daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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You're not the only one.

I'm a bad person because I'm imagining Matt just breaking a couple fingers on the groper and then identifying him by the screaming.

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out; my brain is stupid and decided that panic over nothing>writing. Ugh. ANYWAYS! There is some blood in this chapter, but it's kind of "blink and you miss it." Also, there is smut. ((which is weird because this is the first time I've ever posted smut??? I feel like a tiny, little old pigeon lady scattering filthy porn to a flock of readers. It's kinda great.

Hell’s Kitchen burned, as everyone knew it eventually would.

Foggy thought he’d never see the day.

He had taken Gusion’s advice and gone to Ms. Cárdenas’s apartment half an hour early with Karen in tow (looking up the name on his office’s latest visitor might have influenced that decision. Bad things usually happened to people who didn’t listen to predictions of the future by supernatural forces).

And apparently they arrived not a moment too soon, given by the explosion that knocked all three of them off of their feet a few minutes after they had walked in the door.

As expected, the ER was swamped when they arrived, Foggy and Karen supporting Ms. Cárdenas between them, who was sporting a nasty head wound. It took a good deal of elbowing to even get into the door with all of the panicking going on, but eventually they were able to get the sweet woman into a bed with medical attention more substantial than a balled up scarf pressed up to her forehead.

Sure it wasn’t much, just a bed and a professional to pay attention to the wound, but it was the small things that really counted during these times. Small things like Karen talking Ms. Cárdenas quietly through the things that the nurses were doing, the fact that the hallways had quieted down from their frantic shrieking to a frenzied mutter, or the fact that his own adrenaline had kept him from feeling the pain in his side for so long.

Wait, what?

A bit dazed, Foggy looked down to where his hand had automatically clamped down once his nerves started putting out all of the right signals.

‘Huh,’ he thought distantly, ‘I didn’t think that blood would look that dark.’

Foggy was out before he even hit the floor, unaware of the embarrassing sound he made that Karen would later liken to a swooning maiden from an 1800’s drama.

—

Foggy woke up later in a room by himself. The weak light filtering in through the blinds suggested that he had been out long enough for the night to pass. He felt gross; oily and gritty and… oddly lightheaded. None of this however took away from the sharp twinges of pain in his side.

Involuntarily, Foggy’s eyes slid shut and groaned long and loud, a sole noise of misery to broadcast his despair in all of its melodramatic glory.

Almost in response, a weight took up place on the side of the bed. Karen? Foggy hoped it was Karen, she was probably scared out of her mind.

“Ms. Page is fine,” an unfamiliar voice answered, “She went home a few hours ago.”

“Good,” Foggy mumbled. “Thanks for looking into my brain to get at that.”

An undignified snort of laughter came from the voice. “You were speaking out loud, Foggy.”

“No way,” Foggy answered, a slow smile creeping onto his face, “You totally read my mind. Weirder things have happened to me lately.”

“Oh really?”

Foggy decided to humor the voice. “Yeah, yesterday— wassit? Maybe the day before that— this woman came in and told me I should head over to my client’s house early. And what d’ya know! It saved my life!”

“Mhmmm.”

“And then she also did this thing where she- she reached out and booped my forehead.”

“She booped your forhead?”

“That’s what I said. An- And lemme tell you it was weird. Like she was giving me a…” Foggy paused, looking for the right word.

“…a title?”

“Yeah, or a promotion, or something. You’re totally reading my mind.” Foggy reached out, eyes still closed, for the voice’s body to clap a shoulder or give a playful punch but was disappointed to find he couldn’t reach anyone from his current position.

Groaning, Foggy pried his eyes open. Through his blurry vision, a man in a suit became apparent. Foggy took a few seconds to process this before a bigger grin split his face.

“Matt!” he chuckled, “Why didn’t you say it was you?”

The man smiled, more of a smirk than anything, “I thought you knew.”

“Your voice is different,” Foggy whined, “That’s cheating.”

“You’re the one cheating; you’re on painkillers.”

Foggy made an attempt to nudge Matt with the leg the Devil sat close to, but the shock of pain that caused was enough to discourage him. Matt twisted to face Foggy at the noise of pain that this made pass his lips.

“Hells, Foggy, I’m sorry-”

The human shook off his concerns woozily. “Literally not your fault, buddy. Unless you planted the bombs I got caught up in.”

Matt’s silence seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

“Matt…” Foggy said slowly, his voice low and accusing, “Why aren’t you answering me?” Matt’s flinch at the noise almost made him feel sorry for the other.

“I’m sorry,” Matt mumbled, “Some of my… demons planted the bombs. I think it’s a turf war.”

Foggy sighed in relief, “So it wasn’t you?”

“They are my responsibility.” This time Foggy went through with lightly kicking Matt.

“You’ve got a lot of misplaced guilt in you for being Satan and all.”

Matt shot him a reproachful look. “I am their superior. I should have been aware that their spat was going to affect my dealings.”

“No one can see the future.”

Matt snorted, “You know that’s not true.”

Foggy rubbed at his temples, temper slowly rising through the brain fog brought on by the drugs. “Yes, but you couldn’t have known it would come to that, Matt.”

“I know many that did. I didn’t hear of this once. I should have been more diligent.”

Foggy sagged back into the bed, troubled. It was obvious that Matt was convinced that this was his fault and there was probably nothing Foggy could do about it. “OK,” he conceded, “you’re not going to change your mind on this, regardless of how wrong you are.” He ignored the indignant expression on Matt’s face at that and kept going. “But I am not going to do your self-fla- flage- self-flagellation for you. You seem to be doing that just fine by yourself.”

Here, Matt hung his head, shame evident in every line of his body. Foggy paused before speaking again. “I’ll be upset with you when you’re at fault, OK? And trust me, you’ll know when I am. Promise.”

Matt looked a bit conflicted over the idea, but eventually nodded, his expression carefully kept blank.

Foggy huffed out a breath and then closed his eyes, strength suddenly leaving him.

“You should get some more sleep, Foggy,” Matt murmured.

“Bossy,” Foggy replied. “But OK, I could go for a nap. These drugs are gonna mangle my sleep schedule.”

From further down the bed, Matt hummed in agreement. Foggy almost jumped when a cool, dry hand swept back the hair from his forehead, but decided against saying anything.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Foggy dropped out of consciousness almost instantaneously.

—

Foggy and Matt were watching a movie.

This wasn’t anything new, but what was odd was then no matter how hard Foggy concentrated he had no idea what the film was. Also, he was pretty sure they had never gone to a movie theater before.

“Ah, I like this part.” Matt’s voice made Foggy look over to see the other man looking at the screen through his sunglasses.

(‘Ah, this is a dream.’ Foggy thought, ‘Matt can’t see.’)

The thought was swept away when Matt laughed at what he apparently saw on screen, open, sincere and all together breath-taking. Foggy was familiar with the sight, but he tried to never take it for granted.

Foggy tried to look at see what Matt was laughing at, he really did, but before he knew it Matt was facing him again.

“You missed it,” the man accused softly, “It was so good.”

Foggy shrugged, “Better things to look at, I guess.” Matt started at him for a while, obviously bemused. Around him, the dark interior of the movie theater morphed into an apartment, stark and Spartan in its decoration. The only lighting came from off to the side where a huge, flashing billboard took up most of the view. Foggy had never been here before.

“Better,” Matt murmured. “I wouldn’t know.”

(‘Ah good,’ Foggy mused, ‘Brain’s back to reality I see.’)

Foggy chuckled, “But it’s true.” Matt remained still, quietly observing the human.

Without warning, the scenery changed again and Matt kneeling between his legs, hands going for his fly.

“Hey, budd- ehng!” Foggy’s question was cut off when Matt deftly undid Foggy’s jeans and well, Foggy would be lying if he hadn’t thought about his before but wow this was a sudden development, dream or not.

Matt said nothing even as he heckled Foggy into lifting his hips and sliding his jeans and briefs down just far enough that Foggy was laid bare in front of Matt, cock standing out embarrassingly hard in the cool air. Almost wanting to get away (for want of trying to figure out what was going on), Foggy leaned back into the couch he was on, but Matt sat back on his heels, almost contentedly.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, and the breathy words made Foggy twitch.

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy choked out, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” At his question, Matt leaned forwards, resting his chin on the crease between Foggy’s thigh and this pelvis, close enough to Foggy’s dick for some of his hair to barely brush against it. The picture it made was exquisite, Matt looking submissive and pliant in a way that Foggy hadn’t thought would’ve worked on someone with a jaw line that chiseled.

“Worshiping, “ was Matt’s simple answer, before he brought his head back and kissed the tip of the cock in front of him, letting his lips linger on the slit almost chastely.

Foggy felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, but decided to go with it. “Don’t you need a deity or something for that?”

Matt looked up at the question and smiled softly. “Yeah, you do.” he agreed, but before Foggy could answer Matt ducked his head and lightly ran his tongue around the head of Foggy’s dick. Once again, Foggy found himself speechless, and the feeling only grew exponentially when Matt slowly slid his lips down, down, down Foggy’s shaft, carefully laving attention to every vein and ridge he passed until it became obvious that Matt was not going to stop until Foggy was pressed to the back of his throat.

“Holy shit,” Foggy breathed, and Matt, the smug fucker, huffed out a laugh despite his full mouth. Matt’s slick, hot mouth, the gentle pressure of his tongue, the press of his hands against the inside of Foggy’s thighs, all of these made Foggy’s nerves thrum below his skin. Foggy curled his fingers into Matt’s hair, perhaps a bit too tightly, but the other didn’t seem to care.

Almost too quickly, Matt’s lips found their place at the base of Foggy’s member, and Foggy had to remind himself to breath at the sight. Then, almost coyly, Matt gently swallowed once, twice, and the heat around Foggy damn well rippled.

Huffing out another laugh at Foggy’s strangled gasp, Matt pulled back, sucking all the while with a look on his face that Foggy’s fried brain could only describe as “reverent.”

It wasn’t the red of Matt’s lips that did Foggy in, nor was it the barely-there hint of teeth along the shaft as Matt worked his way back up. It wasn’t the contented little moan that Matt let out when he stopped at the head of Foggy’s dick again, suckling awhile longer on the flesh, nor the flick of his tongue against Foggy’s slit.

No, it was the wet, lewd pop! and the yearning whine that Matt’s mouth made when he finally let Foggy’s cock go that did Foggy in.

—

Foggy woke up in his hospital bed.

Slowly, he looked down, only to confirm to himself that yes, he was in fact hard enough to pound nails. Oh this was everything that he didn’t want to deal with right now.

“You, Franklin P. Nelson,” he muttered to himself, “would be going to hell even if you already hadn’t already sold your immortal soul.”

Foggy hefted himself up, groaning at the pain that still lingered in his side. After taking a few seconds to breathe through the pain that this caused him, he grabbed his IV stand and hobbled to the small bathroom off to the side.

“I’m not going to get caught spanking off like a teenager by a nurse on my last night here. They’ve been too lovely to me to deserve that.”

After the deed was done and Foggy was making his way back to the bed, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t blame *this on the medication. He’d wanted it for too long. Wanted Matt for too long.

That was troubling. He was going to ignore that for now.

Never let it be said that Foggy couldn’t deal with his emotions like a reasonable, mature adult. It was more that he chose not to.

(A!Anon) They'll get their shit together, eventually.

Also, yessss, YASSSSS.

(A!Anon) No good, as per usual.

(A!Anon) Foggy and Matt banter is so great, I love writing it so much. uwu Also, no DD AU is complete without Claire, and Claire is not complete without being a badass. You'll find out her purpose for her visit eventually!

I figured. =D Aus EST here.

Aww that's annoying for your fills. But good for the art! I need a lot of references to draw anything and it has to be a cartoon style. So mostly I can't draw. Haha, that's true! It'll all be white/black/brown (depending on the puzzle). =)

(slash the DIRTY WEIRD THREESOME FRICK FRACK I DONE CHICKENED OUT OF IN THE MIDDLE. how does matt react when he realizes OH NO both of 'em want Dat Ass?)

"I have no reason to kill you," Fisk said. Matt always forgot how low his voice was.

"Great," Matt said: he was still backing up, because - because the crucial thing was to keep out of Fisk's reach. "Desire isn't always reasonable, so -"

Vanessa Fisk came out of the bathroom in a cloud of - steam, sweet hot steam, and her hair, wet and hot and still smelling most strongly of some clean, simple flower - and sighed like they'd disappointed her.

"I told you, darling, really blind," she said, which was - oh. He tried not to make a face, and he also tried very hard not to look irritated or bored; this particular "test" had gotten old ten years ago.

"NLP," Matt said, sing-song, familiar, because he might as well, and sometimes patter distracted Wilso - Fisk. He might be able to work his way around to the door, take off for the night: breathing hurt, and had been hurting since Friday. He didn't particularly want to engage in a fight about Wilson Fisk's wife. "If that's a - a thing that you - you can - there are people you can hire," he said.

"Not quite," Vanessa said, and there was something...deliberate, in her tone. "You can't see me - your loss, if I do say so - so there's nothing improper, here," and Fisk growled, low and unhappy.

Matt went with "relax," even though that was probably the least helpful thing he might've said, but honestly: "no light perception, visual stimuli -" he waved a hand "- doesn't do anything."

"For you," Vanessa hummed. "But we can certainly see you." Her voice had gone low and speculative; her body was - she'd wrapped a towel round her hair, Matt could smell the cotton of it, but there wasn't anything covering her body, which meant that the clean salt-musk of...arousal, that was. That he could smell.

"No," Matt said, and wished for the power to take it back almost before it had left his mouth: he hadn't said no, before, not here, not like this, and - and he wasn't sure what would happen. But - but to - if he understood what she was suggesting, he wouldn't -

"No?" Vanessa asked; she was walking closer, with the slow and confident gait of a naked woman (they got hippier, when they lost clothes; Matt didn't know why). She caught his tie in one hand, standing far too close; Fisk remained statue-still, one hand in a loose fist. If Matt hadn't been paying very close attention he would've missed the - the signs of his arousal. Matt swallowed, hard. Her nipples brushed the loose folds of his dress shirt: "I do admire your taste in clothes," she said. "But that's not what I admire most: you should take them off."

"Not your best line," Matt said.

Vanessa laughed, tipping her face to his throat; the exhalations of her laughter tickled his throat. "Does it need to be, I wonder?" she murmured. "I've told Wilson how lovely you are; don't make me a liar, Matthew."

*purrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

I'm glad you feel like that because I am awful at sticking to plot outlines and characters I write always object to sticking to my plot.

Author here!

Foggy has a bad self image in my headcanon so Matt's going to address that later.

=D Yes! I didn't mean for that to happen this chapter but then I realised Matt hadn't seen Foggy's face so it just... happened. I'm glad it worked. Matt's guilt is like Foggy's self-image - it's going to be a thing.

He really is.

Karen's timing is awful sometimes.

Foggy wouldn't have made it ten minutes after a call like that, let alone 6 hours.

Lol, sorry. Badly worded. What happens when your fic is unbetaed.

I realised early on that telling Karen about this was always going to need a Daredevil reveal so I've been working up to it. I hope it worked.

More coming soonish! I'm back to Uni next week so I hope to get as much done before I go back.

OP - Oh wow, someone is actually filling this!!! This is really good so far :-D

That is also an option!

:DDDD SO. EXCITED. FOR EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THIS FIC. <3

Yup, I'd say everything is working wonderfully! ♥

No worries! :D I'll still be here! I work at a university, so I'm very familiar with the timesuck of higher education. ;)

All I do is cartoon style, so I hear you. XD

More and more, Foggy’s touches were starting to feel like rewards.

This line (and everything that leads up to it) are so awesome!

Oh goddd this is so totally my jam I am loving it and I am setting up camp here for the foreseeable future yup

I bet Mtt was fo r real in hsi dream, afetr all a demon can lure on your dreams.

Author op here: I have been gone on a mini traveling things so I haven't had wifi, but- BUT. I have been writing here and there. I am just finishing the fifth chapter (because yes, chapter estimates be damned). So, I hope to have the next chapter up sometime today (mon).

So glad you liked!

i love this, especially matt's little mental slip with fisk's name and vanessa casually taking charge of the room.

oh foggy, you are only just now realizing you're in trouble...? :D

"Hey so," Matt said, a month or so later, looking happy and well-fed and pleasantly buzzed. Marci was starting to get how Foggy - normally so intelligent and even-keeled - had fallen for Matt. He was like those - what-was-it-called, the game theory: there was almost no chance of seeing him happy and relaxed on a reliable schedule, but sometimes you got lucky, and the infrequent, unpredictable days when he went loose and pleased were just enough positive reinforcement to get you hooked.

Also the ass. The ass was fucking perfect.

"I can't make it next Friday," Matt said. "So next Friday would be the perfect day for you two to check out that pho place."

"Junk food date!" Foggy cheered, and winked at Marci, and damnit, she couldn't go around grinning all the time just because her boyfriend was a cutie. That was for teenagers. "Wait, why? Are -" obligatory drop in volume - "criminals penciling you in, now?"

Matt threw back his head, giggling. Marci bit her lip and made a mental note to grab a cab: it had only taken one time when Matt had declared himself totally fine to walk home. The video had gone viral on youtube: thank god the aspiring film student hadn't gotten a shot of Matt's face, but there'd been a solid thirty seconds of a man in a shirt walking on his hands, tie dangling. Matt tipsy and in a good mood meant ridiculous shenanigans. "I wish they would," he said. "No, I have a date next Friday."

Marci blinked.

She was less than impressed by the idea that Matt could tell if someone was being honest or not: she'd met people who could pass polygraphs without flinching, people who knew all the tricks and shortcuts to use to get the jury on your side. She'd learned some of them, and she was still practicing some of them.

"Good for you," she said, and made sure that she meant it.

"Aw, yeah, bud," Foggy said, shaking his head, wry and pleased. "How do you do it? When do you find time to meet these women? Do you sleep? Wait, do I know her?"

Matt blushed, looking quietly pleased with himself; Marci buried herself in her white wine, thinking shit.

**

That night, at her place, Foggy flopped across her clean grey quilt and sighed in real despair. "I'm a fucking idiot," he told - her? the ceiling? - she wasn't sure.

OP - Oh this is the fic that keeps on giving!!! Eehehehehe <3 (Had Matt and Vanessa already been fooling around together at this point?)

I love Fisk's reaction. Like: Don't touch my wife, but yes please do touch my wife and let me touch you too~

this continues to be great! :D

(A!anon) Hard to say. Matt could have easily been the cause of the dream and subtlety isn't exactly his forte, but he's also an awkward duckling who doesn't really get stuff like relationships.

(A!anon) he tries, but good lord he has no idea what he's doing

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Page 190 of 209

Prompt Post #4

Re: 5 times someone preyed on Matt sexually b/c of his blindness

Re: Matt gets groped on the subway

Applied Contract Law, 6/?

Re: Applied Contract Law, 5/?

Re: Applied Contract Law, 5/?

Re: Applied Contract Law, 5/?

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 4/?

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2.5

Re: FILL: Kneel 6/?

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 6/12(?)

Re: FILL: Kneel 6/?

Re: Matt gets groped on the subway

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 6/12(?)

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 4/?

Re: FILL: Kneel 6/?

Re: FILL: Kneel 6/?

Re: Applied Contract Law, 6/?

Re: {Fill} The Dog Days will never be over (so suck it up and deal) - 1/3

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2.5

Re: Applied Contract Law, 6/?

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2.5

Re: Marcy/Foggy/Matt

Re: Applied Contract Law, 6/?

Re: Applied Contract Law, 6/?