daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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Because lets face it, Matt fails at secret identies almost as much as Tony Stark.

^HALLOWEEN, I need to learn to fuckng spell.

(eyyy i thought of a title - ty tegan and sara :3)

sorry to leave you hanging! real life caught up with me a little bit. there’s a lot about this last part especially that i’m not happy with (u might see me lurking on that beta thread later lol) but i know if i don’t post it now i’ll end up just talking myself out of finishing it at all. hopefully it’s okay c: thanks so much for the comments and everything, you’re awesome <3

***

Matt always looks more at home in Foggy’s apartment than he does in his own - in Foggy’s opinion, anyway. There’s something settling about having him there; a stillness and an ease in the way he takes a moment, grounding himself in reminders of where everything is - Foggy’s TV, his coffee table, the pleather couch that Matt had been begging him to throw out ever since he’d bought it because, in his words, “Pleather”.

Eventually, Matt loosens his grip on his cane and props it against the wall. He smiles and it’s a little tight, a little sad. “It’s been a while,” he says. Foggy knows what he means, even though he hasn’t allowed himself to closely examine the fact that the last time Matt was here was a few days before Foggy tugged the mask off of a dying man and found his best friend’s face underneath. He’s forgiven Matt but, apparently, that forgiveness doesn’t extend to inviting Daredevil into his home. At least, it hadn't until today.

Not that the man in Foggy’s living room really is Daredevil. Not in this moment. He looks too much like he did when they first met and it makes swooping nostalgia and what Foggy knows is pure, unadulterated affection, stir in his gut. He touches the back of Matt’s hand, curls their fingers together. “You remember where the bedroom is, right?”

Since sharing a room with Matt, Foggy has developed a habit of keeping his space tidy. The floor is clear, the surfaces uncluttered, and Matt makes his way through the apartment without difficulty. His palm is warm against Foggy’s, his breathing slow and even, his glasses flashing dully in the light from the bare bulb. Foggy wants to kiss him so badly, here, in his home - this place that he’s made for himself because Matt asked him to, because Matt wanted them to be together, wants - Nelson and Murdock, Murdock and Nelson.

Foggy wonders when he went and got himself so gone for this mess of a man. He wonders when he became a mess, himself, and if it was at around the same time that he started to make sure things were always tidy.

“Get undressed?” he asks when they’re in his room, and Matt obliges. His glasses come off first and he doesn’t look down to unbutton his shirt, doesn’t need to, so Foggy gets to watch his eyes as he fiddles with the fabric. They’re fixed, unfocused, somewhere around Foggy’s left eyebrow, and Foggy drinks in the sight, locks it down in memory for all the future days when Matt’s on the news or in the office, and Foggy’s not allowed to see them.

Matt shrugs off the shirt and it’s a sweet tease, a ripple of muscles, a rush of cotton sliding over skin.

Foggy wants to touch him and make him forget about every fucker that never did. His fingers twitch, his breathing stutters, and he walks across the room to his bedside table. Matt’s completely naked by the time he turns back around, and he’s smiling.

Foggy thinks, You’ll be the death of me, and puts the cock ring and a condom into Matt’s hands. Matt blinks and turns them over a few times in his fingers.

“Are you sure I need this?” he says, but instead of holding up the cock ring, it’s the condom that he seems unsure about. Somehow, Foggy knows that he’s not asking whether they can fuck without it, but wondering if Foggy really believes that he's going to last long enough to come anywhere but all over himself. It is, admittedly, a delectable image, but not one that Foggy intends on ending the night with.

“Very sure,” Foggy tells him. “But uh, the cock ring goes on first. You have to be soft."

"Oh," Matt says, and then goes pink. "Better hurry, then. Do you, um...I’ve never worn one before?”

“Right, yeah, let me--” he steps forward and takes it from Matt’s hand. They’re so close that he can feel Matt’s breath on his face, and his heart is beating almost painfully hard in his chest. “It’s silicon,” he says, even though Matt could probably tell from the texture or smell or whatever. “And stretchy, you have to sorta--” he reaches down to cup Matt’s balls and Matt groans and lets his head tip back.

“Hurry,” he says, again. “I don’t...you don’t have to explain.”

Foggy takes his word for it and gently, quickly - light touches, light touches - gets the ring around Matt’s cock and balls. The second he’s done, he kisses Matt’s cheek and runs his hand along the shaft. He gets hard so fast Foggy wouldn’t be surprised if he feels dizzy from it.

“You want me to do the condom, too?” Matt hesitates, probably imagining some time he’d answered that with a yes, only to shake apart seconds later, so Foggy adds, “Trust me.”

Matt nods then, and Foggy doesn’t think he’s ever handled a condom with as much honest to God reverence as he does now, with Matt’s trust like a physical thing in the room, warm and fragile. Foggy thinks of a flower budding for the first time, and then almost laughs, because of course he could have a dick in hand and Matt Murdock would still be able to make him picture fucking flowers.

“What’s funny?” Matt asks, like he can hear smiles that don’t even exist yet, laughs that haven’t even happened, and that, for some reason, reminds Foggy of how badly he wants to watch this man fall apart in all the most gorgeous ways.

“You’d be a sunflower,” he says, knowing it’s true. “Jesus Christ, you’d be a freaking sunflower.”

Matt raises his eyebrows, looking a bit amused and a lot bewildered, but Foggy doesn’t give him time to say anything. He puts his hands on his hips and pushes, making Matt stumble back until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Another meaningful shove and he’s lying on his back, giving Foggy the full view of his naked front; the stretchy shine of old scars, the mottled fade of more recent bruises, and the familiar planes of his body - the lines of muscle and trail of hair down from his bellybutton. He’s hard all over; the flat of his stomach is tense, his nipples are pebbled, and his dick…

Foggy’s biting back moans as he strips, knowing that Matt’s listening to the sounds his clothes make as he peels them off and drops them to the floor. When he’s done, he crawls up Matt’s body with his hands and knees pressing into the mattress, and Matt follows his progress with a tilt of his head. Foggy would only have to lower himself an inch and they’d be touching, all along Matt’s torso.

He bends his neck, lets his hair brush against Matt’s face, and says into his ear, “We’re gonna take this slow. That okay with you?”

Matt shudders and Foggy feels fingers dig into his waist. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Foggy gently bites Matt’s earlobe and knows Matt’s mouth has fallen wide open, that he’s gaping at the ceiling, letting out wet gasps. “I want you to tell me everywhere you want to be touched. I don’t care how you react, alright? I don’t care what your body does, or what you think it’s going to do. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Matt swallows and Foggy hears the rasp of his heels dragging along the duvet. “You don’t have--”

“I know I don’t have to,” Foggy cuts across him and twists Matt’s hair between his fingers, playing with it. “But why the hell would you think I don’t want to? You’re so damn hot, Murdock.” Matt laughs at that, startled and pleased, and Foggy takes the opportunity to reiterate, “Tell me.”

Matt sighs, and his grip on Foggy’s waist tightens ever so slightly. “Kiss me,” he says. “Kiss my mouth.”

Foggy smiles. “Duh. I was going to do that anyway.”

“Oh,” something conflicted unfolds across Matt’s face. “Not everyone does. I don’t always let them, while we’re actually...in case...the first time, I…”

Foggy watches him struggle to get the words out, and imagines him fumbling through a first kiss, getting hard without meaning to, blushing to the roots of his hair.

He wants to punch whoever it was, after that first time, who continued to make Matt feel like kissing was something he had to put a limit on. Then, he presses his lips to Matt’s so he doesn’t have to try and talk anymore. Matt lets out a muffled, “Mmph,” of surprise and lurches up into it, his tongue insistent, his blunt nails scratching down Foggy’s sides in a way that’s fucking delicious.

“God, you’re so good at that,” Foggy praises on a gasp. “So, so good. Tell me what else.” Matt groans and he’s still chasing Foggy’s lips, hovering millimetres away. Foggy says again, damp against Matt’s mouth, “Tell me what else, Matt.”

“Can you touch--I want--”

“What?” Foggy kisses him again, just for a moment. He can’t resist it. Matt’s eyes are screwed shut and there’s colour high on his cheeks. Foggy thumbs at the spots of warmth, and asks, “You want me to touch your dick?”

“N-no,” Matt shakes his head vigorously. “Not yet, not yet.”

“Okay,” Foggy shushes him. “Your nipples, then?”

Matt’s eyes snap open. “Fuck,” he says, “Uh, fuck. Yes, Foggy.”

He looks like he’s ready to come, as if prepared for the fact that he will if Foggy follows through. But Foggy knows better. He rubs the flat of his hand over Matt’s chest, dragging it roughly over one of his nipples.

“I wanna use my tongue,” he says, because it feels important to tell Matt what he’s going to do, to tell him that he wants to do it. “And my teeth.”

“Yes,” Matt hisses. “I want you to, I want...”

When Foggy sucks Matt’s nipple into his mouth and rolls the other between his fingers, Matt actually cries out, a choked yell that Foggy wants to hear again and again. He laves at Matt’s skin, teeth grazing, until every breath Matt draws is on a hitching whine, until his movements are shocky and disjointed, until Foggy’s drooling.

“Your mouth,” Matt manages. “Foggy, your fucking mouth.”

Foggy grins against Matt so he can feel it and, God, Foggy feels like he’s glowing. He doesn’t know where the ground is anymore, he’s floating so damn high. “You want me to put it on something else?” he asks.

“Shit,” Matt says, eyes going wide. His hips buck, once, out of his control, and his dick presses hard into Foggy’s stomach. And then, before Foggy can properly register what’s happening, Matt’s shrinking back, slamming his ass back down against the covers, and pushing at Foggy. “Shit, no, sorry--”

“Matt,” Foggy says. "Matt," he seizes Matt's wrists, circles them with his fingers, and pins them just above his head. "If you want me to get off you now," he says, "I will. But I promise you, everything's okay."

“But, I touched you.”

“And did you come?”

Matt takes a moment, eyes darting uncertainly. “No.”

“No,” Foggy repeats, letting Matt go and brushing a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “Do you want to stop?” Slowly, Matt shakes his head. “I get the feeling you wouldn’t mind me sucking you off though, huh?”

“I’ve never,” Matt sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “No ones ever done that for me. To me. Whatever.”

Foggy had figured as much. It doesn’t stop the unpleasant lurch in his belly though, because, okay, a lot of people in the world haven’t received head, but Foggy doubts that many of them have taught themselves to give it to other people like fucking pros.

“Well, I definitely owe you,” he says, trying to sound offhand about it and pretty sure he’s failing. “Maybe you can give me a few pointers.”

A laugh bursts from Matt and he pats aimlessly at Foggy’s face, his thumb catching briefly on his lip. “I can’t imagine you’ll need any.”

“Oh?” Foggy turns his head to kiss Matt’s palm. “Have I been pretty good so far, then?”

Matt hums, sobering, although his eyes are still crinkled around the edges. “Something like that.”

“Wow,” Foggy says, dryly. “Glad to know I’m making an impression.”

Another laugh, giddy, Matt’s head tipped back into the pillow, his fingers still playing lightly over Foggy’s face. Foggy catches one in his mouth for an instant and digs in his teeth, making the laugh stutter. Then, he ducks down, fits his hands snugly around Matt’s hips, and wraps his lips around his cock.

As far as Foggy has always been concerned, cock is just cock. There’s nothing not to like, particularly, but nothing very special about them, either. Matt isn’t exempt; he’s got a pretty package, it’s true, but Foggy has no real reason to like it more than any other (apart from the fact that it belongs to Matt, obviously).

When he gets it in his mouth, though…

Jesus Christ.

Matt’s feet are flat against the bedcovers on either side of Foggy’s head and his toes curl, his back arches, his fingers pull once, hard, on Foggy’s hair and then, in an instant of visible self-restraint, he grabs fistfuls of the duvet. His hips are moving in minute thrusts, each jerk upwards followed by a more forceful one down, and nuh-uh, Foggy’s not having any of that. Matt’s had this coming for way too long.

He grabs Matt’s ass with both hands and lifts, encouraging him to fuck his mouth, and yeah. He’s choking on Matt’s dick and it’s one of the most incredible things that’s happened to him in forever.

“Fuck,” Matt says, and he sounds...the only word Foggy can think of is ‘devastated’, and he just relaxes further, opens up his throat a little more. “Fu-fuckfuckfuck. I’m gonna come, shit, Foggy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna--”

Foggy pulls off and Matt wails, thrusting up into the air, and his face is red and blotchy, his hair’s a mess, he looks like he’s going to sob or scream, but he doesn’t. He just writhes for a few moments longer while Foggy pets his thighs and his ass and mumbles incoherent words and kisses into the taut expanse of his stomach, which relaxes a little further with each second.

“Gonna open myself up,” Foggy tells him. “Gonna get myself wet and ride you until you can’t stand it.” Matt doesn’t answer except to throw an arm over his eyes and let out a shaky exhale, his whole body twitching, and Foggy grabs the lube from his bedside table, slicks up his fingers. “I’ll hold you down, yeah? I’ll make you take it for so long that you’ll be so fucking desperate--” he gets up on his knees, presses at his hole and feels the muscle give. Matt lets out a noise that’s quiet and needy, and shit, he can hear this. He can hear the sound of Foggy’s fingers entering his own body, the wetness of the lube, the stretch. “You want to be inside me? You want that?”

“Yes,” Matt says, and that’s...well, it’s pretty clear. Foggy lines himself up, get’s his hands on Matt’s chest, thumb circling his nipples for good measure, and sinks down. He feels Matt fill him up slowly, inch by inch, and he knows he didn’t quite prep himself enough, but then maybe he did, because the burn is perfect. Foggy breathes through his nose, steadying, and then rocks forward and feels sparks shoot up his spine. Matt’s fingers don’t seem to know what to do with themselves, and they scrabble and squeeze randomly at Foggy’s waist, his belly, his ass, and all the while Matt’s got Foggy’s name catching over and over behind his teeth. “Fog--f-foggy, Foggy, F-f-foggy--”

Foggy pinches the skin over Matt’s ribs and tugs at his earlobe. He brings Matt’s hand to his mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, lapping at the skin between them, his saliva sliding down the back of Matt’s hand. He pulls Matt’s hair, scratches and rubs at his scalp, feels him shake and shake and shake.

“If you want to come,” he says, “You’ll have to beg me, okay?”

It’s ironic, Foggy is somehow coherent enough to think, that it’s this that sends Matt over the edge - too soon for him to get out another word.

He surges upright, arms moving to crush Foggy to him, and his forehead falling to rest on Foggy’s breastbone as he comes on breaths that hitch around a deep moan. The sudden movement forces him impossibly deeper into Foggy, so all he can feel is Matt, Matt, Matt, on every side, in every empty space, and his dick is trapped between their bodies, and the friction is so Goddamn sweet.

***

Afterwards, once Foggy’s ran a damp cloth over Matt’s belly and taken off the cock ring (which he is already starting to handle with worrying levels of deference), they lie together under the covers. Matt had complained half-heartedly at the lack of silk sheets, but fallen quiet once Foggy got his arms around him, tugging him as close as physically possible.

“Sorry I, didn’t manage that last, uh, request,” Matt says, easing his way into the comfortable silence that’s fallen.

Foggy smirks and doesn’t stop tracing patterns across Matt’s temples and down over his cheeks. “There’s always next time.”

Matt bites Foggy’s chest and it’s achingly soft, but Foggy says, “Ow!” anyway. It makes Matt laugh, and Foggy finds himself being tackled, until Matt’s on top of him with their fingers locked together.

“I love sex with you,” Matt says, and he looks like he’s tasting an idea - a possibility that’s never occurred to him before, that he never thought he’d have.

“Cock ring, buddy,” Foggy says, because it’s not him that’s giving Matt a revelation. Matt could’ve been having great sex for the whole of his life if that scrap of silicon had entered it a bit sooner.

“No,” Matt’s shaking his head and tightly squeezing Foggy’s hands. “No, Foggy. You.”

Foggy stares at Matt, at how he’s straddling his waist, with his smile as open as Foggy’s ever seen it.

He knows he can’t take Matt’s word for it, not quite yet, but when Matt kisses him with their palms still touching - the sleepy kind, the let me stay over kind - he figures that it’s only a matter of time.

can't believe i wrote smth too long to fit in a dw comment omg how did this fic turn into such a monster

honestly I did not hear many good things about Shadowland either, but oh my god Reborn, so good, sad guilty scruffy bearded Matt hello.

"So hey," the dom - Foggy - said. His heartbeat had picked up a little; he was clearly focused. The food had been a way to try to get Matt to soften up, that was fine, it wasn't the first time someone had tried it. "How did you get all those scars?"

Matt licked his spoon before he answered. Foggy had said things about finishing what he ordered and eating until he wasn't hungry any more, which was one reason that Matt had finished his plate, but he also wanted to try to confuse Foggy as much as possible. (He remembered Stick saying, with real disgust, you act like a sub and trust me, they'll be lining up to tell you what to eat and when to eat and when you can take a piss, kiddo; looked like once again, unfortunately, Stick had been right.) "I don't have a regular dom," he said. Which wasn't a lie, exactly. It just meant that hopefully, Foggy would get distracted and start talking about Matt's history instead of where the scars had come from.

"Wait, more than one person did this to you?" Foggy asked; he sounded shocked and disapproving.

"Yes," Matt said, because that was true enough.

"More than one dom? I mean - would I know them, were they locals?"

Matt shrugged. "What are you, some kind of lawyer?" he asked.

"I graduated Columbia," Foggy said. "Look, Matt, it would make me really happy if you didn't lie to me, okay? You don't want to answer a question, you can say you don't want to answer a question, it's -"

"I want to make you happy," Matt said, by rote, thinking two nights ago I kicked a man unconscious and made sure the girl he was threatening got home safe and this is a waste of time.

YELLING

oh man i always thought my deal was "someone gently and politely takes Matt apart" but AS IT TURNS OUT my deal is also "someone fucks Matt up while laughing really hard about all his masochistic guilt because they hate him"

uh.

i am comfortable with this. thank you, anon. :D

Claire

1.) Her first CPR card. She got it when she was 16 and starting to work at a life guard to help to make ends meet and trying to save for college. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life then. If asked, she would have said she wanted to go to college and find a good job some place far, far away. Maybe the west coast. Maybe LA. To get away from this particular hell hole she grew up in. But deep down she knew she belonged here.
So she helps the people.
So she stays.

2.) Her mother’s pearl necklace. It’s a simple thing, no bells or whistles, just a white pearl dangling off a silver chain. It’s a little worn out too - old. She can’t say why this piece of her mother’s jewelry is so important to her. Why it was the only one she insisted on keeping as part of her inheritance while her sisters divided the rest up amongst them, or agreed to sell. It had been nestled at the bottom of the jewelry box, under a botch who’s paint was peeling. But there was just… something about it. Something that gave her a feeling of completeness, a feeling of coming home, of family.
She doesn’t see her sisters often. They aren’t like those picturesque families where everyone who punched and kicked and pulled hair gets a long all sweet and loving as adults - even after lost. But they’re aren’t hard feelings either…
Maybe the necklace connects her to them. Maybe wearing it around her next keeps the spell alive, so the next time one of them’s in town it doesn’t feel like it’s been years.
Maybe it’s just a necklace.

3.) Her mattress. Claire splurged on her mattress. And if you’re a nurse working 12 hours shifts… it’s important to be able to come home and sleep on something that actually feels good. And isn’t hard on her back.

I am, I just got sidetracked with a different fill. :3

Karen

She didn’t take many things with her to New York. She didn’t have many things in the first place.
They’re just a reminder of the impermanence that defines her life. Especially when she needs to leave them behind or become someone else.

If she felt she could keep things of value she’d have kept:

1.) A pair of earrings that remind her of the ones her grandma wore in her childhood not memories. Dark blue gems dangling form a small diamond that is the ear ring proper.

2.) Pictures of the others. She misses them sometimes. She wonders where they are when they go off the grid, and how they are once they’ve returned.

3.) A good bottle of Russian vodka. The real stuff.

But it’s too dangerous.

It’s all too dangerous.

So everything she owns is meaningless. Or, conveys only the meaning she needs it to. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing real.

(Because old habits die hard.)

Vanessa

1.) A painting. Unsigned. It will never be worth anything. And she’d never sell it if it was. It’s a painting of her when she was eighteen. Flowers decorate her hair. She wore it long then, and it flows down, brushing against her bare back. Her first love had made it.

They parted was amicably part way through college when the work load became too much to have a relationship. It’s a nice reminder of similar times and young love. There’s something special, in a first, easy intimacy. And it takes some growing up to learn that as an adults, relationships will never be that easy. There’s too much responsibility. Too many weeds to pull. A lot more work to make the flowers bloom. And then you still get pricked by the thorns…

Love just isn’t worth it anymore… It’s best relegated to being a fond memory of two young women with easy smiles, beautiful faces, and an eye for art celebrate the optimistic affection in each other’s hearts.

2.) A blank canvas. Her first canvas. She never had the courage to paint on it. And now it seems to have become a piece on her own.
It’s a little ridiculous. Maybe even pretentious. But she still has it, hidden away in her room, under the bed. It’s a secret. Once she tried to make beautiful things.

3.) Her first engagement ring. Form a man she didn’t love. From a man she only half led on. From a man who’s name she doesn’t really remember.

She tries to feel bad about it. For the longest time it was her only engagement ring. And she considers digging it out form the bottom of whatever jewelry box it’s been forgotten in and throwing it away once Wilson proposes. It flashes through her mind for a second before she forgets.

Santino

1.) The watch his mother wore as a girl, which could probably fit on her wrist again. She gave it to him when she first contracted lung cancer and it didn’t look like she was going to make it the year.

2.) A teddy bear Claire gave him that she meant to give to her hospital’s toy drive. It’s a little thread worn by now, he finds himself running his hands across it’s soft fur so often. He hasn’t found a way to tell her that he still has it. He hasn’t found a way to say thank you. For everything, all of it.

3.) His college acceptance letters. He can’t go. Not anywhere. Not when his mother’s dying. Claire tells him they’ll always time to go later. He doesn’t want to have to think about that…

Glad I could provide! I was scrolling and this one hit like a sledgehammer and I-

well-
you know.

YELLS LOUDLY WITH YOU

OP here. Thank you! I'm also looking forward to reading it.

Matt's relationship to god, his Catholicism, grows stronger during the series. It solidifies from the point where at first he's outside the church, obviously thinking about things, his father, his life, and he refuses to go inside. Father Lantom is just a priest Matt politely brushes off several times, but eventually Matt goes inside the church at Father Lantom's request. Watch the show and watch Matt deciding to go inside on his own, to go to talk to Father Lantom, and eventually seek advice from Father Lantom. Eventually Matt goes from refusing to go outside to calling Father Lantom 'my priest.' He doesn't start out as hardcore Catholic, it's just a tradition for him, but through the series he embraces it honestly and openly, and his jokes about 'oh that's just the Catholicism' are actually on point by the end of the series. Maybe it's gradual enough that people miss it, but it's there and Matt really is very Catholic by the end of the series. It's weight heavily into his 'do not kill' tenet.

Oh, authornon, these are all so poignant and lovely, but I'm especially in love with Vanessa's!

AYRT I thought about it but I'll back off, sorry, didn't mean to be so chatty.

if i had any writing skills i'd be all over this. please someone.

YAAAASSSS

I AM DYING AT THE HOW NOT TO BE A DICK

Another idea:

Matt and Foggy defend the Pontiac Bandit. Jake immediately declares Matt and Foggy to be his second and third worst nemeses.

...ugh, i know what you mean, because now i want approximately nine thousand more fics about Vladimir having filthy mocking hatesex with Matt and matt feeling A Sad about it

uh.

(Op here) AHHHHH this is great, I want more!

(Potential Filler Anon) Alright, so I have begun to write something for this and I'm posting the first part as a mini fill. If OP's okay with the rest of the thing turning into Matt/Daredevil, I'll post the rest here, but if not, I'll put it up on AO3.

One day, Matt couldn't hide the suit well enough. Karen and Foggy had unexpectedly come over to go over some files and she stepped on the mask which was peeking out from beneath the couch. It probably would have been fine, except she had thin socks on and had stepped on one of the horns.

"Matt," she asked, pulling it out from beneath the couch. "What's this?"

She held it up to the light and frowned at it.

"Um...," Matt said, throwing Foggy a panicked glance. "It's...um..."

"Why do you have Daredevil's mask?"

"Um" "He's dating him," Foggy blurted at the same time. He threw Matt a glance and shrugged.

"Really?" Karen sounded skeptical, but there was something in her voice that said that she would be perfectly happy believing the lie.

Matt nodded. "It's true. I was trying to keep it a secret for obvious reasons."

Karen glared at him.

"Oh my god, Matt is that why you're getting so beat up all the time? Is he hurting you?"

Matt turned as red as the mask currently at Karen's feet.

"No, it's..."

"Oh," Karen said. "Oh"

Next to him, Foggy grimaced.

"That's not something we needed to know buddy."

"She asked!" Matt defended.

Karen laughed. "I want to know everything."

Matt gulped. He couldn't see this turning out well.

laughing so hard right now!

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Prompt Post #4

Matt going as Daredevil for Haloween

Re: Matt going as Daredevil for Haloween

Re: FILL: 5+1, matt/OCs, matt/foggy - '(all i wanna get is) a little bit closer' [4.5/5]

Re: FILL: 5+1, matt/OCs, matt/foggy - '(all i wanna get is) a little bit closer' [5/5]

Re: [gen or shippy] aftermath of MCU!Shadowland

Re: D/s verse - Foggy trains Matt

Re: {Fill} - Drag me home (to the cage with all the other animals) - 1/1

Fill 1/4: Gen or any: Most important objects

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 7/?

Fill 2/4: Gen or any: Most important objects

Fill 3/4: Gen or any: Most important objects

Fill 4/4: Gen or any: Most important objects

Re: {Fill} - Drag me home (to the cage with all the other animals) - 1/1

Re: Matt and Karen: She finally tells him off for how he talks to her.

Re: Matt's Relationship with Catholicism and God

Re: Fill 3/4: Gen or any: Most important objects

Re: Suits crossover

Re: claire is a tattoo artist au

Re: Daredevil/Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Re: Wrath of Foggy

Re: Daredevil/Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Re: {Fill} - Drag me home (to the cage with all the other animals) - 1/1

Re: tiny!fill from a different anon

Mini Fill: Matt's dating Daredevil

Re: Mini Fill: Matt's dating Daredevil