves, so you try to channel them into something productive. 

"Do you know where we're going, Mouse?" You ask as you wait at a corner.

"Chicky waffles!" is the excited response, making you chuckle.

"Exactly, we're gonna go have some chicky waffles," you say with a little smile. Chicken and waffles is a featured menu item at the diner and for some reason considered your daughter's Celebration Meal. "And if you aren't too sleepy afterwards, we can do something fun."

Minnie gives an excited wiggle in her stroller, "I wanna see the duckies!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, we can go see the duckies after lunch." You are hoping the promise of something she wants to do will come with the desire to behave, even if she starts to get fussy. You know you can't stop a tantrum if meeting Matt does truly upset her, but you can try your best to deter them. 

You are being overly precautious. You know you are, but you couldn't turn your mind off if you tried. 

You've long accepted your fate and just try to navigate your anxiety the best you can.

As Minnie lists off what she's named all the ducks, you debate coming up with some talking points for her and Matt. You doubt they have similar interests, though you know that doesn't mean much - as you don't have similar interests as your daughter - but animals and food are easy discussions. You worry when it comes to art, things may get a little harder.

You have no idea how to explain blindness to Minnie. You are really hoping that Matt has that experience and can help her understand. After all, you don't actually know how much he can see. You know he needs Braille - his flirting at the holiday party all those years ago had been to ask you to read the drink menu to him - and uses a cane, but that doesn't mean he can't see shapes and such. You definitely do not want to speak for him about his abilities.

Maybe afterwards you can look up some videos to help Minnie understand better. There's a plethora of resources online, you just need to know what to look for - a jumping off point. Blind parents with Seeing children are not a new thing and you bet you can find a bunch of tactile art projects beyond folding paper that would suit Minnie's age. 

The diner comes into view and you sigh in relief over the lack of a crowd. Maybe the Fates had smiled on you and everyone else would find somewhere else to have lunch. There is no one standing around outside, so you use the space to take Minnie out of her stroller. Instantly she tries to help you unpack, dragging her backpack out of the little storage area under the seat. You grab your purse and a collapsible booster seat, then start to fold up the stroller while she patiently waits.

She's still too small to pull open the heavy glass door of the diner, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She tugs on it twice before you are able to help her. She beams up at you and you return your little girl's smile as you enter the diner.

"Oh, well don't you look special," the waitress, Linda, says as she comes around the counter with some menus. You are convinced she must live above the diner because she is always there - but it also means Minnie is comfortable with her, so your daughter does a little twirl to show off her dress.

"We're gonna see the ducks!" 

"I see," Linda coos, "Well in that case, you're going to need a nice lunch to fill you up. Lemme see now, it looks like your booth is all open, so why don't we get you all settled in?"

Minnie takes off across the diner to the booth while you lean the stroller in the corner where you've been told you can store it. Once that is done, you head over to the booth. 

Linda places a menu where you will be sitting and as you slide into the seat next to Minnie, you ask for an additional menu in Braille. She looks a little surprised at the request, but doesn't question it and the menu is quickly placed across from you.

Minnie doesn't pay attention to the second menu at all, focused on pulling out her crayons and paper. She knows as long as she doesn't make a mess she's allowed to play on the table here and she doesn't waste any time getting right to it. 

"What do you want to drink, sweet pea?" Linda asks. 

"Lemonade, please, thank you!" Minnie answers like a little princess. Linda smiles at the response and asks the same to you, without the term of endearment. 

"An iced tea, please," you reply. You wait until she turns to go back behind the counter to pop open the booster seat. You set it on the seat beside Minnie and she carefully climbs into it before going back to laying out her crayons. 

"Do you want chicky waffles?" You ask Minnie. She shakes her head, ignoring you in favor of starting to scribble. You wait a few moments, giving her a chance to think and reply but that doesn't happen. You say her name, then repeat the question.

"No, I want grilled cheese," she says, looking up, "with fruit. Please. Thank you."

"With fruit?" You confirm, a little amused at the declaration. She nods and goes back to her work. 

You refuse to check the time. You know as soon as you do you'll spiral into an anxiety attack, so instead, you drag the menu over to you and start reading it over. You don't really know what you want - your stomach is more nerves than hunger. 

Linda drops off your drinks with a little smile, "I'll be back for your orders."

"Thank you," both you and Minnie say. 

You fall into a silence, half looking over the menu and half watching Minnie drag her crayon over the page. She's got the yellow one in her little fist and you wonder what could be going on in that head of hers. You hope her thoughts are good ones - all about ducks and cupcakes and magical things and no worries exist.

The bell above the door to the diner chimes after about two minutes and you look up as Matt walks in. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds hard. 

There is no argument about whether or not Matt is physically attractive - he's gorgeous and could easily be a model if he wanted to be - but you can tell that Effort was put in that morning. 

His scruff is trimmed down to a neat five o'clock shadow and his hair is a little fluffy like he's run his hand through it a few times. He's sporting a leather jacket, black tee shirt, slacks, and wing tips - he looks casual but cool. He's so incredibly handsome and for a moment you question if you're right about him being Minnie's father.

There is no way this man took you to bed. You think you're pass-ibly attractive, but he's on a whole other level of hot. 

You are so busy ogling him it doesn't register right away you need to alert him to your whereabouts. Linda makes a bee line right for him, exchanging words you can't hear. She turns to look at you, one brow raising up in question. In response, you raise your hand in acknowledgement. She nods then leads Matt over to your booth. You finally notice he is holding a pink medium sized gift bag and you can't help but wonder what is inside.

He stops at the edge of the table, brushing his fingers over it to find the boundaries. You speak first, to let him know where you are.

"Hi." 

It comes out far shyer than you mean and Linda gives a pointed 'are you serious' face.

It doesn't matter because he replies just as shyly, "Hi." 

"Um, the seat to your right is empty, with a menu in the middle of the table," you direct. Minnie looks up at him and you watch her watch him fold his cane and slip into the seat. You can tell she is curious, but cautious. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The elderly waitress asks and Matt asks for coffee. She then turns to go fetch that, leaving your new little family to finally meet each other.

You clear your throat and start the introductions, "Minnie, this is Matt. He is going to be our new friend. Can you say hi?"

She's quiet for a few seconds before mumbling out, "Hello."

Matt completely lights up at the greeting. His smile gets so big and boyishly happy you have to bite your lip so you don't break out into your own smile. 

"Hi, Minnie. It's…it's so nice to meet you." 

Your daughter presses the fist clutching the crayon to her mouth as she looks Matt over. Her little eyes dart all over his features before she turns her head to look up at you. Her brow scrunches up in a way you know means she wants to ask something, so you gently prompt her.

"Do you want to ask something, Mouse?"

She gives a barely there nod. 

"Okay. You can take your time. Is that okay, Matt?" You say, gently redirecting the conversation back to him.

"Take your time," Matt tells her, his voice so soft and sweet. Encouraging.

She squirms in her seat and you quickly offer up your hand so she can hold onto it. She grabs your hand with her non-dominant one and squeezes tightly, needing the anchor to know everything will be okay - only then does she talk, her mouth hidden behind fist and crayon. 

"You're Mommy's friend?" 

Matt nods, smile still on his face, "I am. Or I hope to be. I'd like to be your friend, too."

Minnie rocks side to side in her booster seat, still looking over Matt like she's trying to parse out his motive. Despite not being able to see her contemplating, Matt waits patiently until the next question comes.

"Is it…your Birthday?" She asks after about ten seconds.

Matt shakes his head, his smile going from bright to a little softer, "No, it's not. This," he picks up the gift bag and places it in front of Minnie on the table, "is for you."

Her head automatically turns to look up at you with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission. You gently squeeze her hand, "You can open it."

She pulls away from you and reaches out to pull the bag closer. It's too tall on the table for her to see into, so she very very gently, like she's scared it will break, tips it over onto its side. The packing tissue matches the bag and your little one gets distracted by that for a moment. She scrunches paper so it crinkles and folds before pulling it out and handing it off to you to hold. You assume that means she wants to keep it, as she knows wrapping paper gets thrown out. To your surprise, the tissue is thicker than what you are used to - it won't rip to shreds if you look at it too hard. That must be why she wants it - it's something to play with later.

A delighted shriek rips through the diner making you and Matt and everyone else in vicinity visibly wince.

"It's Scooby!" Minnie absolutely screams, revealing what is in the bag. It is indeed a Scooby Doo plushie - one of the good quality ones that looks extremely soft to the touch. He's seated and you can tell he has weighted paws to keep him upright and he looks more like a puppy Scooby than the one from the old show, but you know that doesn't matter. 

Mouse loves him. 

She practically shoves the plush in your face to show you. "Mommy, it's Scooby!"

Her excitement makes you laugh and rub at her back, "I see. Do you like him?" She nods before smashing the plush into her chest and hugging it tightly. You smile more, "What do you say to Matt?"

Matt has the biggest smile on his face and that, plus the gift, seems to soothe Minnie's anxiety. She looks right at him, matching his smile with her own beaming one, "Thank you, Mister Matt!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart." 

You can hear the emotion in Matt's voice and it touches your heart. He looks just so happy. You get the feeling he would have been crushed if she hadn't liked the toy.

Minnie holds Scooby up and out to Matt and wiggles him back and forth, "Do you like Scooby? I love Scooby. He's my favorite - he solves mysteries! With Shaggy!"

"I haven't watched cartoons in a long time, but I remember Scooby Doo. I liked the girl with the glasses," Matt replies gently. You give a pleased hum at his response.

"Velma! That's Mommy's favorite!" Minnie exclaims, hugging her new toy again. She's so excited and wiggling with delight. You can't fight your smile as you watch her - and how could you? Matt's own smile is infectious. 

"Oh, is she?" He asks and your little girl gives another eager nod. 

"Uh-huh. 'Cause she's not scared of the monsters!"

That earns a little chuckle from both you and Matt, and he asks, "Are the monsters scary?"

"Yeah! But - but they are really just People," she screws up her face and emphasizes the word, pausing before starting again, "so they aren't Really scary." 

"Ah, I see. Velma must be pretty brave to not be scared of the monsters."

"Mommy's braver," Mouse says proudly, puffing up her chest. She puts emphasis between each word,  "Mommy's not scared of anything." 

Your cheeks burn at her declaration. 

"Is that so?" Matt asks, tilting his head a little towards you, his smile turning amused. You can tell he knows it's not true, but he won't break her illusion.

"I try to be," you say, rubbing Minnie's back again,  trying to get her to calm down just a little bit. She's too happy over the new play thing to be nervous. Matt's done good - she's going to want to talk about cartoons - at least until food comes. 

Linda has been eyeing your table and finally breaks away from the counter to come over to you, dropping off Matt's coffee then taking out her order pad. 

"Can I get y'all started on some food?"

Minnie's attention is ripped away from Scooby and she looks up at the waitress. She squirms in her seat to sit up even taller and proclaims, "I want grilled cheese. With fruit. Please. Thank you."  

She's ordered her own food from Linda before, though usually with not such confidence. You think this is part of her push to be a Big Girl. She's gotten to the age where she's started telling you she's not a baby anymore, even if you disagree, and you wonder if she's trying to impress Matt by showing that. You think it's absolutely adorable. 

You can tell Linda does, too.

"One grilled cheese with fruit for the cupcake. How about Mom?"

You consider your options and decide quickly what you want, "Let's go with a grilled cheese with french fries."

Linda jots down the order and turns her attention to Matt, "and the sir?"

"I think I'll have to round it out and get a grilled cheese with fries."

Linda laughs to herself like she's very much enjoying the free reality show she is getting. "Three grilled cheese, two fry, and one fruit coming right up. Think about what y'all want for dessert." 

You duck your head in embarrassment, knowing you are turning pink at the tease. You know she knows Matt is Minnie's father. She looks just like him and sitting there smiling together, there is no denying it. You don't need a DNA test. 

One hundred percent, Matt Murdock fathered your precious little angel.

And Linda seems to think this is the Best Thing in the World. She is absolutely thrilled and you know she's going to gossip with the cooks. 

Matt's got a blush to his cheeks as well, licking his lips shyly.

That makes you blush even more.

Minnie is totally unaware of the implications and declares she wants a sundae.

"Okay, then, I'll go get your order in so you can get that faster," Linda tells her before going to check on the next table. 

"Cupcake?" Matt questions once she steps away, raising his brow over his glasses as he does. His smile is turning into a smirk and you think he's over being shy now. At least towards you. 

"Minnie is supporting her Princess dress," you advise. You don't think his smile can get any bigger.

"A princess dress? Am I under dressed?"

You gently nudge your daughter, "Can you tell Matt about your dress?"

Minnie hugs Scooby to her chest before happily launching into a description of her dress, "It's pink! And yellow! And puffy! It has sparkles! And I can run in it."

"You can run in it?" He clarifies. The answer is a vigorous nod, so you jump in to help.

"The bottom is kind of like a tutu - lots of tulle. It only goes to her calves, so it won't drag on the ground. She looks like an upside down cupcake." You don't know if that helps at all, but he doesn't push for more information. 

"It sounds like a really good Princess dress. Does that make you the Queen?" He teases. It gets a giggle from your daughter, which only makes you blush more. He directs his next inquiry to Minnie, once she's done laughing at you.

"Can you tell me what your Mommy is wearing?"

Your little one doesn't question why Matt needs things described to him and jumps right in, always so eager to please, "Mommy's wearing her fancy pants and a pretty top and she's got pretty hair. She looks pretty." Matt makes a pleased little noise over her description, encouraging her to continue on.

You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands. Your pants aren't fancy - she just rarely sees you outside leggings and sweatpants. You are going to have to take her to nicer places so she doesn't think jeans are formal wear. And pretty? Well, Mouse thinks everything is pretty.

"Do you think Mommy's pretty?" Minnie boldly asks instead of describing you more and you feel like you are going to die. You'd much rather prefer if she was being shy right now.

"I do," he says gently and of course it makes your blush even harder. This meeting should be about him meeting Minnie, but it is apparently about them ganging up on you to explode your heart out of your chest. "My eyes got hurt when I was a kid, so I can't see through them anymore. I see things through hearing and touching. I think you're Mommy has a very pretty voice. I like how she says different words. I can't see you're Mommy rubbing your back, but if I listen I can hear it. I can't see that your Mommy is wearing a pretty shirt, but now that you told me, I know. I use my hands to find out what shapes things are and where things are around me." He demonstrates by gently, and exaggeratedly, patting the table until he finds the menu. Mouse watches in fascination as he pushes it to be between them. 

"I can't read like your Mommy can anymore with my eyes, so instead I use my fingers. Each set of bumps is a letter. It's called Braille and it's the English alphabet for people who use their fingers to read instead of their eyes."

You watch as your daughter listens to the explanation. She scrunches up her face as she processes the information, before looking down at her hands. She flexes her fingers a few times before looking back up at Matt. 

"You got hurt?" She asks. Matt nods and gives an affirmative, pulling the menu back towards him. Part of you wonders if he's explained being Blind to a child before - his words and the concepts are simple enough for your little one to grasp. You're glad you left this to him.

"Something bad got in my eyes and made them not work anymore." You know this is something your daughter understands - she's gotten things in her eyes before that made it hard for her to see. You can see the dots connecting in Mouse's mind - she rubs a little fist into her left eye like it's irritated.

"Do you need a band-aid?" Minnie asks before dropping her arm with a little gasp, "or a kissy? Mommy gives me a kissy when I get hurt." Her concern is adorable and before Matt can answer her, she's jutting her new toy out towards him again, "Scooby can give you a kissy."

You can't see Matt's eyes behind his red glasses, but you can totally tell Minnie has already got him completely wrapped around her little fingers. You don't know if it's instinct to love her or he's just charmed by her sweetness. 

"Thank you, sweetheart. I don't need one right now, it happened a long time ago. They've healed, they just don't work anymore. But if you could help tell me what things look like, I would very much appreciate that." His words are gentle and your daughter absolutely lights up over being asked to help. She loves to help.

"I can do that! I know what lots of things are!" She's practically bouncing in her seat, and deciding this is something you need to practice as well, tell Matt as such. 

He tilts his head towards you, and it might be a trick of your mind, but for a moment his smile looks a bit softer before his attention is pulled back to Minnie. She's holding up Scooby again - you think she's not going to let go of the toy for the rest of the day - and once both you and Matt are focused on her, she starts describing him the best she can. 

"He's brown and he's got a big head and he's a dog!" She turns the toy so it's back is facing Matt before telling him Scooby has black spots, "But not like Pongo. Only a little bit of spots. Pongo has.. Pongo has ten spots." She nods with authority over her assessment and you smile down at her, pride warming your heart. 

"Thank you for telling me what he looks like," Matt says gently, making your little one just beam back at him. "You're very good at it."

You lean on your fist and watch her giggle and hide her face against Scooby. You don't want her to get too embarrassed and not want to talk, so you guide the conversation to something easy for her. 

"Do you want to tell Matt about what we're going to do after lunch?" You ask, knowing it's a topic that excites her and she won't be shy, but it's also something he can relate to. 

Across the table from you, Matt leans forward a little, clearly giving all his attention to Minnie, "Are you going to do something fun after lunch?"

The question gets her to look up from trying to hide away and she nods. She pushes her drawing, which has been ignored since Matt arrived, across the table towards him. You think she doesn't fully understand the concept that Matt cannot see yet, but she'll figure it out. 

"She's sliding you her drawing," you say to try and help. You don't know if he needs more description than that - you can't remember how assistive you were during your night together. You're hoping it's another conversation you can have so you can adapt better to his life. 

Matt feels around the table in front of him until he finds the notepad and he pulls it towards him. Minnie presses her face back into her plushie as she watches him run his fingers around the paper. You are all silent as he locates one of the circles Minnie has scribbled and begins to trace it. His lips begin to twitch at the corners and you wonder what he is thinking - what he is feeling.  You hope this isn't a cruel thing - Minnie trying to show him her art. 

You can tell he can feel the indentation of the crayon being pushed into the paper and you hope it is enough. You are definitely going to look into tactile art when you get home. You don't want to risk being this cruel and embarrassing again. 

"We're gonna see the duckies," Minnie says after a beat and much to your surprise, she pushes herself up so she can reach across the table and places her finger on a circle Matt's not touching. "That's Quack." 

Matt moves his finger to brush against hers, grounding where he is then begins to trace that circle, "This one is Quack?"

"Yeah! He's yellow. And this one," she pushes her finger to the third scribble, which is more square than circle, "is Moose. He's mean." 

"He's mean?" Matt asks as he follows her finger with his own. The drawing is not very big, so he easily finds her finger again, bumping up against hers. All the yellow circles and shapes look the same to you but you know that isn't the case to your daughter and listening to her explain to Matt makes you want to pull out your camera and record the breathtaking smile he has right now.

You're sure there's plenty of time for that later. You're not going to break the moment getting out your phone.

"He bites," Minnie says wisely, like it's a warning. Matt takes it as such and nods in understanding as he follows her finger around the drawing.

"That is mean. You shouldn't bite people," Matt replies, taking in the shape of Moose. "What color is he?"

"He's yellow too," she answers, "but he's only got one feets. That's why he's mean." She carefully moves herself back so she can plop down in her seat. "Mommy says…Mommy says he can't runs away so he bites."

You turn your head a little so you can smile into your hand. Hearing her repeat something you have previously told her always makes your heart melt - she's learning and retaining and growing up. Soon, she won't be your little baby girl. 

"That's right, sweetie," you praise. "He can't run away like the other ducks, so to tell people to stay away, he bites. How do you keep from being bitten?"

Minnie screws up her face in thought and you glance at Matt to gauge his reaction. He still has his hand on the drawings, though he's stopped tracing them since she sat down, and he looks so enraptured by your daughter - his daughter. 

As if he senses you looking at him, he sends a soft smile your way. You return it, not caring that he can't see it. This happy little moment is perfect in your eyes.

"You can only pet the duckies at the zoo," Minnie says after a few moments of thinking. She looks up to you to make sure that is the correct answer and you nod, smiling down at her.

"Exactly, we can only pet the ducks at the zoo. Those ducks like to be pet. The ducks in the park don't want to be pet, so we don't touch them," you gently reinforce. 

"That is a good way to keep everyone happy," Matt agrees, moving his hand away from the notepad so he can take a drink of his coffee. 

Minnie quickly moves to mimic him and you watch as she carefully brings her glass of lemonade closer. Linda already provided a straw, so you don't need to worry about her trying to pick up the glass so you'll let her do this herself unless she asks for help. She has to sit up straight, but Mouse is able to wrap her lips around the straw and take a few sips.

Then of course, as soon as she's done she holds Scooby up to the straw and pushes his muzzle against it a little too hard. Your hand flies out to stabilize the glass before it can wobble too much. You don't chastise her, as she did nothing wrong, and simply hold the lemonade while she plays.

"Slurp slurp slurp," Minnie whispers to herself before 'walking' the toy back into her lap. 

"Do you like watching the ducks?" Matt asks once she's done, bringing her focus back, and instead of nodding, your little one makes Scooby nod for her before she turns him over and starts messing with his weighted paws.

"They're funny. They have lots of fights. And put their butts up in the water." You try to not huff at her description, as she is not exactly wrong. Part of you wants to jump in and explain what she means, but you want her to bond with Matt. You don't want her to rely on you as a go-between for explaining things to one another. They need to learn each other's language. 

"They put their butts up?" Matt asks bewildered and you don't know if it's genuine or played up for Minnie. 

Either way, your little girl giggles, "When they go down in the water. They go butt up!" She looks up at Matt then turns her plush over so his tail is pointed towards the ceiling, "like this!"

You do decide to intervene at this point, tapping on Minnie's shoulder so she looks up to you, "Matt can't see with his eyes, remember? You need to tell him what it looks like or let him feel."

You can see the little wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally puts the pieces together. She looks back to him then plonks Scooby face down, ass up on her notepad. 

"Like this," she repeats before patting the sides of the plushie. She then leans back in her seat and smiles at Matt, proud of herself. You bite your lip, waiting to see what Matt does. 

He doesn't push for or request more description, instead quickly finding the edge of the notepad, then feeling over Scooby. You're pretty sure he's putting on a show of patting over the toy by the way it's making Minnie giggle. 

"Do you know why they put their butts up?" He asks and you wonder how much longer you will be talking of duck butts. It's cute, but you are also in public. Matt seems to not care at all so you push aside any embarrassment creeping at the edge of your psyche. 

They both absolutely deserve this.

Your little one shakes her head with a 'not-uh' at Matt's question. You've told her why before, but you are sure she's forgotten - it is not useful information to her three year old brain. 

"It's so they can get food underwater," he says as he flips Scooby over so he's sitting properly again. "They float on the water, but their food is underneath them." He bounces Scooby lightly, like he's floating in water. As she watches and listens, Mouse sticks her little hands into her mouth. "They have to dive down to get it, because they don't have hands to pick it up," he demonstrates by tipping the stuffed dog forward, so he's once again face down ass up. "So they end up sticking their butts out of the water. They look for food like this."

As he finishes his explanation, he pushes Scooby towards Minnie, pretending to make him snuffle and sniff for her, including making the sound himself. She hides her face behind her hands, giggling loudly, "There's no food here!"

"Oh no, there's not?" Matt asks in an overly dejected voice, tilting Scooby back up so he's sitting. He lets go of the plush and to keep up the fun atmosphere, you quickly pick it up instead.

You bounce the toy towards your daughter, teasing lightly, "is he going to have to gobble you up instead?"

"No!" She mock wails, lightly kicking her feet and still hiding her face, "I'm not food!"

"Are you sure?" Matt asks, leaning forward a little bit. "You look like food to me."

"Nom nom nom," you say in a deep voice, having Scooby's muzzle bump into her arm repeatedly. His pun doesn't dawn on you until Mouse starts squirming around and giggling.

"Noooo!"

"Well, looks like I'm here right in time," Linda declares as she very suddenly appears at the end of the table holding a tray with your orders. You flush in embarrassment, instinctively moving to sit up straight and behave and pulling Scooby into your lap. You feel like a misbehaving kid who got caught playing in class.

Matt has the most shit eating grin on his face, like he doesn't care who saw him playing with Minnie. He probably doesn't - this is his first time meeting her and it's going so well. 

Your meals are placed in front of you, with Linda narrating to Matt where his plate is and where the food is on the plate when she sets it in front of him as she collects the menus.

"Thank you, Linda," Matt says from across the booth, managing to look and sound boyishly charming.

Again, almost instantly, Minnie copies him, giving her biggest and brightest, "Thank you, Miss Linda!" 

"Thank you, Linda," you echo with your own little smile because you don't want to be rude and because you know she'll fucking love it. 

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever seen," she coos at you and you have to bite your lip so you don't laugh. You just know she is going to corner you at some point and demand answers. But that is for later, right now you are in your own bubble.

Beside you, Minnie helpfully pipes up, "Mister Matt can't see, you have to tell him what you see. Or let him feel." 

You close your eyes tightly so you don't cringe or laugh. Your little Mouse is trying her best to do what she has been taught and you can't fault her at all. Linda gives a surprised yet amused laugh while Matt addresses your daughter. You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Minnie, that's right. She's talking about us and I know that, so she doesn't need to explain. I appreciate your help in telling her, though." You look over to your daughter to gauge her reaction and she is still all smiles and Love.

"You're welcome!" She brightly replies then turns her attention to you and the toy in your lap, "Mommy, can I have Scooby?"

Linda gently taps the edge of the table with her knuckles as she steps away from the table, "Y'all enjoy your food and let me know if y'all need anything else." Her grin is enormous, and you'll have to give a nice tip for not completely embarrassing you.

You thank her again and once she's left, you pass Scooby back to Minnie, with a gentle reminder, "Put him to the side, so he won't get dirty." She nods in understanding, taking him and plopping him on the other side of her booster seat. Then she leans on the table and stretches her little arms until she can grab the napkin holder on the other end of the booth. Before you realize what she's doing, she yanks a handful of napkins free and falls back into her seat with an "oof".

"Are you alright?" Matt quickly asks, reaching his hand out over the table towards her like he can actually catch her from there if she falls. 

His instinct to protect her makes your heart sing as you answer, "she's okay. Mouse, if you can't reach, you can ask for help." You still pat over her to make sure she's completely okay and it causes her to squirm in her seat.

"I can reach," is her slightly pouty reply. You don't want to get her cranky when she's been doing so well, so you let this pass and pull your hands away.

"Okay, sweetheart, just be careful, okay?" 

Instead of answering, she ignores you and slowly she starts to unfold the napkins one by one. You have no idea what she is doing so you just watch. For a moment - then you remember Matt has no idea what is going on and you try your hand at narrating, "She grabbed napkins and now she is unfolding them."

"Why are you doing that, sweetheart?" He asks your daughter, brow knitting up and mouth turning into a frown. 

She looks up at him as she pulls open another napkin and lays it flat on the table, saying like it's the most obvious thing, "Scooby doesn't have a lap."

"Scooby…doesn't have a lap?" Matt clarifies, clearly confused. You are as well until Minnie turns and starts draping the napkins over the plushie, covering him with them like a patchwork ghost. 

Then you get it. "He doesn't have a lap to hold his napkin." 

Realization dawns on Matt's face and he huffs in delight, "Of course." He makes a big show of taking the napkin around the silverware of his place set and putting it in his lap, even though your little one barely looks up at him. "We don't want to get dirty while eating."

"No crumbs," you agree, taking your napkin and putting it into your lap. You are constantly amazed by what your little girl retains - usually you have to put the napkin on her lap or remind her. Big Girl table manners is something you've only just started working on and pride swells in your chest at her actions. Even if she's just trying to impress Matt you are thrilled your lessons are working.

Once Scooby is hidden under napkins, Minnie puts one still folded napkin into her own lap. She pats it carefully so it's flat. As she does that, you check her plate to make sure everything is ready for her. Her kid's grilled cheese is already cut into four triangles, so you don't need to make anything smaller for her, and the fruit cup doesn't require any help. She's big enough to be able to stab the cut fruit with a fork and eat it on her own. You don't need to fuss with anything on her plate, so you start picking at your french fries. Matt has the same idea as you, going for his side instead of the main, but your daughter picks up the closest quarter of her sandwich and starts to nibble at it, like the Mouse she is.

A comfortable silence falls over your booth as you all start to eat. 

You're still a little hesitant to trust everything is really going so well. You've conditioned yourself to believe that eventually everything will always fall apart - you just need to give it time. People leave and things go wrong, and you're left hurt and alone to pick up the pieces. You pray and hope and wish this curse the universe has put on you doesn't get passed down to your daughter. As long as you are breathing you won't leave her - and maybe if you believe hard enough Matt has come into Minnie's life and you are only there by extension, things won't come crashing down around her. 

You'll fight tooth and nail for her well-being if it comes down to it, but it's something you don't want to have to do. She deserves a good, easy life.

Matt breaks you from your depressing thoughts, tilting his head and that handsome sweet smile towards Minnie, "How is your grilled cheese, Minnie?"

She looks up at him from behind her food, eyes going wide at being addressed, like she forgot Matt was even there. She sets down her half-eaten slice before answering, in a shy little mumble, "...it's yummy." 

"Yeah?"

You duck your head with a fond smile. After the brief excitement of playing, of course she reverts back to being shy. You can sense she wants to start squirming and hiding at the direct attention, so you try to redirect the energy. It's amazing how bold you can be when trying to comfort your daughter. You can let yourself be uncomfortable until the cows come home, but you don't want her to experience that.

"Matt, can you tell Minnie a little about yourself?" You ask, maybe a little bit louder than you intended to.

He tilts his head towards you just slightly, his lips parting slightly and brow furrowing like he doesn't quite get why you asked that now. But he doesn't question you, instead leaning back into his seat to think over the question. 

You want Minnie to know more about Matt to get more comfortable with him but you are also curious. Hearing what someone says about themselves is more telling than reading about them in online news articles.

"Let's see, I first met your Mommy a few years ago at a party. That's how we became friends.  My other friends and I run a law firm where we help people when they get in trouble," He pokes at his fries while he talks and that seems to help Minnie relax more. She picks up her grilled cheese triangle and resumes eating while she listens. "I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen and want to help all my neighbors the best I can, because they are good people who don't have a lot of people to help them. I am able to help them, so my friends and I do the best we can to help them if they need it. I want to live in a happy place where people help each other." 

You have no idea if he has experience talking to three year olds, but you think he'll have no problems with Minnie. Even if she doesn't understand exactly what he's saying, she watches him with interested eyes and you can tell she's taking in the information the best she can. Even if she's getting shy again, it's obvious Matt doesn't scare her. 

"You help people?" your little one asks as Matt eats another fry. "Like a police man?"

He shakes his head, "No, after the police man comes. Like, if a police man thinks someone did something bad, but they didn't. They need someone to come tell the policeman they are innocent. That means they didn't do the bad thing." 

Mouse pauses her chewing, sandwich still partly in her mouth. You haven't really discussed the topic of police with her - she's just three after all, but you know from the shows she watches the police are viewed in a good light. Personally, you've seen the bad side and know very well Matt helped clearing out the corrupt cops in Hell's Kitchen, but the concept the police might get something wrong seems to be a big one for her. Her little nose and brow scrunch up as things roll around in her head. 

Matt seems to realize she's processing, as he continues to eat his fries and wait for the next question. 

Finally, she puts her sandwich back down and looks up at Matt with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Are you Spidey-man?"

You try very hard to not laugh at the series of emotions that fly across Matt's face. First, he looks confused, then he makes this face like he smelled something bad, curling up his lips a little, before forcing it back into a smile with the help of a deep breath. 

"No, sweetheart, I'm not Spider-Man, I'm a lawyer." 

Minnie visibly deflates with a tiny 'oh', picking up a new sandwich triangle to start eating while looking like she's been told Christmas has been canceled. You suck on your bottom lip so you won't laugh. Across from you, Matt looks like he's angry at himself for not being Spider-Man and for disappointing Mouse over the fact - like how dare he not be the spunky superhero. 

You feel the need to intervene before the mood shifts into something negative.

You pick up one of your french fries and wave it a little at Minnie to get her attention, "Matt can't be Spider-Man, Mouse. He's too tall." That gets her to look up at him again and he offers her this tiny hopeful smile. You feel like he's silently begging her to not be upset at him over something he can't control. "Remember? The balloon lady said he was as tall as her and Matt's taller than that." 

You have no idea if she even registered how tall Matt is or if she can even mentally compare his height to the height of someone she's never seen in person, but you know pointing out how things are different in the past has worked.

She screws up her face at your words, carefully considering them, then finally nods and declares, "He's too tall to be Spidey-man." And just like that, everything is fine and she goes back to eating. 

You grin to yourself and pop your fry into your mouth. Matt sits there, like he needs his own moment to process what happened. You are used to toddler wild mood swings and how to deal with them - you speak fluent Minnie logic. It will take him time to learn and you are sure there will be plenty of chances for it. He will be a master of it in no time if his fancy law degree is any indication.

Matt clears his throat after a long pause before picking up half of his sandwich, "Is he your favorite superhero?"

You wonder if he is really ready for this conversation. Minnie is part of the first generation to grow up with Super Heroes being a Real thing and not from war stories and comic books. You've tried to keep her away from all the news stories about all the horrible world events that keep happening, but capitalism sure loves to sell the idea and you can't fight capitalism. You're half convinced the Avengers are funded by their merchandise sales alone. Spider-Man isn't a part of all that, as far as you know, but New York loves the guy and you can get bootleg Spider merch on most street corners. Which you have, because Mouse thinks he's Cool. 

"He saved a kitty," she says with lots of pride in her voice. "I saw on TV." 

You remember the news segment from a few weeks prior: someone had filmed Spider-Man rescuing a cat that had gotten stuck in some construction equipment. It was heartwarming.

"He saved a kitty?" He asks, pretending to be in awe. Minnie gives a vigorous nod before shoving more of her grilled cheese into her mouth.

"She's nodding," you narrate, finally moving to eat your sandwich. "It was a daring rescue. I had to save the video on my phone so we can rewatch it. It was on top of a crane."

"Do you like Spidey-man?" Mouse asks as soon as she swallows her food. You know he can't see you, but you still look at Matt with raised eyebrows, wanting to know his answer as well.  

"Well, based off what you said, he sounds like a good man. He wasn't around when I was growing up, so I'm partial to Captain America. I used to read his comics when I was little like you." It's a very diplomatic and lawyer-y answer and it makes you wonder if Matt even likes the topic. Hell's Kitchen did get the short end of the stick in the Battle of New York and the whole thing might be a touchy subject, especially considering his career. You know developers tried to take advantage of all the destruction and that must have caused a tonne of legal trouble. 

Not that Minnie knows any of that, so you try to divert the conversation with the first thought that comes to mind, "what about ducks, Mr. Murdock, are you a fan of ducks?" 

Your question throws him for a moment, but eventually he hums at the inquiry before nodding, "I do like ducks. Even ones who bite." He shoots you a little smile, something charming that makes your heart stutter. So instead of continuing to look at him, you turn to your daughter.

"Do you think we should invite Matt to visit the ducks?" You ask, wanting to make sure she is comfortable with the idea before properly asking Matt if he would like to come along. You have no idea if he has plans after this or not, but it is worth a shot.

Minnie looks from you to Matt and back again, pursing her lips in thought before lowering her voice into an unintentional stage whisper, "Mommy, he can't touch the duckies."

You try your best to not coo at her concern. You want to wrap her up in your arms and never let anything bad happen because how can your little angel be so thoughtful after only knowing him for half an hour?

"It's okay, sweetie," Matt softly says, and you turn your gaze to him. You swear you can feel the emotion coming off of him in waves - the desire to spend more time with his daughter, to learn more about her and bond. "You can help describe them to me, if you want. If you want me to come with you." 

The last part hits home - you are very familiar with that way of speech. The want and ache to be included but knowing you'll most likely be denied the opportunity. 

It feels like an infinity passes before she looks away from both of you and shyly admits, "I can help." She was so enthusiastic with her new toy and you do want to try to get that energy back. The park is one of the places she forgets to be a timid little mouse and you are hoping once she's not trapped in the booth, it will be easier for her to express herself.

"May I go with you to visit the ducks, Minnie?" He asks so proper and politely and it makes your stomach do funny things. You really do not understand how this wonderful man picked you of all people to sleep with.

Mouse squirms then pushes her wrist against her mouth, mumbling into it, "I wanna see the duckies. With Mister Matt. And Mommy."

You lean in and gently kiss the top of her head, rubbing at her back to silently tell her she did such a good job. "We'll all go see the duckies after we finish eating. All together."

Minnie peeks up at you, that shy sweet smile brightening to a look only reserved for Mommy, "We're gonna see the duckies. All together."

From the other side of the booth you hear Matt confirm in the softest voice, like you weren't meant to hear it.

 "All together."

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza 

[galactickle]

Plus One Chapter 1

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein x reader

Summary: You have been secretly dating Jean-Ralphio for a while… How will the parks department take it when you bring him to Leslie and Ben's wedding?

SMUT

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Masterlist

A/N: this is not canon compliant

The SnakeHole Lounge was nearly empty when Leslie dragged you and April in. It was only 10pm after all. She propped April near the front door and pulled you to the side to help blow up balloons. 

“Faster Y/N! We're behind schedule!” Leslie urged in between large gulps of air. 

“I can only breathe so fast,” you sighed, continuing the balloon. 

“I don't want to do this,” April complained from behind you. 

“Too bad! Y/N! Catch!” Leslie threw a streamer towards you.

When you and Leslie finished setting up, April pulled you next to her to help greet guests. Some people had already arrived, mostly regular patrons who had no idea who April was or that Leslie was throwing this party. You glanced at your phone screen, 11:00, people should start showing up now, you hoped. 

Your prayers came true as Andy strolled through the door, greeting April with a bow and a kiss to the back of her hand. “M’lady.”

April giggled, yes, giggled , in response. 

“Y/N,” Andy continues with a nod.

“Andy,” you greet him as he passes.

Tom is the next to arrive, dragging along his lanky dork of a friend Jean-Ralphio. 

“Happy Birthday April!” Tom exclaims. placing his gift on the table beside her. He moves in for a hug but April backs away from him. “Okay…” he holds up his hands, “Y/N, looking lovely as ever,” Tom flirts with you. 

You flip him off in response. He was used to it, same as you were used to his flirting. Both gestures meant nothing to the two of you anymore.

“You wanna come home with me?” you hear Jean-Ralphio whisper to April, you roll your eyes.

“Ew, no,” April replies, pushing him back. 

He looks at you, “Keep walking,” you say, pushing him past the two of you.

The rest of the guests come quickly after that, and you and April are set free to roam the party. You sit down at the bar and order a drink. You feel someone slide into the seat next to you. Turning, you put on a smile thinking it's Leslie or Ann maybe, but instead your smile instantly drops. 

“Hey sweetcheeks,” Jean-Ralphio leans an arm on the back of you chair, “How about I buy you a drink?” 

“Do you even have any money?” you scoff, Tom talks a lot, and Jean-Ralphio and his life is one of Tom's favorite subjects. Just then the bartender sets down your drink, you slide the money over to him and thank him, getting up to find somewhere else to enjoy your drink. 

“Oh c’mon… don't be like that,” Jean-Ralphio complained, his fluffy dark curls bouncing as he raced after you. 

The truth was, you didn't dislike Jean-Ralphio like the rest of the parks department did, I mean sure, you found him irresponsible and stupid and even a little selfish, but there was something about him…

“Y/N!” Your name snapped you out of your thoughts, looking up to see Donna in a VIP section, “Come in,” she gestured to the velvet rope that separated her and her crew from the rest of the party. You unhook the rope and step through, Jean-Ralphio quickly tried to follow you, but Donna was quicker, “Uh-uh, not you, Saperstien,” she stared him down, which he quickly looked away from, skittering off.

Later that night you found Jean-Ralphio with his arm around April, assuming this was against April's will, your pace quickened to get to them. Then you saw Andy on the other side of April, which made your head tilt in confusion. You approached cautiously, hoping to just eavesdrop for a moment but Jean-Ralphio’s eyes were quick to find you. “Hey sweetheart, sorry but I’m taken now,” he smiles cockily at you, you roll your eyes focusing on April, who is staring down Andy.

“Okay, well I’m out of here,” Andy stands to leave, wishing you good luck when he passes.

“What the hell April?” you rush to sit where Andy was just moments before.

“What? Are you jealous?” Jean-Ralphio questions.

“Fuck off,” you and April say to him at the same time. He seems taken aback by it but leaves nonetheless.

“What's going on?” you grab both of April's hands in yours, genuinely concerned.

“I don't know… I overheard Ann flirting with Andy and I wanted to get back at him.. I guess,” she confesses.

“April…” you start.

“I know, I know.”

“Jean-Ralphio? Really? You couldn't find a better option?” you joke. April laughs in response. You couldn't help but poke fun at everyone’s hatred for the guy.

~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~~°✷°~

You hadn't seen Jean-Ralphio since that night at the Snakehole, and unfortunately you were headed there again. Since Tom was launching his new alcohol Snakejuice. 

“Y/Nnnnn!” Leslie called from the dancefloor when she spotted you, stumbling over, dragging Ann behind her.

“Are you drunk already?” you asked, eyeing the two as they cling to each other.

“Noooo,” you gave them a knowing look, “Maybe,” Leslie sighed, “But you have to try Snakejuice, its soooo good.” She grabs your arm, pulling you to the bar and pouring you a glass.

You take the glass willingly and take a sip, it is surprisingly tasty, but strong. You nodded, taking a second sip. “It's good.”

“No, it’s amazingggg!”

“I’m glad you guys like it,” Tom walks up, his tall, dorky shadow following him.

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing you’ll like tonight,” Jean-Ralphio sidles up next to you.

“Ew,” you mumble, but you can’t control the heat that rises up your neck, was the alcohol already hitting you? “Tom, how much alcohol is in this stuff?”

“I don’t know man!” he replied, before seeing someone else and rushing off to catch them. No wonder Leslie and Ann were so wasted. 

You turn your head to see Jean-Ralphio still sitting in the seat next to you, smiling giddily. He opens his mouth to say something, but Leslie was pushing a new glass into your hand and Ann was dragging you to the dancefloor with them before you knew it. You downed the glass and began dancing with the girls, although you couldn’t help but look back and see Jean-Ralphio still sitting there watching. The heat rose to your cheeks, and turned back to Leslie and Ann. The two didn’t notice your distracted state, how you kept an eye on the man all night. They were too busy fighting over who knows what. 

Eventually they both stormed off, leaving you in the middle of the dancefloor alone. Though that didn’t last for long. Long fingers gripped you hips from behind, and you turned to slap the guy, but when your eyes met the big brown ones of none other than Jean-Ralphio, you lost all your gusto. Instead you turned back around, grinding your hips down on his, which caused him to grip you tighter. You continued your motions for the rest of the song before glancing around, hoping nobody from your work had seen your weakness. 

When you had determined no one had seen you, you spun around in Jean-Ralphio's arms, leaning up and whispering in his ear, “How about we get out of here?”

Jean-Ralphio thought he could cum in his pants right there, but held his arousal in, nodding frantically.

“Meet me outside in 5 minutes,” you whisper again, turning and rushing off to give an excuse for leaving.

You found Donna in her usual VIP spot and chatted for a few minutes, before yawning falsely and claiming you were ‘so bored you might go home’. Donna offered to send one of her boytoys with you but you politely declined. 

Out front Jean-Ralphio paced under a streetlight, he had already called a cab for you and was just waiting anxiously for you to meet him. For a moment, he thought you might have been pranking him and thought of returning to the party, but then again, you were too hot for him to miss this opportunity. 

“Jean-Ralphio!” you called softly from the side of the building, gesturing for him to come closer. He followed your lead and did.

“Hey, I almost thought you wouldn’t come-” he starts.

“SHhhh,” you hush him, not wanting anyone outside to see or hear you with him. You pull him close as a cab rolls up. 

“Oh, this is us!” he rushed over to the cab opening the door in a wide gesture. You follow, but as you’re about to duck into the cab, you notice another cab pulling up and see none other than Ben Wyatt quickly rushing to the cab, you catch his eye and you have a silent exchange, an agreement.

You climb into the cab, pulling Jean-Ralphio in after you.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks.

You give him your address and he takes off down the road, your apartment was only a little more than 5 minutes away. But man, did Jean-Ralphio utilize those 5 minutes. He drew a hand up your thigh, causing you to look at him. When you did, you got caught in his eyes again, giving him opportune time to lean in and smash his mouth into yours. He was in no way graceful, hands roaming your body, and gripping your tits roughly. But you can’t say you didn’t enjoy every second of it. You were almost too caught up in him to notice the cab pull up to your apartment. You handed the cabbie some cash, and exited the car, dragging Jean-Ralphio, up the walkway to your apartment building. You fumble with your keys for a second, before opening the door and heading up the stairs, Jean-Ralphio right on your heels. You feel his hands run up and down your torso as you fumble with your keys once again to get into your apartment. When the door opens, you’re pulling him in and pushing him towards the bedroom. 

The backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards, you climbing on top of him hungrily. You rip off his jacket and shirt, discarding them somewhere in the room, and rid yourself of your dress. The sight of you causes Jean-Ralphio to pause for a moment, then with newfound vigor, he rolls you over so that he is on top. He slowly kisses down your body, paying homage to every part. But eventually you get impatient and sit up to tug on his belt, trying to remove it. He gets the message and returns to your mouth, as you finally get the belt undone and slide his pants down. He messes with the clasp of your bra before you help him and remove it yourself. You lift your hips as he helps you out of your underwear, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He stops to stare once again. Which you find endearing and incredibly attractive, so you push yourself up to lock your lips with his again. Reaching into his boxers to grab his length, you pump him a few times in your hand. He groans in response.

You push his boxers down and lean back, lining him up with your entrance. He runs the head of his cock along your folds, teasing you slightly, before pushing into you all the way. You moan at the feeling of fullness. He sets a reckless pace, which makes him a withering mess in no time. “Stop,” you tell him. He does, though he stays inside of you. “I want to be on top,” he moans loudly at your admission. 

He rolls over, pulling himself up into a sitting position against your headboard. You straddle his waist and slowly sink back down on his cock. He moans again, “ Fuck , you’re amazing.” You set a slow pace, which has him grasping at the bedsheets beside him. As you move up and down slowly, your hands tangle in his gorgeous curls. He ruts his hips lightly as you tug on his curls, pulling another moan out of him. He begins to suck on your neck, which has you feeling more eager to get off. You increase your speed, and he leans his head back in response, mouth agape. “I’m- fuck , I’m gonna cum,” he moans.

“Not yet,” you chide. Rolling your hips in a different pattern, which causes your clit to rub against his pubic bone deliciously. You were so close. You rub your clit harder against him, and let out a deep moan. “Fuck, Jean-Ralphio,” you lean down and rub your clit with your first two fingers, continuing to ride him, which pushes you over then edge, “ Shit ,” you scream as you cum. You ride out your high before lifting off of him, and grabbing his cock in your hand to pump him firmly until his seed spreads all over your hand, Jean-Ralphio moaning loudly. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers as you roll off of him and head into the ensuite bathroom to wash your hand. When you return, you tug on an oversized sleep shirt and some underwear, climbing under the covers. “You’re amazing,” Jean-Ralphio says again, rolling over to look at you, you just smile and kiss the tip of his nose, letting sleep overcome you. 

The next morning when you woke, you were hazy, looking around you saw the clothes thrown about the room and didn’t think much of it. Turning in your bed, however, you were met with Jean-Ralphio, clad in only his underwear, spread across the sheets. “Shit,” you whisper to yourself, getting up and rushing to the bathroom. You toss some cold water in your face and look at yourself in the mirror. How could you do this to yourself?

[whisperinthedeadofnight]

With Five Figure Fanwork Exchange now completed, I also wanted to share the awesome gifts that I received from this exchange! They are really good and they deserve a lot of love, so definitely check them out if they sound interesting to you!

This one takes place in an AU where superheroes exist in Pawnee and follows April and Andy as they meet each other and discover that they are both superheroes and fall in love with each other.

This one is a crossover between Parks and Rec and A Series of Unfortunate Events. In it, Andy turns out to be a distant relative of the Baudelaires and he and April end up adopting the Baudelaires shortly after their wedding.

[realfernmayo]

Tbh, I would be a brat just so he could fuck the attitude out of me.

I LOVE IT!!!!!

CARMY BERZATTO YOU SAY?

May I humbly request Carmy telling you how bad you've been after giving him attitude at dinner service?

*retreats back into bog*

Attitude Adjustment

warnings: SMUT (MDNI), fingering, squirting, lil orgasm denial, lil angst, lotsa brattiness, lotsa swearing

A/N: I know I strayed from the plot, but stay with me. I love you. Mwah.

“You’re pissin’ me off.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “You sent me to voicemail!”

“I had shit to do!”

He balanced against the entryway’s wall, untying his shoes while you stood crossed arm in the dimly lit kitchen.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal, you could admit that, but it was rude. Even if he didn’t care about himself enough to prioritize his general safety and wellbeing, you still did.

“Well fuck me then, I guess.” You let your arms dramatically drop to your side.

“Yeah?” He asked, straightening in his spine. “Fuck you then?”

“Yeah. Fuck me.”

You fought like this often, if you wanted to call it a fight. It was more of a “misunderstanding”, you’d coined it since the very first one. There was shouting and cursing, followed by a good ol’ fashioned attitude adjuster that ended with naked bodies underneath a pile of blankets and a post coital conversation.

The tension became palpable, almost electric, as he stood his ground, and you held your breath in anticipation.

“That what you want?” He asked, stalking towards you. “Huh? Want me to fuck you? Want me to fuck you to say sorry for doing my fucking job?”

He was right there in front of you, arms crossed and nodding after each question as if answering for you.

“Maybe.”

“No no,” he smirked, knowing exactly what you were playing. “Don’t ‘maybe’ me, not when you’ve been actin’ like a spoiled brat all night. Tell me what you want.”

It was a game of cat and mouse. Give in, or don’t. Make it fun, or make it easy. You chewed your tongue while weighing the options.

He decided to help you out, brushing the pads of his fingers experimentally against your clothed core.

You gasped at the sensation, subconsciously opening yourself up to him. “I want,” you swallowed, accidentally stumbling backwards. “I want you to say you’re sorry for not answering my calls.”

“Yeah?” He coos, eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. ”Anything else?”

“I want you to say sorry for-for yelling at me,” you scrunch your eyes closed and balance your weight against the small table while his fingers rub circles against your clit.

“What else?” He enjoys the way your facade fades with each routine circle.

“I-I want you to,” you inhale sharply as he expertly bypasses your underwear and easily slips a finger into your cunt. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Want me to fuck you?” He goads, already knowing how worked up you get while you’re fighting. “Like this?” He curls a second finger into your velvet heat, relishing in the way you become pliable.

“Mhm,” you moan, grinding your hips into his hand, enjoying the way his palm presses into your clit. “Please.”

“I don’t know if I should,” he teases, placing slow, wet kisses against your throat. “You knew I was gonna be late tonight.”

“Forgot,” you moaned, craning your neck, giving him access to every inch of you.

“Forgot,” he huffed into your skin, ignoring the way his pants grew tighter with each buck of your hips.

“God, Carm,” you whine.

“Feels good?”

“So good,” you throw your arm around his neck, pulling him in closer to you. “Kiss me,” you breathe.

“First you want me to say sorry,” he chuckles, “now you want me to kiss you?” He watches the way you contort your face, attempting to look as if he wasn’t seconds away from pulling an orgasm out of you.

“Please?” you whine, giving your best half-lidded puppy dog eyes.

Fuck it.

Give in.

Make it easy.

He lifts you up without a struggle, allowing you to plant yourself on the edge of the small table, collecting your body into his own as he holds you by the back of your neck. Your lips lazily crash against his, unable to stay connected for long as your jaw trembles from the budding orgasm.

It was embarrassing how quickly you were to losing this fight, but that’s usually how it goes.

“I’m gonna,”

“Don’t do it,” he warns but doesn’t stop his rhythmic pumping.

“Can’t help it Carmy,” you bite your lip in hopes it would deter you.

“You better try.”

You do. You do try, but it’s a weak attempt.

There was no way of stopping it from happening. He was knuckle deep massaging your gspot and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck while your fingers circled your clit, it was impossible to stop, but he knew that.

“Fuck!”

Your body goes rigid just before you gush all over his hand. He’s quick to kneel down, suctioning his lips against your swollen bundle of nerves while pulling the pleasure from your core.

Your thighs instinctively wrap around his head, his unruly curls rick tickling your soft skin. You attempt to push him away, but he’s diligent. Skilled. Determined to make sure you knew how sorry he was.

“Carmy, fuck! I can’t!” Your limbs go limp and you all but fall back onto the table top.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he rose from his position, studying the way you were sprawled out on the way-too-small table like a rag doll that had been thrown to the the side.

You couldn’t make yourself open your eyes, especially as he caressed the side of your face. You hummed, purred, at the feeling, enjoying the tenderness that always followed.

“You okay?” He asked gently, stroking a thumb against your cheek.

“Mhm,” you sighed, unable to contain your smile.

Your eyes eventually adjusted to the distant warm glow, and you finally got a good look at him. He was beautiful, even if he smelled like oil and cigarettes. Even with the bloodshot eyes and sleepy smile. He was beautiful, even with the stain…

“Oh my god,” you were mortified at the damp discoloration of his shirt, evidence of your own doings just minutes prior.

“What? What’s wrong?” He was timid as you sat up too quickly, afraid that the moment of softness was too much.

“Your shirt,” you panicked, embarrassment washing over you completely.

He had to look down to discover the issue. It wasn’t an issue at all, really, and he almost laughed at how unserious it truly was until realizing you were completely serious.

“It’s nothing, honey. Don’t worry about it. See,” he removed it effortlessly, throwing it in a pile of his dirty laundry that had already been collecting. “Nothin.”

You can’t help but avoid his gaze, studying the goosebumps on your thighs. “I’m sorry about your shirt,” you mumble.

“And I’m sorry about the voicemails.”

You perk up at that, only allowing a fraction of a smile to grow.

“Can we call it even?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours.

Give in, or don’t. Make it fun, or make it easy.

“Maybe.”

[shyacross]

Snakehole - Earth Swashbuckler Imaginator

Here's him ingame (the lighting is kinda weird he doesn't always look like that)

[omegaremix]

Autumn 2017 Mixtape.

Jah Wobble & The Edge & Holger Czukay “Hold On To Your Dreams”

Couch Slut “Summer Smiles”

Appetite self-titled cassette

Wilbert Longmire “Pleasure Island”

Drvg Cvltvre “United States Of Fuck You, The”

Annette Peacock & Paul Bley “A Loss Of Consciousness”

Gordon’s War “Got To Fan The Flame”

Moon Diagrams “Nightmoves”

McNeal & Miles “Ja Ja”

John Carpenter “Assault Theme” (Legowelt RMX)

Drvg Cvltvre “Analogue Warfare Pt. 1″

Ciarra Black Pendulum

V/Vm “All Night Long (Butcher All Night)”

Marijuana Deathsquads “Crazy Master”

Unsane Sterilize

Ninos Du Brazil Vida Eterna

Zola Jesus Vessel

Cold Cave “Glory”

Eric Copeland “Neckbone”

Bernice Chardiet / Martha Hayes “All By Myself”

Happy Meals “Tomorrow Could Be Heaven”

Traces Of Ghosts “Nasty”

Couch Slut “Penalty Scar”

Jah Wobble & Jaki Liebezeit & Holger Czukay “Twilight World” 

Pharoah Sanders “Greeting To Saud (Brother McCoy Turner)”

Cansei De Ser Sexy “Honey”

Prurient & The Rita “Side A”

Eric Random & The Bedlamites “Father Can Yell”

Jah Wobble “Blueberry Hill”

Damn Whore “Sadie Pinn”

Slothrust “Sex And Candy”

Metz “Drained Lake”

Marijuana Deathsquads “Crosstown Crippler”

M.O.T.O. “It Tastes Just Like A Milkshake”

Guitar Wolf “Fujiyama Attack”

Dedekind Cut “Fear In Reverse 2″

Birthing Hips “Sex Bias”

Hirut Bekele “Lishekem Fiker”

Sakura & The Quests “My Boy Lollipop”

Krimewatch 2016 demo

Orphx “What Will Burn”

Roman Cross Winter Cross Reh

Daeva Pulsing Dark Absorptions

Farah “Into Eternity”

Pharoah Sanders “Creator Has A Master Plan, The” 

Godflesh “Post Self”

Bill Orcutt “Collective Action” (live)

Moon Diagarms “Magic Killer”

Snakehole “Something To Become”

Symmetry Themes For An Imaginary Film

Demdike Stare “Savage Distort”

Subtle Turnhips “F* The People F* The Power F* The People To The Power”

[canonfatbisexualenby]

in regards to that post you rb'd recently, gimmie all the lore of your ship with mark >:3 🤲🤲 i've been dyingg to know more abt you guys :3

AAAAHHH BESTIE JEROME YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY /lh /frndly

Even though I only have so much lore with him currently I will share tee hee!

Soooo, I picture my S/I Libby not showing up in my canon until about S1E6, since it’s a public setting I can imagine her being at (Andy’s first concert with Mouserat after his recovery). She just briefly looks at him and thinks ‘he’s cute’ but I don’t really think her and Mark would interact one on one at this time, because he’s clearly very smitten with Ann (and later Leslie lol) that night!

I’m still pondering how exactly they first meet ‘alone’, but I think it’s when for some reason he has to go to the library in Eagleton (where she works heh) around late S2 (after his breakup w/ Ann)??

At this point Libby is moderately crushing on Mark from some brief, passing past experience somewhere around the time he’s going out with Ann, but doesn’t think he feels about her either which way especially since he’s taken at this point.

Eventually he starts making excuses to go all the way to the Eagleton library, just to see her, after a somewhat tender one on one convo 😳!

During ‘The Master Plan’, he sees her at the Snakehole Lounge, hanging out with a few friends. They (maybe?) dance once or twice during the night but she thinks he’s just being friendly, since he’s never outright flirted with her or made a move at this point. She steps out for a cigarette later on, and he figures this is his ‘chance’ because he is a bit tipsy looool.

They talk outside briefly before Mark tries to kiss her. She rejects him because A) he’s too drunk to say yes or no and B) she doesn’t want their first kiss to be outside of a club right after a breakup. She gets him a cab home and reminisces heavily about the kiss for a few weeks afterwards.

He tries to ‘clean up his act’ a bit for her, coming to the library randomly one day to ask her out on a date.

I haven’t developed much past that but I hope you enjoy nonetheless ☺️!! Thanks again!!!